The Butterfly Effect

He’d always considered himself a guard, a protector—but he could do nothing to stop Nigel’s drunken rage.

Thero had seen the middle and endings of many fights but, since Zofie was hardly ever involved, to witness a beginning was rare. He wondered if they always started with such a spontaneous burst, or if perhaps there were cues he hadn’t picked up on; he then wondered if there had been cues, and he was able to recognize them, if he could’ve done any more for her.

He couldn’t remember what, exactly, compelled them to wait for everyone to come before sitting down. Perhaps they all had a feeling that something was going to happen. Odelle and Kadol were already in the dining room, having some hushed conversation, before Thero and Zofie came. Dimas came a moment or two after. Nigel came late, already drunk, and seemed completely disinterested before his eyes fell on Zofie.

He usually did little more than acknowledge her. Even drunk, it seemed he understood her importance—she had to become queen, and as weak as she was, it put more at risk to hurt her than Odelle or Dimas. One wrong move could very well cause a string of consequences Nigel was smart enough to avoid. So, normally, the most he would do was push her away, or hit her once and leave.

But something changed in his expression this time. There was no longer a sense of reason. Just a kind of rage that seemed to belong more to a beast than a man. And this time, there was no consideration of consequences. Without a moment of warning, he marched over to her, shoved her against the wall, and beat her.

Odelle had tried to stop him, but he pushed her away; Thero held Dimas back to stop both of them from trying in vain to help Zofie; Kadol watched, an unmoving pillar, only a spark in his eyes and clenched fist hinting at a form of fury.

Nigel stopped on his own, after what felt like hours. Maybe he’d simply taken out his rage and decided to stop, or sobered up enough to realize what he was doing. No matter which it was, he scoffed and left, no part of him appearing to possess even a hint of remorse for what he’d done to the now-unconscious princess lying on the floor.

…

Thero thought of that night constantly. It had seemed like, before, he’d witnessed Nigel’s deeds as a distant observer. It wasn’t that Thero hadn’t cared about Odelle or Dimas—far from it. But something awoke in him that night, and grew as Zofie recovered from it. He was supposed to be there to protect her. Yet he, with all his strength, was still powerless against the king. It was a truth that he didn’t want to face—that there would be some things he couldn’t protect her from. He still decided to live in ignorance, instead swearing that he would never let such a thing happen again.

It was a few years from that night; Dimas was in Seothia, a servant having just read aloud his letter to Odelle and Zofie. Thero didn’t know where Kadol or Nigel were—both of them always seemed to be there one moment, and gone the next, so he’d stopped trying to keep track.

“I think that Stone girl is going to get someone killed,” Zofie remarked with a frown.

Odelle, though, had a soft smile. “I think it’s good that he’s able to see the land.”

“Mother, they think trying to find a non-existent manticore in Seothia, of all places, is a good idea. It’s stupid.”

“No one said they had to find anything.”

“I don’t think the Stone girl got the message.”

There was a knock on the door before it slowly opened. Kadol, sounding more tired than anything else, said, “Odelle, you have a meeting soon.”

She nodded. “Alright, I’ll be right there. Zofie, can you respond to him? And try to be nice—let them have their adventure.” Before her daughter could say anything else, she left with Kadol.

Zofie sighed. “Thero, could you be able to tell me why I’m not happy?”

“I can’t say I understand.” He knew exactly what she meant, actually, but was genuinely curious to see if she’d be able to determine the cause for herself.

“Dimas doesn’t need to be involved in any of this anymore—not as much as he used to be, anyway. He has the chance to make friends and be happy. And I should be happy, because he’s happy. But I’m not. I almost wish King Casper and Queen Minne hadn’t agreed to let him keep coming. That’s bad of me, isn’t it..?”

“I don’t think it is. As much as you don’t want to see him get hurt, you don’t want him to have to leave you to make it happen. You don’t want to have to say goodbye…” He only trailed off because, for the first time in years, an image of Cadence flashed in his mind.

Zofie tilted her head. “Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing at all. Let’s get that letter to Dimas written, shall we?”

…

He wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if things had gone a bit differently. Zofie hadn’t been feeling well that night and Thero had been able to convince her to rest instead of following her original plans. Immediately, when he heard what happened, he’d considered it a good thing.

But had it been, really?

Yes, there was a chance that whoever murdered Odelle that night wouldn’t have cared if Zofie was watching, or Thero was there—worse yet, depending on who it was, they could’ve killed both of them. But if Zofie had been there, then Thero would have too, meaning Odelle might have had someone with her. Who knows, maybe the person who did it wouldn’t have acted if they knew she wasn’t alone. Thero ultimately had to tell himself that it wasn’t worth wasting time over considering.

The only good thing that came out of it was that Nigel committed suicide the moment he’d heard the news.

It was in those coming weeks, as the kingdom mourned the death of their queen, and Zofie prepared to take her place, that Thero allowed a particular thought to linger in his mind. He’d been serving the royal family for over two decades now. Most of that time he spent observing—their surroundings, the people they had to interact with, those people’s intentions. Usually he was able to determine some kind of motive behind the person; understand their thinking.

There was one person he could never figure out: Kadol. Both Kyra and Odelle seemed to sing his praises, pointing out how his family had been serving as royal advisors since Queen Philomena’s reign. But there was something in that calculating glare, the cold stance, how he seemed to be there whenever he was needed but disappeared when no one thought to look for him.

So one night, when the question couldn’t stand to be left unanswered any longer, and he was certain Zofie was asleep, Thero sought out Kadol. The advisor was talking to a few clergy members but, when he noticed Thero, he bid them farewell.

“Zofie’s sleeping, I assume?” Kadol prompted. “She’s got a lot of long days ahead of her. We need to assure she’s as ready as possible to take on such challenges.”

Thero decided to get straight to the point. He kept his voice low, knowing that the castle halls will carry any sound louder than average. “Where were you that night?”

Kadol gave him an amused grin. “You think I would commit such an act of treason?”

“You’ve never exactly given me a reason to think otherwise.”

“Alright, then tell me. What motive do you think I would have for murdering my oldest and closest friend? We’ve all deemed Zofie capable of ascending to the throne despite her age—I’m still an advisor, not a regent. I have no more power, no more wealth, than I did before.”

“I’ve seen how that magic you taught her affects her. I know there’s more you aren’t telling me. I may not be able to say exactly what it is, but I know you have a secret.”

Kadol laughed and started to walk away. “Do you, now?” He looked back, the amusement in his expression turned into something more wicked. “And who are they more likely to believe? Me, the royal advisor, or you, the man who’d be nothing without his skill for a blade?”

Thero went to defend himself, but he stopped. It would’ve been like trying to argue with Nigel—someone who knew he possessed enough power to make challenging him a fool’s mistake.

“Oh, and don’t bother Zofie with this,” Kadol remarked as he continued to leave. “She’s got a lot to worry about. This little disagreement of ours doesn’t need to be one of them.”

…

Suffice to say, Zofie did not inherit even a fragment of her mother’s love of children.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, coldly, to the baby Thero was now holding. “You know you’re a little nightmare spawn, don’t you?”

The baby laughed and she recoiled when he reached out to her.

“Take that gods-forsaken thing somewhere else,” she commanded. A nun dutifully came up, took the baby from Thero’s arms, and rushed away with it. Zofie shivered. “I want it out of my castle as soon as possible. Kadol, what can we do to get rid of it?”

“I suppose the church could take care of him,” he replied.

“I’ll admit I know little on the matter, but would that be wise?” Thero asked. “We’ve proved who he is. He isn’t just an Ilethera, he’s a dreamer—and a powerful one. We can’t be sure of the kinds of things he’s capable of.”

Zofie sighed. “You’re right, the little demon’s probably summoning Skiá right now.” She paused. “Kadol, I want increased patrols around Hyasari and all nearby villages. Get the mages, not the soldiers. Let the church know.”

He gave some sort of wave to another servant, who quickly left. “Consider it done.” He wandered to the other side of the room. “Remind me, didn’t King Imre show an interest in learning about the dreamers? A way to solve Seothia’s Skiá problem, if I recall correctly.”

“Are you suggesting I give my brother-in-law a creature that likely has the chance of murdering him? Can you imagine what Dimas would be like if that happened? Assuming that thing didn’t kill him, too?”

“So would you like to admit that Qizar is actually a safer place for the child?”

She stopped and, when the full extent of it reached her, she shook her head with a sense of urgency. “I don’t want that thing here any longer than it needs to be.”

“Shall I send something to Dimas, then? If they think they’re ready for it, then I don’t see why we shouldn’t let them try.”

She clearly didn’t like either of the options, but eventually nodded. “Don’t tell him anything about what it is. It’s going to take him longer if he knows it’s a baby—just tell him I want to speak with him. We’ll sort the rest out when he gets here.”

…

Thero would consider himself rather patient, when it came to the matters that quickly arose as Zofie approached her twenty-fifth birthday. A few men were brave enough to try to approach her, but left disappointed and sometimes humiliated. Kadol and occasionally Dimas would remind her that she would soon need to find a husband; or, at the very least, find someone who would be willing to father an heir to the throne. But no such suggestions came from Thero.

Perhaps it was because the politics of the matter were largely lost on him. He couldn’t have been the only one that thought of Odelle. He didn’t want to see Zofie faced with a similar heartbreak—he knew it was unlikely, but the thought was enough that he didn’t even want to risk it. Besides, knowing her constitution… he wasn’t even sure if such a thing should be risked. It seemed he was the only one that might’ve been willing to point it out, though. He thought those fears would be his only objection.

Then he met Allen, who gave him more mixed signals than anyone ever had.

On one hand, Allen clearly cared for Zofie. He made her smile and laugh, and she showed a kind of comfort around him that she didn’t have with any other possible suitors. But he was also just like Kadol—there one minute, gone the next. There was one night—one of the first—when Kadol and Allen glared at each other over the table as Kadol and Nigel had done some days.

Thero seemed to be the only one to possess such strong feelings, however. Kadol, for the most part, must have liked Allen—they spent a suspicious amount of time whispering to each other. Dimas held no clear stance on the matter but Thero knew that, if he had any doubts of Allen’s intentions, he’d have spared no time in pointing it out. It only occurred to Thero years later that Domenique was never explained the situation, though he was unsure if she even cared enough to know. Thero had considered voicing his opinions, but he knew how Zofie was. There was a chance he could be wrong, after all, and he understood that, if the idea was suggested, she wouldn’t be able to forget it. If she couldn’t trust the man she very well might have married, then how could she trust another?

It turns out she'd figured it out on her own… right when she’d gone to tell him the exciting news.

…

He watched as the toddler clumsily copied her mother’s movements. Zofie was teaching her a children’s song about Orestis’s promises. Little Philyra likely didn’t understand the meaning of the words so much as she enjoyed clapping along.

Thero hadn’t noticed Kadol standing beside him until he spoke. “Seeing them peaceful like this reminds me a bit of Odelle. Don’t you agree?”

Though momentarily startled, Thero nodded. “I suppose.”

“I hope this is a kind of peace that can last.”

“You know, that almost makes it sound like you’re planning something.”

Kadol chuckled. “I’m the royal advisor. Should I not be prepared for anything?”

Thero resisted the urge to say anything that might start a disagreement. “Well, you came here for a reason, didn’t you? Should you or I tell her there’s somewhere else she needs to be?”

“It’s just Dimas and Natheniel,” Kadol remarked. “I think they’ll understand if she’s a little late to meet with them. I’ll give her and Philyra a little while longer.”