The Prince of Summer: The Chronicles of Alcinia, #5

By Miriam Newman

Jossa of Havacia is an outcast--disinherited. But can a man born to be a warrior ever be anything less? From the snow-bound country of his birth to its island fortress and the mystical kingdom of Alcinia, Jossa's destiny pursues him like the hand of fate in The Prince of Summer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miriam Newman
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201940133

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The arm around him was like an iron band. His uncle’s hair, blowing in the wind, was curly and black, not the gray of the older men who sometimes took him to the beach. They would not take him up the cliffs, saying it was too dangerous for the little Prince of Summer. But Uncle Simi did not seem to be afraid of anything, not even falling off hundred-foot cliffs.

They had reached the top, where the wind cut most fiercely. Lie down on your belly, his uncle instructed, pushing him up onto the top. Don’t stand up, it will blow you over. The two of them stretched out, man and boy, shoulder to shoulder, one wearing the purple of royalty, the other the fur of wolves. Below them, a huge congregation of puffins rested on the beach, except for a brave and hungry few who made awkward jumps into the air. Their spindly wings barely seemed to catch the wind until somehow, magically, they righted themselves as if remembering why they had been born. Then, they skimmed the surface of the water, plummeting with heart-stopping speed and accuracy straight into the waves until they emerged, fish in beaks. Some were already swallowing. Others, more dutiful, would take them back to their chicks.

Look at them, Simi exulted, seeming to enjoy the show as much as Jossa did. They have but one chick a year, you see. That is how they feed them.

Like Yuri? Jossa questioned, immediately reminded of his baby brother. He thought it had taken a year for Yuri to be born, or thereabouts. He wasn’t quite sure. Anyway, it had taken months and caused his mother a great deal of pain. He had heard her screaming when Yuri was born.

His father was pleased, though, saying they had waited a long time for him. Jossa knew he should not feel left out. He was the big brother. It would be his responsibility to protect and defend Yuri and go to war with him when they were both older, like his father took Uncle Andrus and, sometimes, Uncle Simi. But, for today, he had Simi and that was a great comfort.

They look like soldiers that have been drinking, Jossa said. The top-heavy birds with their brightly colored beaks reminded him of men in uniform, lurching down the streets of Karlisfyrrd after the taverns closed.

Seen many of those, have you?

Jossa considered it. More sailors.

Ah, I see. Uncle Andrus’s men.

Jossa nodded. He would never repeat this to his father, the King, who might be angry. Simi just laughed.

Uncle Simi?

What?

There was a question that had been plaguing him for some time, but Jossa had been afraid to ask. This might be a good time.

Why do you have one name and Father and Uncle Andrus have a different one? And Uncle Andrus is a Prince, but you’re a Lord?

Because we had different fathers.

Why?

My father died. Then my mother married your grandfather, King Hilgi. Your father and Uncle Andrus are his children. My sisters and I are not.

So you are not really brothers?

Of course we are. We are what you call half-brothers. Just as good as any others. Simi was silent for a moment, then squeezed him gently. I want you to remember that. Will you remember?

Uh-huh.

Good. If you share blood, if you love one another, you are brothers. Do you understand?

Jossa didn’t, really, but if Uncle Simi said it was so, then no doubt it was.

How long will you stay? he asked. It was his other pressing concern. His uncle’s trips to the mainland from New Havacia, more commonly called the Isle by its residents, were few and far between and Jossa relished them. He was much easier to please than the King. Do you have to go back to your island?

His uncle ruffled his hair. Yes, I do. I am its Governor. It’s a very big job. But I will stay for a while.

For Yuri? He had heard the adults say that Simi had come for the birth. There had been a big party when he arrived and an even bigger one when the baby did. That was why his uncle’s next words surprised him.

No. For you.

Towards dusk, a new bird appeared. For a long time, it was only a speck on the horizon, but Jossa thought it must be a very determined bird, winging its way through crowded flocks of starlings.

Look, he said. What’s that one?

Uh? The older man had been preoccupied with puffin acrobatics, but obligingly shifted his gaze to where the little boy was pointing.

The tiny speck was growing larger, outlined by pink sky and a sinking sun. It was gray and white, a pigeon, no doubt making its way to the dovecote at the Keep.

Interested, Jossa observed that it trailed a bright scarlet ribbon from one tiny leg. He had never seen one so decorated.

What is that one? he asked. What does that ribbon mean?

Beside him, his uncle—now at full attention—replied with a single word.

War.

CHAPTER TWO

The bird came first, signal fires next and riders third.

Where is Jossa? the Queen demanded. Barely out of childbed, still the color of chalk and clutching her new baby, she had made her way painfully from her bedchamber, down the staircase and into the courtyard when she saw the flaming signal fire across the bay. It was visible from her casement window, just as it was from her husband’s adjoining chamber, but he was not there.

The courtyard was a maelstrom of men running in a state of seeming disorder, but that was only an illusion. In reality, King Vanus had been preparing for this day for a long time.

With Lord Simius, Lady, someone shouted.

It was a tiny consolation. Ships had not yet landed, though they had been sighted. There was still time, she told herself. He would keep her son safe. Only pray to the Gods that he could.

Roused by the commotion, the baby who had only known peace until that moment began to wail fretfully.

Hush, hush. Sereen raised him so that she could kiss into his downy soft hair, black like hers.

Lady, get back! someone shouted. There would be no standing on ceremony now. Barefoot and wearing her nightgown, the Queen was seized from behind by her husband’s chief noble, Lord Alfryar, who escorted her into the doorway, one arm around the baby.

Sereen, not now, he urged. Go within. No one will take Karlisfyrrd. This Keep has never been breached.

Her father’s Keep never had been, either, until it was burned to the ground. It was her husband who burned it.

Where is Vanus? she demanded.

Gone to the harbor.

Her head exploded in fury. His brother, Andrus, should have been at the harbor. Was the imbecile in a brothel again, running down some seamy street still tying his braes since he had heard the drums of war? She thought it likely.

Fortunately, they had Simi. Nearly swallowing her breath in anxiety, she saw him coming straight up the road to the Keep, galloping headlong with her son following on a pony. Jossa was a good rider already. His pony was not a small one. It skidded to a halt almost in her face, reminding her with a sudden, sickening pang of another day.

Her horse had thrown her, right in that same courtyard, nearly in the same spot. She had been fleeing from Vanus’s people—her own subjects, incited by the fact that he was making war on her father—and only the action of her guard had saved her.

Arturus. She would never forget him.

Simi’s horse was whirling in a circle, but quite deliberately. He was spinning the horse, standing in his stirrups to see the distribution of men, shouting orders. It was Vanus’s place, but the men would follow his brother just as willingly. They had fought with him before.

Completing a full circuit, he reined his horse to a halt, facing her. Get inside, he said, just as Lord Alfryar had. She was listening to neither of them, holding out her free arm as Jossa ran to her. His pony immediately headed for the stables, reins trailing.

Mother, Jossa said, reaching her. Go in.

Finally, her son’s voice reached her when none other would.

Go find your brother, she screamed to Simi. He would know which one she meant. He has a fleet to run. Then, grabbing Jossa’s proffered hand, she finally went back inside.

Yuri was crying, but she was almost too distracted to care. Here, Mother, she heard. I will take him.

Jossa lifted his baby brother from her arms, cradling him against his eight-year-old self, rocking him as he had seen the adults do.

Don’t cry, he soothed the sobbing baby. Don’t cry.

It was more effective than Sereen’s hysterical state. Her son looked up at the Queen with his father’s eyes—more hazel than his gray, but with the same old-soul wisdom.

We should go to the Throne Room, he told her. Father said that is safest.

When had Vanus ever told an eight-year-old child that? But no doubt he had. The man thought of nothing but war.

Inside, men were hastily ripping down drapes that concealed arrow slits, while archers were ringing balustrades fronting on the Great Room. Anyone attempting an assault would have to first get through Andrus’s fleet, through a hail of flaming pitch, and then face archers and cavalry on the beach. If they made it to the narrow, winding streets of Karlisryrrd, the inhabitants would fight them hand-to-hand and then, if they were still alive, they would face a three-hundred-foot uphill road where incendiary fireballs would be rolled down on top of them along with a thousand arrows, most of them on fire, too.

Lord Alfryar, responsible for the safety of the Keep, was herding the women and children into the Throne Room, where they were seldom admitted. This night they would be, sheltering for their lives. If forced out of there, they could still go out through the Queen’s Gardens, dispersing in deep woods to the side of the Keep.

I thought Vanus said they would attack the Isle, she shouted to Alfi.

Aye, and if they knew Simi was here, they would have, he agreed, ushering women in. They don’t want to take him on again, so they’re trying here.

Worse luck for them, she snorted, watching as Jossa found a sheltered spot at the foot of the throne, hunkering down with the baby.

War, war, it was always war. If the lunatics of the North weren’t fighting each other, it was the lunatics of the South testing their defenses. They would have to hope that was all this was and not a full-scale invasion. The fact that they were attacking the capitol, though, was a real concern.

Why had we no warning? she demanded of Lord Alfryar.

We did, he replied. The war birds were loosed.

Oh, birds. Sereen didn’t try to hide her disdain. No, I mean from the fleet. Was Andrus off courting again?

Nay, Lady, he’s been here. They’ve gone through our line somewhere, it just remains to be seen where. We cannot be everywhere at once.

I suppose, she grumbled. What about Enicia?

Vanus’s half-sister in their mother’s island nation, Alcinia, was a holy woman reputed to have extraordinary powers. She had foreseen the suicide of the Emperator of Omana, to name just one wonder. Why had she not warned of this?

I don’t know, Lord Alfryar said. But I’d not be surprised to see the Alcinis on their tails.

That would be rich, she conceded. Havacian ships in front of them and Alcinic ships behind.

Let us hope so. We are a confederacy, after all. Now, let’s get you settled. It was early summer, not overly cold, but Sereen was shaking from nerves and the aging lord removed his cloak, putting it around her. This is not good for you, just out of childbed. If you will not go back to bed, come sit with your son.

Take to my bed with the Keep under attack? she asked rhetorically.

Lord Alfryar didn’t bother arguing with her. Ripping a cushion off the throne, he put it down, seating her carefully. Still raw and sore from delivering her baby, Sereen put her arms around her knees, resting her face on them to hide her pain. Over her head, she heard him call, Brace the gates!

Even above the tumult in the Throne Room, she could hear the resounding boom of huge timbers dropped into iron holders bracing spiked, solid oak doors thicker than a man’s body. So could everyone else and there was a momentary, almost shocked silence. Never in any of their memories had those timbers been used.

Across the Great Room, Sereen had seen Lady Caeli—Alfryar’s wife—come in just before the timbers were lowered, her elegant gown tied up between her knees so that she could run. Hers was no empty title. Lord Alfryar was Vanus’s right hand; she was his left. She would be the last one inside, once everyone else was safe, or at least as safe as they could be.

Now all they could do was wait.

CHAPTER THREE

At the harbor, Prince Andrus was vaulting, one-handed, onto his flagship. There was no boarding plank, it had been drawn up, so he hurled his six-foot frame from the dock, boosting himself on shields hung amid-ship and dropping over the side.

Who launched? he shouted, furious because his own ship was sailing without him.

I did.

He gaped at the sight of his brother, his King, striding down the planks.

Simi will be at the Keep by now or, if not, Alfi can hold it, he said. This time I sail with you.

Done, Andrus agreed. One could not gainsay the King, but even aside from that, he was glad to be sailing into combat with his brother. It had been too long since they had fought together and he smiled with the pure joy of battle, blazing as brightly as one of his torches.

The light of fires kindled in specially designed braziers that wouldn’t incinerate his wooden ship illuminated the figures of men swarming over it. Above them, caldrons bubbled with what would be a deadly brew of pitch, if only they could get it to the requisite temperature quickly enough. Everywhere, hurlers were being pushed into place, their fireproofed nets designed to cradle flaming balls of death long enough to deliver them to enemy ships.

The oncoming ships would be similarly equipped, of course, and were in more readiness than theirs.

We won’t be in time, Vanus shouted over the noise of flaming fires and shouting men.

I know. Fireboats! Andrus bellowed.

Smaller ships manned by skeleton crews were already coming alongside not only his ship, but several others as well. Vanus smiled, more a feral grimace than enjoyment. Packed with combustibles and fired with pitch, they would be sailed into the Domidian line, igniting enemy ships as their Havacian crews jumped overboard just in time to avoid immolation.

I hope they can fucking swim! he shouted to Andrus.

His brother, already begrimed with tar straight from the tar pits on Simi’s Isle of Fire, grinned at him like a demon.

Like fish!

When her pain had eased, Sereen turned, gripping the throne, using it to lever herself up.

Stay with Yuri, she panted to her son. I am going to look at the harbor.

He nodded, bending over his brother. Limping slightly on flagstones that hurt her feet, Sereen made her way to one of the arrow slits, where a soldier quickly made way for her—a barefoot Queen wearing only her nightgown and a cloak pinned with a brooch worth more than he would earn in his lifetime. Her crown she had left behind, hanging over a bedpost.

It is safe enough now, Lady, he said. But go back if you hear any arrows fly.

She was the daughter, sister and wife of warriors. I know.

Peering through the slit, she saw torches lining either side of the road leading to the docks. There were more on the beach, more at the docks, and more on ships rapidly speeding out into the harbor. It would be a night of fire and death.

Three hundred feet above the docks, Sereen could still hear the roar from men there as fireboats burst into flame, accompanied by a bombardment of pitch balls. She wondered which man they had to thank for it—King or Commander? Either way, Havacia had gone to war. Drums were pounding at the shoreline. Their savage cacophony would vibrate through every body, increasing the sense of menace and might until men would throw themselves on spear points, if need be, to defend their homeland. Every Havacian knew that Karlisfyrrd had never been and must never be breached.

They are in the harbor! she called to the assembled women and children. Huddled in anxious knots, they looked up at her, as whey-faced as she was but silent, never voicing fear. Our fireboats have reached them. I see masts afire, and sails. She was reluctant to add the rest.

They are engaged.

Everyone knew what that meant. Fire would only do so much. At some point, it must be men leaping or swimming to enemy craft, ships grappling, sword and dagger and death, sails being hacked down, bodies being thrown and blown overboard, some of them on fire. Archers were assembled onshore, but could not loose for fear of hitting their own men. They would only do it when the targets were clear. And if they were clear, that meant they were coming ashore.

She flinched, watching several craft that had evaded theirs beaching while men swarmed over the sides. Domidians. She had first seen them ten years before at her father’s Keep, where he had assembled them in hopes of defeating Havacia in spite of the fact that he was sending her to the enemy at that very moment.

Outside, she saw Simi turn to the slit where he knew Lord Alfryar would be stationed. Hold the Keep! he shouted, then put spurs to his horse, galloping straight down the road between the two rows of flickering