In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (most motivational books txt) 📕

door within the wood swung open. A guard’s face appeared in the frame.

“The castle is closed for the night, young sir, and you’d do well to find a place to sleep until these doors open in the morning.”

Tal frowned. “I have urgent news about the murdered prince.”

“As do a lot of folks, but they’re not trying to wake the family, who are in mourning. Come back in the daylight if you truly have news regarding Prince Taliesin.”

Frustrated, Tal yanked back the hood and pointed to his face. “I am Prince Taliesin.”

“Well, that’s a new one. I think the royal family would know—”

Another guard shouldered into view. “Go away, boy. Before you anger our captain of the guard.”

“The captain of the guard is named Bertram, and he’ll be furious to learn that you turned me away.”

The guard’s expression filled with unease.

Tal turned the screw. “Furthermore, your punishment will come directly from Commander Garrett. And you’ll face his wrath when he finds out you denied his brother entrance to his family home.”

The guards exchanged a look. The small door shut, and after a moment the larger creaked inward. Tal dismounted, leaving Athlen, pale and exhausted, clutching the pommel of the saddle.

The guards raised a lantern and peered through a space in the portcullis. Realization dawned across both of their faces. “By the stars, it is you.”

“Raise the portcullis and ring the warning bell. Wake the household.”

“Yes, my prince.”

They swung the door open, and the heavy iron grid raised inch by inch.

Athlen smiled, fatigued and tight. “You’re home.”

“I am,” Tal agreed. “There is much to be done.”

Once the iron grate was high enough, Tal took the mare’s reins and led her inside through the archway and into the keep proper, her hoofs ringing against the stone. In the dark the keep was shadows and sharp angles, formidable and frightening from the perspective of an outsider, but to Tal it was a comfort. He was home.

Sprawled before him was the central courtyard, made of stone and bordered by walls, with paths like spokes of a wheel that led to the stables, gardens, knights’ quarters, and other areas of the castle. With purposeful strides Tal crossed the open area in the direction of the throne room. A wide set of stone steps, guarded at the base by a pair of imposing statues of knights, rose into a series of parallel arches that led into the castle. Tal stopped his hurried pace at the bottom of the steps and turned to Athlen. He offered his hand and Athlen took it, sliding off the mare on unstable legs.

Tal handed off the reins to the gate guard who’d followed them. “See she’s taken care of. She’s had a rough few days.”

“Yes, sire.”

Tal caught Athlen’s elbow and guided him toward the steps. “Stay behind me.”

Athlen looked as a ghost, and his wide honey eyes reflected the moonlight. Otherworldly and beautiful, Athlen shrugged off Tal’s grasp and gripped his hand instead, his skin cool against Tal’s sweaty palm.

“As you command,” he said with a slight lift to the corner of his mouth.

Tal laced their fingers and squeezed, hoping Athlen took the gesture for what it was, a sign of affection and hope.

The peal of the warning bell broke the moment, the sound echoing across the keep, ringing sharp in Tal’s ears. It was used in times of urgency, and it hadn’t rung in years, not since the last great storm had battered the coast when Tal was a child. Now the bell sounded ominous as Tal tugged Athlen up the steps and into his home.

Passing through one of the arches, they entered the common area of the castle. Protocol required the royal family, which would include Emerick, to regroup in the safest part of the castle, which was the formidable and near-impenetrable throne room. One long corridor and a set of large ornate doors sat between Tal and the moment he’d been running toward since his rescue. Magic surged to life in his belly, lighting behind his eyes, but he tamped it down, wrenched it under his control. Athlen stumbled behind him, dropping Tal’s hand in their hurry, but he remained close on Tal’s heels as Tal broke into a desperate run. He hoped with all his being they’d made it in time.

Tal didn’t allow the doors to stop him for a moment; flicking his hand, he willed them to open, and they did in a blast of wind. They banged hard against the stone.

With fire simmering beneath his skin, his body trembled, exhaustion hovering on the edge of his senses, but determination overrode all else. He entered, striding down the purple carpet that led to the twin thrones of Harth.

The room was dark, save for a single brazier near the queen’s seat. Tal thrust out his hands and the rest flared to life, and fire roared in the large fireplace, flooding the room with light and heat.

The other occupants of the room startled, spinning to face him.

A pair of guards stood with Isa by the throne. She wore her nightgown, a robe hastily thrown over it, her long red hair in a braid over her shoulder, her feet bare. An unfamiliar man stood next to her, her husband—Emerick—looking just as disheveled, his eyes wide as he stared in wonder at the blazing fireplace.

“How did that—”

“Halt!” a guard yelled, raising his weapon. “Stop right there!”

Tal stalled his approach, pausing in the middle of the room, several feet from the throne.

Isa clasped her robe closed with one hand and peered around the guard. She gasped and brought the other hand to tremble over her open mouth. “Tally?” she said, pushing the guard out of her way. “Tally? Is that you?”

Emerick stared at him, stunned. “Was that… was that magic?”

A flurry of footsteps sounded on the stone as others filed in behind Tal, and he quickly checked over his shoulder. Athlen had shuffled off to the side, leaning heavily on the wall, watching the scene unfold. Garrett was there as well, hair