Like Bethan.
The only difference between Prince Chasan and me was that I turned my back on that life and left it to find something else. Anything else. He was what I used to be.
Chasan stared at me, his expression blank, as my horse pranced over the cobbled rock littered with dung. His eyes, however, were bright and alive, an ice blue more ice than blue. He glanced at the back of Luna’s head before looking at me again, a faint smirk curling his lips. He knew. She was my weakness.
She stared in my general direction, looking a little lost. My chest clenched; I wondered how much longer she could keep from them that she was blind.
“I’m fine, Luna,” I managed to get out, the sound of my voice a dry crack. The effort to speak made my head pound harder, but I did it for her—so that she would feel some reassurance.
We rode deeper into the crowded courtyard. Soldiers and peasants stopped to stare. The distinction between the two groups was greatly visible even without the uniforms. The soldiers were cleaner, leaner, obviously well-fed, while the citizens of Ainswind looked like they could use a good meal or two—along with a bath. A stiff wind might break them.
The soldiers used staffs to push back the peasants and make room for the prince and the rest of us to pass. We rode down narrow lanes between buildings and pens of pigs and goats, hooves clacking over the rocky ground. Eyes watched us from ground level as well as every window and perch above.
I started to slide off the saddle, too weak to hang on, but the soldier behind me caught my arm and held me up. I hated such frailty in me, but there was nothing I could do. Sweat beaded my lip. It was hard to fathom a cure for this slow death. I had seen too many die from toxin before.
I had many regrets; the final and greatest, however, would be leaving Luna here among these strangers. If Chasan was like the me I used to be, then he couldn’t be good or trustworthy. In that same vein, if King Tebald was anything like my father, then she needed to forget about me and get far, far from here.
My head dropped back and I stared up the great, towering lengths of the buildings on either side of us. Heads and arms hung out the countless open windows and balconies, watching us speculatively as we advanced toward the castle. Hopefully, this place and these people would not destroy her. Hopefully, she could find one friend, one ally, in this sea of strangers.
We finally stopped before a long stretch of steps that led to a pair of massive doors. The ornate carved wood parted to reveal several figures. One robed man at the center drew my gaze. He descended the stone-polished steps at a leisurely pace, gold-trimmed robes of blue flashing at his ankles. Several other figures surrounded him, similarly garbed, but no one needed to tell me the man at the center was King Tebald. Even without the crown on his gray head, he held himself with an air of superiority, his chin lifted.
He floated down to the base of the steps and stopped. His retinue hung back several steps, careful not to step past him. He held his arms wide, his broad sleeves floating out at his sides like wings. “My son, I see you’ve returned with different quarry than what you set out to catch.”
“Indeed, Father. We happened upon Breslen and what was left of his party.”
Breslen dismounted and made an elaborate bow. King Tebald held out his hand and his man accepted it, pressing it to his bent brow.
“Breslen, I trust you have happy tidings to share with me from Relhok.”
“Indeed, Sire. Discussions went as we expected. The king did not produce his son. However, I now realize why.”
The king arched a thick eyebrow. “Pray, enlighten me.”
Breslen cast me a quick glance, anxious energy buzzing about him. “He did not have him, Sire.”
The king digested this, puffing out his great barrel chest, his lips working as though he tasted something foul. “He’s dead. Just as I expected. All these years of silence, of Cullan’s evasions—”
“Not dead, Sire,” Breslen dared to interrupt. “Simply gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, and fortune shone on us. I have found him, Your Highness.”
Those great bushy eyebrows lifted. “You’ve found him?”
“Yes, and I’ve brought him to you.” Breslen turned sideways and gestured to me with a wide sweep of his arm.
Tebald’s gaze followed. He scowled. “Him? The boy? There doesn’t look like there’s much to him.” His lip curled faintly as he surveyed me. “He barely looks alive.”
Hard hands helped me down from my saddle unceremoniously. My knees gave out and I buckled to earth, proof of the king’s low estimation. I didn’t stay prone for long before each of my arms was grabbed and I was dragged before the king. They released me and I dropped, head bowed. I struggled to lift the weight of my head and meet the king’s gaze.
He stared down at me, still with that faintly curling lip. “This is the crown prince of Relhok?” He flicked beringed fingers in the air over me.
“Sire, I’ve visited Relhok City several times, as you know. I’ve dined with him. Spoken with him. I watched him demonstrate his great prowess with a bow and arrow.” Breslen stabbed a finger in my direction. “This boy is the prince of Relhok.”
His declaration carried far, and gasps and titters broke out from the crowd assembling around the castle. I understood their disbelief. From what I observed, Lagonian peasants looked better off than I was, and yet I was supposed to be royalty.
King Tebald stared at me unflinchingly. I inhaled labored breaths, trying to keep myself upright and not disgrace myself by collapsing again. My head and shoulders slumped, the weight unbearable, but I didn’t look away from his eyes. It was one lesson my father had taught me that I held close—always hold a man’s gaze.
“Is this true?” he finally asked me. “You’re the prince of Relhok?” There was a beat of silence, and then he added my name. “Fowler?” Impatience hummed off him. He was tidy and well-groomed, his gray hair and beard close-cropped. “Well? Answer me.”
My breath came in violent spurts. I moistened my dry and cracked lips, reaching for my voice, but the words were buried just out of my reach. My head spun. Faces whirled in a kaleidoscope. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I fell, toppling over and rolling to my back.
My last sight was the gabled peaks of Tebald’s castle etched against the chalk sky.
NINE
Luna
“FOWLER!” I CRIED out, recognizing the sound of him collapsing. Without waiting for assistance, I dismounted, sliding quickly to the ground and rushing to where he had crumpled into a pile.
My hands landed on him, gingerly assessing, trying to determine if he still lived. His chest lifted with the barest rise of air. My shoulders sagged with relief and my head dropped as I took a moment to find my composure. This was all on me.
I lifted my head and swung my sightless gaze around at all the people I sensed watching. “Help,” I said in a surprisingly commanding voice. No one moved. “Help him!” I shouted, louder and with more force.
“Who is this?” a voice rang out with total authority.
“Your Highness, this is the prince’s companion. She was attending him most diligently when I found them.”
The king shifted his weight from his perch several steps above me. I heard him sniff as though catching my scent. He coughed slightly and cleared his throat, evidently finding it unpleasant. I would suspect as much. After days of traveling, sleeping on Digger’s musky pelt, and diving underground to wade through the dwellers’ tangled labyrinth, I probably smelled like a latrine. Not that the courtyard of this city smelled much better.
“Is this true? Come closer, girl.”
I shook my head and continued to touch Fowler, needing to assure myself he was still with me. I brushed my palms over his burning-hot face and barely moving chest.
There was a slight snapping of fingers and I was hauled to my feet. Rough hands dragged me up the few steps. A relentless grip at the back of my neck forced me down on my knees. My forehead struck a stone-polished st
ep with an unforgiving whack. Gray spots flashed across the darkness of my mind. Pain radiated throughout me.
“Bow before the king and answer when spoken to,” a harsh voice rasped in my ear, a voice that didn’t belong to any man in our group. After three days, I knew everyone’s voice distinctly. Also, Breslen and the others had never been so harsh with me. Even the prince himself had not been this savage. This hand at my neck, this voice in my ear . . . he enjoyed brutality.
“You were his companion?” the king pressed.
His man’s cruel fingers fisted in my hacked hair and yanked my head back on my neck, presumably to grant me a view of the king. I swallowed a whimper, committed to putting on a brave front—and determined to remember his voice, his faintly musty smell. I would not forget this man.
Steps sounded beside me, and then I recognized Prince Chasan’s voice. “Easy there, Harmon. It’s not necessary to cave her head in on the palace steps.”
My head throbbed. I inhaled through my nostrils and tried to quell the nausea, attempting to focus in front of me where I knew the king stood. “Y-Yes,” I stammered over the ringing in my ears.
Harmon’s voice growled in my ear again. “You will address the king properly.” He gave another yank on my hair, the roots dangerously close to being ripped from my head.
I swallowed a whimper. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Is it true, then?” the king asked, unaffected by my suffering at the brute’s hands. Was ruthless indifference a feature among all kings? Was my father that way? From everything Sivo had told me, he had not been like that. Perhaps if he had been, he would have seen Cullan’s treachery coming. Perhaps then he would still be alive. “Your companion? He is the prince of Relhok?” Even though he asked the question, I sensed he didn’t care one way or another about my response.
Harmon’s grip tightened in my hair, prompting an answer. I gasped. “Why ask me? I’m no one to you.”
Harmon’s fingers twisted, but thankfully he didn’t yank again.
The king answered evenly, “True, but I’m curious for your answer. What do you know of your companion? How long have you been together? Liars don’t last very long around here. I have no tolerance for them.”
“He only introduced himself as Fowler to me.” Not a lie.
I knew Fowler didn’t want these people to know who he really was, but it seemed useless to continue pretending. He had tried to deny it earlier, but then I thought of him, lying on the ground in a broken heap as I went back and forth with the king of Lagonia. Suddenly it didn’t matter to me that Fowler wanted to protect his identity. I wanted him to live. With that burning thought, I admitted, “It was only recently that he revealed his true identity to me.”
Silence met my words. Even the onlookers held their tongues. I felt the king’s stare on my face.
Suddenly he laughed. “You’re correct, Breslen. You brought me something far greater than news from Relhok. You brought me the crown prince himself.” He clapped his hands. His joviality seemed to be the signal for everyone else. They all broke out in cheers and applause.
I don’t know what I said or did that convinced him I spoke the truth, but he believed me. “Guards,” he called. “Quickly. Carry him inside and call for my physician. I want him well attended. He must live.”
My shoulders sagged as movement broke out all around me. Fowler was going to be taken care of. He would heal.
“What about her?” Prince Chasan asked near me, revealing he hadn’t forgotten about me in all the revelry.
“A friend of the prince of Relhok must be our honored guest, too. Never let it be said that the king of Lagonia was a poor host. See to that she is given a room, fed, and bathed thoroughly. She offends my nose.”
Harmon relaxed his grip on my hair with a grunt, practically flinging me from him. My hands slapped palm-down on a step as he moved away from me.
Prince Chasan helped me to my feet. “There now. Keep telling the truth and no one will hurt you.”
I dragged a shaking hand down my face, wondering if that could possibly be true.
“Chasan? What are you doing?”
I stiffened at the nearness of the king’s voice, closer than before. I inhaled, catching the improbable aroma of roasted hog. I’d tasted wild pig only once. Years ago Sivo had caught one. I was very little, but I still remembered the rich aroma of the meat and the roasted acorns and wild berries that Perla had stuffed inside it.
“Just talking to the girl, Father.”
“Whatever for? Let one of the servants attend to her. You and I have much to discuss with Breslen. I want you there.”
“I’m seeing to her comfort, Father. I was thinking she might enjoy staying in the rose suite.”
“The rose suite? For her?”
I lifted my chin at his bewildered tone, my ego getting the best of me. Perla’s voice filled my ears, reminding me of who my parents were, my grandparents, the long line of kings and queens who came before me. Their blood ran in my veins. I could not stop myself from flinging his words back at him. “I am your honored guest, am I not, Your Highness?”
Suddenly my chin was seized in a brutal pinch of bony fingers. My face was turned hard left and right. I felt Tebald’s gaze, his hot breath on my cheek as he examined me.
“Have I seen you before, girl?”
My heart stuttered at the question and the implication. I looked familiar. “N-No, Your Highness. We’ve never met. I’ve never even been to Lagonia before.”
He still clung my chin, looking me over. I held my composure and tried not to think about how I must look—shorn hair stiff with mud from the bowels of the earth. I clutched the shredded edges of my tunic with a single hand, hugging my modesty close.
There were so many people watching, devouring me with their judging eyes. I heard their low murmurs, and the shifting of countless slippered feet. Here they wore kid slippers that never stepped from the sanctuary of this city. They had no need of sturdy boots like I wore.
“You’re familiar,” the king finally concluded. “It will be interesting to see you without this layer of filth.” He released my chin. “The rose suite it is.”
He left me, ascending the steps.
“The rose suite is beautiful, Luna. It’s in a corner tower. Excellent view,” Chasan remarked, his tone conversational and cordial, as though I were an invited guest and not some manner of peasant in their eyes. “Enjoy it.”
I nodded, my legs trembling as a servant arrived to lead me up the steps and into the palace.
TEN
Luna
EVEN WHEN I lived in comfort with Sivo and Perla, I had never known luxury like what waited for me in the rose suite.
Three women attended me, chattering amicably as they dunked me in a copper tub full of warm, scented water—this after they exclaimed in horror over my shorn hair and ruined garments.
They gossiped. Names of people I didn’t know bounced off me. It was just as well. It was hard to think as they lathered my aching muscles with sweet-smelling soap. One scrubbed at my nails, determined to rid them of their grime. My head drooped under their ministrations.
Any modesty I had in those early moments fled. They scrubbed every inch of my skin until it felt raw and new. Following that, they guided me out of the tub and wrapped me in a fluffy, stone-warmed towel. They led me over a plush rug to a thick cushioned bench positioned before a dressing table, where they proceeded to lather me with lotions that made my skin sigh in appreciation. I perked up at the mention of Chasan’s name.
“Did you hear about Prince Chasan and Susa?”
“The girl who works in the laundry?”
A knowing hmm responded to that. “That’s what you get for aiming above your station,” the servant woman added. “She always did think too highly of herself.”
The servant who was rubbing a silky mixture in my hair clucked her tongue. “What was she thinking? He would make her his queen? Ha! The fool.”
The three of them made sounds o
f agreement over this. I listened, fascinated despite myself.
“That Susa never did possess a peck of common sense. Everyone knows that Prince Chasan enjoys a pretty face. Only the very stupid think they can matter to him beyond the moment.”
“Well, Susa’s just like her mother. Fair of face, empty of head.” More laughter followed, but I was beginning to get a sense of who the prince of Lagonia was. I had heard the arrogance in his voice, but now I knew the full extent. He was handsome and powerful, preying on the girls of his kingdom.
Once I was clean and feeling like a new person, they dressed me in a gown that laced up at the front.
“We need to fatten you up,” one of the women said, offering me a tray of iced biscuits. I knew the pastries were before me instantly. I smelled the sticky-sweet icing as my fingertips sank into the goodness. I moaned as I bit into one, the warm biscuit giving way under my teeth the same moment the creamy icing hit my tongue. It was bliss.
“Careful not to get it on your gown,” one of the servants chided.
I nodded and reached for another one, practically shoveling it into my mouth.
“Gor, never did see such a little thing eat with such a fury.”
A heavy door creaked open. I didn’t stop inhaling the biscuit, assuming it was another servant; a female from the sound of her slight tread.
I plucked a third biscuit and proceeded to devour it as thoroughly as I did the first two.
A slight giggle penetrated my love affair with the delicious pastries.
“Careful there. You might eat your fingers.” This new arrival didn’t sound like the other servant women. Despite her giggling, her voice was youthful and she fairly bounced as she walked, the fine satin of her gown swishing as she advanced into the room.