Julian

He curled further in on himself as though that would ease his pain, which he knew by now, a fortnight into his recovery, that it wouldn't. He had not yet seen Henry again, and for that was partially grateful, yet partially dismayed. It had been somewhat comforting, even for just one night, to know there was someone there who was not going to try and kill him as soon as he awoke. He was thankful that he couldn't yet walk down the stairs, lest he seek the prince out. It was foolish, and he knew it, and was bitterly content to be forced to wait until the prince saw fit to see him.

The pain shook him hard, making the iron posts of the bed rattle irritatingly. He gritted his teeth hard, blinking the sweat out of his eyes, waiting until he could go back to sleep. With no one around, he allowed the sounds of pain to escape him—the hiss as waves of sharp pain crashed over him, the moans of agony. He dreaded the day he had to set out to find the lost princess, doubted if he would be able to, even.

The door opened, and for a moment he thought it might be Henry. However, it was the king's rough voice that called him from his feigned sleep.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"We must talk. Do you find yourself… able?" The king sat in the chair that Henry had used. Julian found his glasses on the cluttered night table and dragged himself up with shaking arms so that he could sit against the wall.

"My son has raised some concerns about your condition, as to whether or not you will be in a position to leave soon enough to save my daughter. I promised I would speak with you on the subject."

When no more information was forthcoming, Julian said, "What exactly are you asking me, Your Majesty?"

"Knock it off with that," the king snapped, and he nodded. The king always had had to tell him not to address him as such, and always would. "I am asking if you think you will be ready to leave soon." Soon. The word echoed in Julian's mind forebodingly.

"I think… " Did it matter what he thought? He knew he had to go, and if he wasn't totally recovered yet… well, that did not matter.

"Yes."

"What… what is it they did to you exactly?" the king asked, and Julian could see a flicker of compassion and concern in the man's eyes. In all sixteen years spent in the castle, he had only seen such emotion in the king a handful of times, less when directed at him.

"Just an obscure technique that's rather akin to having one's Source electrocuted. It's hardly important; the Loqarians are not too well versed in our sorcery and were incapable of doing permanent damage."

"I wasn't asking for a report, Julian," the king said softly. "I mean, how are you?"

"How would you feel in my position?" he asked, smiling bitterly while leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. He meant to open up a little to the king, but he couldn't. He guessed that he'd lost the ability to do that a while ago. He heard the king sigh and get up, groaning wearily as his joints popped.

"Be ready in tomorrow, then." And then he left.

Tomorrow. Julian knew he could not protest, but did not relish the idea of leaving so soon. But he bid himself not to think about it and got out bed with little enough struggle as he set to packing.

As if he hadn't had enough waking to strange and terrible things. This time smoke poured through his open window, carrying cinders on the breeze that would catch his curtains and then everything else in the room in a matter of moments. At first he could not puzzle out what the smoke meant. It seized his mind just as it was seizing his body, like the smoke was a living things whose hard, choking fingers now wrapped around him tightly, forbidding him any movement.

And it was when, as he knew would happen, the flames leapt into his room that he managed to come out his strange trance. He grabbed the bag he had left on the floor the night before and the cloak hanging on the door and ran out the room, wincing as his body protested even now.

He raced down to the third floor and into a wall of black. He clamped the cloak over his mouth and nose in an attempt to block out the smoke that hung thicker than night in the halls. Feeling along the walls, he reached the second door from the staircase and threw it open, closing it shut behind him quickly, trying to keep the smoke out in the halls.

He ignored the other body in the bed and shook Prince Henry awake roughly. He ducked the hand that tried to smack him away and shook him more insistently, panic rising higher and higher in his throat, threatening to choke him faster than the smoke.

"Get up, you idiot!" Julian shouted, throwing the cloak over his shoulders now that the smoke was no longer such a problem.

"What?" Henry sat up, running his hands through his hair, eyes wide at the sight of the smoke.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, but we have to leave, so get up and get dressed."

"My parents!" That set him up out of bed, and Julian rolled his eyes up, turning his face away. He walked to the window, the room too hot, whether from the fire or something else, he didn't care to know. Looking out, he saw that if they climbed off of the balcony, they could drop down to the one on the second floor and then to the ground and could escape. There was no way they could get out by the stairs. Julian frowned, wondering if he was capable of it.

When he turned around to shout at Henry to hurry the hell up, he wasn't there. Swearing, he asked the boy in bed where the prince had gone. The boy said, "parents" and Julian, grabbing his bag, set off running, hoping to high heaven that the Lords would curse Henry for giving him trouble.

He pushed open the heavy door of the king's bedroom—something he wouldn't have dreamed of doing under normal circumstances—and walked right into Henry.

"We'll be fine," the queen had been assuring her son, who was now on the floor under Julian. He didn't bother apologising when he rolled off of the prince.

"Watch it, would you?" he snapped, and Julian ignored him.

"Trust me, Henry. Your father and I have a place to go. Go find Pippa. This place is lost."

"But I have to stay and help fight back!" he insisted, but the queen was shaking her head. The king was pacing furiously, and so quickly that Julian feared the friction would set the carpet afire.

"Orders are for everyone to retreat and regroup in the mountain further east. You must go while you can get out," she said, smoothing her hands over the sides of the prince's face. Julian, impatient with the dramatics, grabbed Henry by the arm and led him out onto the balcony, leaning over to see if his plan would work as well here. It seemed it would, and he began climbing over.

"Sven!" Henry cried suddenly, and tried to run back into the room. Julian grabbed him by the arm again, spinning him so that they were facing each other.

"Listen to me. We have to leave if you want to see your sister live." He was vaguely aware of the king and queen hovering outside the balcony, watching. "Trust your parents, forget about everyone else, and let's get the fuck out," he hissed, barely heard over the snapping, roiling fire.

"Julian!" the queen called out. He looked in her direction, not trusting himself to speak and not say something she would find highly offensive.

"We need you to transport us out of here. I know it requires much effort-" Julian didn't wait for her to finish, just closed his eyes in concentration and withdrew into his Source, drawing up the necessary power. With a symbol made by his hands, the king and queen disappeared. He almost fell to his knees from the energy required to transport two full-grown adults, but Henry caught him around the waist.

"What did you do?" Henry demanded from beside him.

"Transported them. What the hell do you think? That I vaporised them?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," Henry snapped.

"Come on," he insisted breaking free of Henry's lingering grip.

"Can't you transport us the same way?"

"Have you any idea how much energy that would require?"

"Too much, I guess. But I can't just leave Sven."

"I swear by the Lords I will knock you out and drag you off this balcony."

"Like to see you try that."

Julian climbed over the balcony ledge after throwing his bag over, the fire now positively roaring beneath them, spreading into the room they had been in minutes before, and now Henry followed him down the flights of balconies. They landed on the ground without too much difficulty, though Julian was beginning to worry at the spots he saw swimming before his eyes. His head felt as light as a feather, and he kept clutching everything solid they passed on the way to the—mercifully—intact stables in the irrational fear that his feet would lift off the ground and he would float gently away.

They saddled a pair of horses quickly and galloped off the grounds of the palace as fast as they could. Julian could see the familiar white flags of the Loqarians bearing the cross of the One True God in gold.

"Lords be damned!" Henry shouted from in front of him as he also turned to look. The two did not linger, and continued to in the direction of the southwest, where they would find the Dark Lady's castle.

Julian watched Henry plod along in front of him. They had been going at this slow pace for the last few hours, and finally Julian could take it no more.

"Your sister isn't going to save herself," he remarked, coming up along beside Henry. The prince turned to him with an aggravated look, and Julian subconsciously leaned away. The prince looked rather like he was going to bite Julian's head off.

"I know that. What I don't know is where the hell we're going, so if you do, maybe you'd be so kind as to let me know?"

"We are heading," he began slowly, "to the Tymerus forest."

"We're going through that? Are you insane?"

Julian scoffed. Yes, they, as children, were always warned against it—it was the setting of all the dark fairytales, the home of all dark lords and ladies. And yes, they were going through it.

"It's the quickest way to get to your sister. And it's not that bad, anyway."

"How would you know?" Julian ignored him and urged his horse on at a faster pace. It was only noon, yet he already was tired enough to stop.

"Hey," Henry said, catching up to him after several moments. "How do you know it ain't that bad? You've not been out of the castle until the war started."

"Does it matter?"

"Well it may be that I can't trust you until you reveal your sources."

"You'd better learn to, because we'll be travelling together for a long time." He was quiet after that; both of them were. They were a good distance from the fire now, and the air was clear, the leaves on the trees wet and green, and the skies an anaemic blue. It was better than the weeks previous when it had rained and rained, Julian thought. At least it meant spring was coming. He judged it was about a week off—the seasons changed with some rapidity on their continent, going from the dead of winter to the raining season, and then into spring. Then they slowed down, spring lasting sweetly, lingering like the taste of peaches on the tongue long after all the fruit has been eaten. The summer cam and dragged on and on, the intense heat unrelenting throughout its long months. And suddenly, it was winter again.

After they had ridden in painful silence for some time, Julian finally said, "Look, I used to live there, okay? Before I came to the castle when I was fifteen." Henry looked startled to hear Julian's voice again.

"Really?"

"No, I'm lying to you because it gives me unending pleasure," he snapped, almost regretting it when he saw the expression on Henry's face.

"Why'd you live there? There are no villages or anything…"

"I lived… with the faery-folk. My parents died when I was very young, and because of who my mother was the townspeople wouldn't take me in, so the faeries graciously adopted me."

"Who was your-oh. You're half-faery, aren't you?" Henry asked, open curiosity on his face. Julian nodded.

"Oh, is that why you don't have to shave?"

"Yes. Just like the rest of the faeries, only my scalp, eyelashes, and eyebrows sprout hair. But that's why it's black, like my father's." Henry nodded, studying Julian carefully.

"So… we'll be protected when we get there? In the forest?"

"Until we reach the Middle Rind, where the faeries don't dare venture." Seeing Henry's confusion, he explained, "the Middle Rind is where no creature lives, and where the trees are all of the Merwyn variety—black and more like stone than trees. The faeries have always been too afraid to go in there."

"And let me guess—we're gonna go in there?"

"Exactly," he said with a smile. "Trust me when I say it's the fastest way to your sister." Henry still looked uneasy, but didn't protest further.