The Poet Heroic (The Kota Series) by Sunshine Somerville Page A

compliment.
    Sharing a room with his twin brother while they were children had been his father’s idea of making a man out of him. Vale had always been more interested in literature and philosophy; Cruelthor was drawn to war strategy and business. Both boys had thrilled their tutors with a natural aptitude for historical application, and Vale had many happy memories of touring historical sites while they’d been children on the Mainland-Euro. But their father wanted them to follow in his rule, and so they’d moved to the Northern Continent to live in the Capitol House and focus their studies on Dominion government.
    Now eighteen, Vale had his own quarters. His study room was purposefully free of distractions, though all his rooms in the Capitol House were simple and clean. He’d always preferred to read out of paper books rather than a terminal screen, and three books lay open atop his oak desk now. He was studying the history of the DRK, an ancient virus that had nearly eliminated the human race before the original Dominion leader discovered a treatment.
    It’s sick, thought Vale as he looked at ancient pictures of quarantined and infected citizens. This is the Dominion practice I disagree with most. We should give the DRK treatment to everyone, worldwide, and wipe out this virus once and for all. The Dominion has enough power without needing to use the virus as a weapon against our enemies. And the infected factors that roam the unsettled regions are dangerous if not put down. We should protect our citizens.
    Vale got up from his desk and went to his door. Out in the second-story hall, he was immediately struck by the splendor of the Capitol House, the seat of power for the ruling Dominion leader, his father, Thurston Olander. A sparkling chandelier hung over the open room beyond the hall’s railing. Portraits of past Dominion rulers lined the hall, but Vale chose to watch his steps over the plush red carpet. When he reached the stairs, Vale looked out a window to see the green lawns of the garden, and the perfect fall day called to him.
    I need a break from studying, he thought. Final exams or no, I’m going out.
    The base of the stairs met the open room under the chandelier, and Vale heard his father’s voice shouting from an office not far away. Vale always knew who his father was talking to depending on his tone. A modicum of respect meant he was talking to his Elite governors or commanders. Complete distain meant he was addressing one of the Capitol House servants. Pride meant he was talking to Cruelthor. Barely veiled annoyance and anger meant he was talking to Vale.
    Now, the Lord High Commander was shouting at Commander Rilen, which was abnormal. “Rilen, I don’t care how many men you sent! If they didn’t find her, send more!”
    A door slammed.
    Vale darted across the open room to a side door. Here, he entered a mud room with very un-Dominion, untidy piles of yard tools. Vale found his smelly running shoes tucked in a corner behind a bag of birdseed, and he quickly put them on before reaching for the exterior door.
    Outside, he paused on the step and took in a breath of crisp fall air. He descended the steps and started jogging up the path that would lead deeper into the gardens. The lawn was pristine. The fountains were clean, not a stray leaf floating on their surfaces. The pebbled footpath he followed crunched under his feet, and the rhythmic sound of his steps brought him some comfort and familiarity. The cold breeze blowing into his hair and against his warming body felt wonderful.
    Rounding a bend of tall bushes, however, Vale slowed his pace when he saw his brother playing a ballgame with some friends. The boys were all classmates from the Dominion Youth program. All were strapping physical specimens. All bore personality traits common to multiple-generation loyalists – they were arrogant, spoiled, unkind by learned behavior and habit.
    “Beathabane!” his brother called. Cruelthor stopped