The Roar of Andora: Book One

Chapter Thirty-One: In Celebration of the King

"Let's do this one in memory of King Adonis!" Jerome Rohan said, lifting a shot glass full of Gervain liquor. "To King Adonis the First!"

All of the Evershields seated at Jarod's banquet table and their closest companions raised their glasses and repeated: "To King Adonis the First!" then downed their drinks. The taste of Gervain liquor wasn't favourable to anyone's palette, but the men grinned their way through the harshness as the women made sour faces and winced.

Off in the corner, Aaron stood next to the two retainers assigned to him and watched his family make the disingenuous toast in honour of the previous King Evershield. Disgusted with his family, how they took the late great King's legacy and convoluted it with their own awful interpretation, Aaron took a step forward to leave the party.

"Prince Evershield," George said, "We need to accompany you."

"By my command, I order you to stay put."

George, having to oppose Aaron countless times because of Jarod's will was sympathetic and let him go.

The orchestra played a festive melody that plenty of those who were feeling overtly carefree danced to. The maids and the servants rushed back and forth with large trays full of a variety of meats: elk, caribou, deer, lamb, reindeer; a rare sea-turtle soup imported from Iôtalia was served to the Evershields and their kin. The guests, taking advantage of the luxurious abundance of delicacies they rarely got to enjoy, gorged until they were full, and then drinking more, forgetting they were full, piled their plates again.

Aaron walked through the populated room; he'd never seen the banquet hall at its fullest capacity before. Weaving between the tables and the bodies, Aaron was convinced he was dreaming having never felt so detached from the spirit of a crowded room before. Reminding him of how he'd only felt that way once—seven years ago on the night of Eden's coming-of-age. Aaron avoided thinking of that night. His mind wouldn't allow him to bridge the past and the present. Reconciling the vicissitude of his life was never going to be possible. In another life, the extravagance of the evening's ceremony would have been for his father. As much as he hated Sidon—and his mother—Aaron could only see their apparitions in place of where his cousins and his aunts and uncles sat. Could only see the glint of the golden Andoran crown around his father's head.

The guests gave Aaron askew looks as he passed by their seats. Some were terrified; others snickered. Aaron had never known how profoundly the gossip about him had spread. The word whispered among the people was that not only Aaron, but the entire line of Adonis II was stripped of their royal rank. A dark temptation that Aaron had been aware dwelled deep within him arose. A temptation to raise his fists; a temptation to draw a sword from out of one of the guard's sheaths and slay his uncle. It would be all too easy. Aaron had never torn a man's flesh before, but he imagined that the vibration of the slash through the hilt would feel good.

"Blessed the Winds are that Jarod Evershield inherited the throne." Aaron overheard a man say. "Ay, look at what we've eatin' and drunk on! Adonis that coward wouldn't 'ave been so generous! Fuckin' Gervain stupid up! Shittin' out Shika tonight!" The man and his friends hollered laughing.

Unbeknownst to the men, Aaron stood behind them. He stared down at the back of the man's head. A dark slithering sensation ran up Aaron's calves through his spine toward his head. Aaron then recognized that that sensation was his Aurai. The Aurai spiralled through his veins to the palms of his hands. Nothing, no thought nor rationalization convinced Aaron in that moment he couldn't send his Aurai straight out through his hands towards the man's heart and stop it from beating. Keeping his arms still by his sides, Aaron unknowingly began turning his wrist over. The slithering sensation emanated in his palm. Then feeling the tension in his shoulders melt away, rotating his hand so his fingers faced the floor, Aaron slightly lifted his wrist and let the billowing weight in his hand escape from him. At once he could feel the man. An undeniable notion roused within that if he wanted to—really wanted to—he could end his life.