Shifting Winds: Novella 3 of the Kinstone series

It’s a cold and rainy afternoon as my father fumes in the main hall of the Laevatain estate. He’s been like this for the past six months ever since he heard about what happened in Rome and how Drakthul is now talking to Aria. I’ve even heard they’re slowly becoming friends with her. Something that would’ve been anathema just two years ago.

I lean against the wall just outside the door, resting my head on the cool stone. I sigh softly, clenching my shirt as my father’s anger is palatable.

“How...how could they do this?” I hear my father rage. “After centuries of being allies and friends, Drakthul goes and betrays me just because that blasted Shyairi princess wormed her way into the heart of Almarec’s son.”

He growls, “Now even his own daughter has bonded with a wolf.” He turns for the windows, his magic flaring to the surface. “That Darien,” he adds, “he always disagreed with his father, and when he had the chance to strike a deathknell to that damned fox girl, he goes and swears his undying allegiance to her.”

I nod softly as I listen. Ever since Rome, Darien has been leading the charge in reforming Drakthul. According to Lana, it’s been a slow and arduous process, but one that’s apparently bearing fruit. All my old friend’s been talking about is how the atmosphere of her house has been changing ever since Darien returned home from Rome. How the wolves gradually have been returning to them the more Drakthul turns away from its pridefulness.

She’s even been talking to Aria, something neither of us thought we’d ever do before since meeting her three years ago at Court. She’s spoken of learning so much about the wolves from the fox princess, with Aria even showing off her wolf siblings, old and new. I smile softly, remembering the pictures Lana sent me of Aria holding the wolf pups in her arms and lap.

In my calls with Lana, I felt a growing sense of jealousy, something I’ve kept secret and buried. Yet the jealousy was never malicious, rather I began to develop a deep longing, a true one. I gaze out a window, knowing how the wolves have been watching our house and family ever since our banishment. However, they never approach us, leaving us heartbroken each time they come into view.

I close my eyes, thinking of my dreams, dreams of a voice speaking to me. The voice was always soothing and reassuring as my distress and despair grew, yet remaining distant. I could never figure who or what the voice belonged to as it would vanish the moment I awoke. Each time it came, I felt my heart reaching out to it, yet never connecting.

I have so many questions. Questions I can’t share even with Lana.

What I can’t believe is how much Lana has changed since bonding with her wolf Barres. The pair’s always talking with each other, learning and growing. She spoke of how complete her life now feels with him there.

I hear my father pacing through the hall again, something that’s become a more recent habit of his. Another issue which fuels my father’s rage and anger is that for the past year, more and more of our few remaining allies have been drifting away from us, slowly leaving us isolated. This was further accelerated as the few Nethune loyalists were rounded up after the battle in Dewloura last year.

My family’s been suffering ever since, with my father steadily slipping in madness. “Damn that fox girl to Hell along with all of Shyair,” curses my father. “If…if only that battle had been lost, with Lady Selene slaying that wretched lowborn trash of a girl, then we would be in Dewloura with our rightful rulers taking back the reigns of the world. But no, she was tragically slain in battle by Aria and her daughter Diana was taken in by Rachel and her family only to also leave this world. Now Nethune truly is lost forever. No doubt Aria has been working tirelessly to remove all mention of Nethune from history.”

I hold my chest tightly. At the time, I felt that same as my father, how with Nethune gone our place in the world was also taken. I can still remember how in the throne room, Aria had the wolves come forth and judge us. She never commanded them, merely asked that they stepped forward. I felt my heart sinking into my stomach when I was rejected by the wolf that stood in front of me.

Then there’s the sting of Aria banishing us from Dewloura. For the past over year and a half my father has never felt such embarrassment or humiliation as we were escorted and thrown out of the city. Since that day, we’ve been shunned by many and ignored by others. The pain of the day still pangs our hearts, weighing us down like heavy chains.

“Curse that wily fox,” sounds my father. “Even now, I still cannot believe how much power and influence that Shyairi princess has accumulated. What’s more, it hasn’t been through coercion or bribery. She’s done so through wit, charm, and genuine friendship. The colonies all sing her praises as Dewloura is rebuilding, openly flocking to her banner without the child raising a hand.”

I hear him spit, “Even that so-called “Stewards’ Council” obeys her every word and suggestion. Such utter nonsense.”

I sigh, nodding. Lana’s been keeping me abreast of the happenings in Dewloura through her talks to Aria and even her brother who was there just a month ago. Yet even after bonding with her wolf she herself hasn’t visited the fox girl.

She spoke of her envying her brother, getting to watch as the city is rebuilt. It hurts to hear her say those words, words of hope and support for Aria, who apparently is living life as a normal girl while still handling the reins of leadership of a nation in recovery.

Throughout all of this, I’ve felt alone, and not simply from our house’s banishment and isolation. How I’ve been alone the more I talk to Lana. It’s a heart-wrenching feeling, one that constantly gnaws at my heart.

I feel my heart beating heavily in my chest as I feel the pain growing as my father’s rants become more unhinged. I turn and enter the main hall, hoping to quell his rage.

“Father,” I say softly. “Perhaps it’s time to speak to Aria. You have stewed here for months.”

He turns to me, eyes aghast with shock and anger.

“Father, we have languished here ever since the judgement and our banishment,” I continue, “our ancestors clung to our pride and glory of being a founding house of Dewloura. And yet maybe Aria is right. Right in how that same pride led to arrogance, which then led to the downfall of our people and wolves leaving us.”

Ever since our brief time in Dewloura and afterwards, I’ve felt a hole in my heart. One that’s only grown. I grip my chest, feeling the missing piece grow yet again.

“Father, again, maybe Aria is right in how our centuries-long pride has restrained us, cut us off from who we once were, who we’re truly meant to be. Even Lana has spoken of how Drakthul has been changing for the better.”

My father’s eyes flare even more with rage as his magic comes to the surface, slowly choking out the air in the room. I can see the jealousy in his eyes. Jealousy of how his once lifelong friend Lord Almarec is close to bonding with a wolf. Yet Lana has admitted how the pair are wary and cautious, taking things slow.

Additionally, ever since Rome, my father forbade me from traveling to see Lana. Lest I become swayed or poisoned by my “traitorous” former friends and allies. This only served to further isolate me from everyone.

I again see his flaring magic crushing me as the room begins to shake. I shudder as he comes closer, having felt his anger only again grow stronger as paranoia and resentment have also driven him to drink. The smell of wine wafts softly through the air.

There have been times when I’ve been on the receiving end of his verbal tirade and vitriol. His words would sting deeply into my heart.

I gaze up into his eyes as he bears down at me. All the while I cling to a letter I just received from Lana stating how she’s finally planning to visit along with her brother and his wife. How she’s nervous about the trip but quietly hopeful.