Free Breaking the Gloaming by J. B. Simmons Page B

seen him as a young scholar. A Sunan embracing Valemidas, a missionary of culture.  
    “Thank you, Finniel.” I stood to go. I had stayed longer than my duties allowed.
    “My Prince, if I may,” Guthrie said, “there is one more link I should make, tying together the tales of our excellent researchers. This link may have been what caused the attack against Gavon and Finniel.”
    “Yes, I can spare another moment.”
    “Thank you, my Prince.” Guthrie pulled a folded note from his pocket. “Several years ago, Finniel found this paper tucked within an old tome about the Sunan royal family. It is a simple drawing of the royal family tree, with sketches of a few faces. Based on my expert judgment, I believe it is thirty years old, plus or minus a few years. It was going to be copied into the treatise that Gavon and Finniel were writing. We initially thought its value was only decorative, but based on your questions, I have come to believe it will mean much to you. I leave it to your eyes.”
    He handed it to me and I unfolded it gently. It was a large, delicate paper, with many words written in the Sunan language on the top half, and lines connecting the words. From what Guthrie said, they were likely names, a family tree leading to five more names connected to five sketches at the bottom. The top two sketches were of a man and a woman, seemingly a man and his wife, as the three sketches below were of children. Two young girls, probably sisters, and a baby. I figured it was good to have a record of who the prior rulers of Sunan were, but I did not quite know what to make of it.
    “Thank you,” I said, nodding to Guthrie before I turned to go. Finniel was gripping Guthrie’s arm tightly. Guthrie stood still, as if holding his breath. Their tension made me pause.  
    I looked down again and focused on the pictures, especially of the young man, probably the Sunan king at the time. Then my eyes froze on the young woman, and the girls and the baby. This was the family that was killed. Thirty years ago. Their son was rumored to have escaped Sunan.
    My breath suddenly gave out. My chest compressed as if under a weight, a weight far heavier than the throne. I felt Ulysses and Jon grab my arms as I fell to my knees.
    I glanced at the paper again. The young king had my eyes, my mouth. A hundred pieces of my past fell into place. This man was my father.

Chapter 9
    FEMMES AND BOYS

    “Nothing great in the world
    has been accomplished
    without passion.”

    Many assume a celibate prophet feels no attraction to the fairer sex. Ilias knew a lifetime of examples to the contrary, but never had the truth hit him with such force. The princess of Valemidas stood before him with no clothes and no shame. Her beauty almost compelled him to speak in verse, as he would about his god.  
    His Excellency had taken foreigners’ heads over offenses like refusing to bow and looking him directly in the eyes. This princess was fortunate to have brought important news and Ramzi’s head. She would need much guidance if she hoped to survive and work her way into His Excellency’s graces. Something about her told him this would be harder than smoothing the hump of a camel.
    “I am Ilias the Sun Seer, Steward of Sunan, Counselor to His Excellency.” He bowed formally.  
    Her demeanor softened subtly. Her shoulders shifted back, her eyes opened wider, and she almost seemed to smile. “Ilias,” she said, as if savoring the word, “for whom do you wait?”
    “I have been waiting for you, Ravien,” he answered. “I waited because Sebastian wrote and told me to, among other reasons. You almost got yourself killed with your surprise by the palace gate.” Ilias’s words filed out like soldiers. Sunans said he spoke like a military commander, but with gentler intentions. “Here.” He held out Ravien’s dress and boots. “The weapons are taken, of course, but please dress. His Excellency has decided you may serve him, and so you may wear