Rise of Fire

by Sophie Jordan

The king spoke through a mouthful of food. “You don’t know Cullan as I do, son. Of course it’s true. He was always overly ambitious.” He snorted and slurped at his goblet. “Indeed, I know Cullan and I knew her parents. Traveled to Relhok often as a young man. I didn’t spend my youth sequestered inside this city. I rode the expanse of my kingdom and beyond, learning my allies as well as my foes. You’ve done nothing of the kind. It’s limited your understanding.”

  I did not mistake the veiled insult. It was a cutting insinuation that Tebald was better than his son.

  Chasan did not miss it either. “I was not given a choice,” he quickly replied. “I’m not allowed a stone’s throw from this castle without fully armed guards. Otherwise I might know Lagonia and its neighbors better.”

  Tebald grunted. “You’d be dead. And I cannot afford to lose my only son. You’re too valuable.”

  Valuable. Not loved or cared for. He was a commodity. The sleeve of Chasan’s tunic rustled slightly as he lifted his arm. “We can’t have that, can we, Father?”

  “No, we can’t. Your responsibility is to live and further our line.”

  “I will remain ever dutiful and not step out of your prescribed boundaries.” Despite the very correct words, derision threaded through his voice. The king did not miss it either.

  “Scorn my rules all you like, but you’ll stay alive. You and your sister. Our legacy will not die out. Isn’t that right, Princess Luna?”

  My head snapped up; I was unaccustomed to being addressed by my title. I wasn’t certain how to reply. And what did I have to do with any of it? “I’m certain you shall all continue to thrive here. Your fortifications are remarkable.”

  “Indeed. And now that you’re here, we’re assured of that. Tell me, Luna, do you value duty?”

  I felt as though the question was a test. The thought of my parents flashed through my mind. I knew from Sivo that my father believed in serving the people and that his responsibility as king was for that very purpose. Then I thought of myself, and what it was that I should do with my life. Especially now that the kill order would be lifted. Surely I was meant to do more than survive. There had to be more than day-to-day survival. What was my purpose?

  Sivo and Perla predicted that I had a great fate. I didn’t quite know what that fate was, but here I was sitting at the king of Lagonia’s table—and he had just sent a missive out declaring me alive to Cullan.

  I was starting to believe they might be right.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I believe in duty.” I just needed to figure out what it was.

  TWELVE

  Fowler

  I WOKE WITH a groan.

  Agony clawed through me in unrelenting waves, twisting everything inside me to a fine edge of pain. I attempted to prop myself up on my elbows, but failed, collapsing back down with a shudder.

  I sucked in another breath, my chest rising high as my eyes flew wide. A swirl of color greeted me, but I processed nothing. I blinked, attempting to focus.

  The ceiling stretched high above me. Great beams crisscrossed the rafters. I didn’t know this place. Where was Luna? After everything, I had lost her. An oath escaped me and I struggled to rise again, only to fall back down on the bed with another curse.

  A coarse chuckle rewarded my efforts. “Got a foul mouth on you . . . quite unseemly for a prince,” a voice said.

  A face popped into my line of vision. A face I didn’t know. It all came back to me. Lagonian soldiers found us and brought us to Ainswind. We were guests of the king. They knew who I was. That was bad for me and bad for Luna. It was difficult to say who was in more danger. I had to get us out of here.

  I struggled to rise again. My efforts to get out of bed cost me. I only felt worse. Moaning, I turned my head away, my stomach rebelling. Leaning over the bed, I heaved, emptying the contents of my stomach over the side of the bed. Amazing how I could heave up anything at all when I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten.

  A cool cloth was pressed to my forehead. The hand holding it eased me back down on the bed and I was staring at the face of the wizened old man again.

  He leaned over me. “There now, lad.” He wiped the wet cloth over my face and I whimpered. There was no relief. The coolness only contrasted with the hot flush of my skin and heightened my misery.

  I grunted, glad when he stopped.

  But then he poured on fresh torment.

  He took my arm, which I had curled protectively on my chest, and stretched it out at my side. As if that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, he slapped on some foul-smelling ointment. I lifted my head with a hiss as he lathered the concoction up and down from shoulder to wrist.

  The face grinned widely, revealing a smile barren of teeth, save for one rotting canine—a brown teardrop in the gaping maw of his mouth. “Stings, I know.”

  “Are you trying to kill me?” I demanded, dropping my head back on a pillow as the maniacally smiling old man slapped more of that wet concoction on my arm. The fire in my arm raged to new levels.

  “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t be bothering with this stuff. Now cease your squirming. This will heal you.”

  “So I’m not going to die?”

  He shrugged one bone-thin shoulder. For all his rotting teeth, he was well groomed, wearing a fine velvet tunic with embroidery at the cuffs. They hadn’t sent some peasant to look after me.

  His words only confirmed this. “You most assuredly will die. Only not today. You’re fortunate. The king wants you alive or I wouldn’t be here. I’d be feasting in the hall with everyone else.”

  Feasting in the hall with everyone else.

  With Luna? Was she there with everyone else? With Prince Chasan? I didn’t like the way that arrogant peacock looked at her. He knew there was something different about her. He’d figure it out soon. He was no fool. It hadn’t taken me very long to conclude she was blind. My face burned hotter at the memory of how I had first discovered that about her—the intimate moment when she had walked in on me naked. It just drove home how vulnerable she was here in this den of snakes. The last thing I wanted was for them to mark her as weak.

  All thoughts scattered as the burn in my arm grew excruciating. My mouth opened wide on a silent cry. I arched off the bed, my hand flying to the afflicted skin, ready to wipe the awful ointment off.

  The physician held my hand away. “I’m drawing out the venom.”

  He called over his shoulder for someone. I hadn’t even realized anyone else was in the room, but two servants were suddenly there, restraining me to the bed with ropes.

  “’Tis for your own good,” the physician puffed.

  “Luna,” I moaned as though she could appear to give me relief, solace.

  “Ah, your friend is in good hands.”

  Through my fog of pain I detected something in his voice. Something I did not like. Panic flared inside me. I surged harder. The servants exclaimed and threw their weight even more on top of me.

  I strained against their hold, against the pain, until I couldn’t strain anymore. Until I couldn’t fight.

  Closing my eyes, I let go and fell into darkness.

  THIRTEEN

  Luna

  I COULDN’T SLEEP.

  This late, the world inside the castle was silent as a crypt as I paced the confines of my bedchamber, learning its layout, committing it to memory.

  I thought of Fowler, wondering where he was and how he fared inside these thick stone walls. When I asked after him, I was simply told he was being well tended and not to worry. As though he was no longer my concern. As though nothing should ever be my concern again.

  After dinner I had been escorted to my chamber and dressed in a billowy nightgown. A maid sat me down at a cushioned bench and brushed my hair until it crackled around my head. “This will grow out long again before you know it,” she assured me, as though that assurance were necessary.

  Then I was tucked into bed.

  Maris made a little more sense to me now. If this was her
life, if this was how she had been treated all these years, I could understand how marriage to a stranger would be a welcome prospect. Because it was something, anything, to break up the absolute tedium of her days.

  I stepped out onto the balcony, marking its width, gripping the stone railing. Wind lifted my hair back from my ears. I was definitely high above the ground. The current hit me strong, as though there had been nothing in its way until it collided with me. No trees, no cliffs or rocky terrain. I inhaled deeply, marveling at the absence of loam on the air. There was no whiff of dwellers. One could almost imagine they didn’t exist out there. Here inside Ainswind, I felt insulated. It was a dangerous sensation. Nowhere was safe.

  Leaving the balcony, I stopped before the heavy oak door of my chamber and pressed my ear to its length. I heard nothing on the other side. Closing my hand on the latch, I slowly opened the door and stepped out into the wide corridor.

  A rasp of breath and rustle of fabric alerted me to the fact that I wasn’t alone, after all. I spun around to face the individual.

  “Can I assist you, Your Highness?” a guard asked.

  I flinched. It still startled me, hearing that designation applied to me so naturally. Would I ever grow accustomed to it?

  I lifted my chin, grasping for an air of imperviousness, imagining that was the regal thing to do. The guard was actually shorter than I was. The sound of his voice fell below where most men spoke. I angled my gaze downward as I answered him. “I would like to see my friend, Prince Fowler—”

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness, you’re not allowed to see him.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Maris had seen him by now. I was certain of it. She said she would see him this very night, and I doubted she had been turned away. Later, I would likely hear all about it from her—including how handsome Prince Fowler was . . . how he was beyond all her imaginings. An ugly sensation took hold of me. It was unreasonable, but I was jealous that she could see him while I could not. I needed to let that go. The only thing that mattered was that he was receiving the help he needed. Once I had that assurance, I could escape from this place.

  I settled my hands on my hips and addressed another question at the stoic guard. “Were you assigned to guard my door?” That would toss a hurdle in my plans for escape.

  “Just for the night, in case you should need anything, Your Highness.”

  “Am I free to wander the castle?”

  “With an escort, of course.”

  I inhaled thinly. “I don’t need a watchdog.”

  Silence met the statement. Sighing, I shook my head. “Very well. Escort me to Prince Fowler. I’m certain with an escort it’s acceptable—”

  “No one is allowed in to see him without express approval of the king.” Although he spoke in a deferential manner, there was an edge of iron to his voice. He would not be swayed.

  “You mean I do not have the king’s approval to see him?” The guard shifted uneasily on his feet, but neither confirmed nor denied me. “Very well.”

  I spun around and jerked the door to my bedchamber open again. Without another word, I plunged back inside the chamber and resumed my pacing, my thoughts churning as I tried to think of ways I could see Fowler. I couldn’t go until I did.

  Several minutes passed as I came to accept one glaring fact.

  I was a prisoner.

  I fell asleep eventually. My exhaustion must have been deeper than I’d realized. When I woke, there was a lightness to the air. It was midlight.

  Instinctively, I relaxed, the tension that greeted me the moment my eyes opened ebbing away. I stretched my arms above my head, pleasantly pulling my aching muscles and marveling at the sensation of a bed beneath me again.

  “Your Highness, you’re awake,” a feminine voice said.

  I sat up on my elbows, smoothing a hand over my mussed hair.

  “Come,” the woman said, a different servant from the one who’d attended me last night. “I’ll help you dress and escort you to the dining hall. You missed breakfast, but it’s almost lunch. You must be famished.”

  I was famished. The prospect of food had me hopping from the bed. I stood still for her, malleable if not anxious as she dressed me in a gown and pinned my hair back on my head. “There you are now,” she said, patting one last tendril into place. I followed her to the door, where a different guard waited. He escorted me down a corridor and winding stairs into a dining area that was smaller than the great hall. The smell of food tantalized my nose and hunger pains clawed me.

  I hovered at the threshold, my senses prickling as I marked the sounds, the various voices, the clink of silverware, and the tread of servants circling a great round table.

  “Ah, she has woken at last!” King Tebald exclaimed.

  My face warmed at the sudden attention swinging toward me. I inched forward carefully, hoping that I merely looked shy and tentative.

  “Come, there is a seat for you beside Maris. We reserved it for you just in case you roused in time for lunch.”

  At the king’s declaration, I nodded in thanks, my ears perking at the sound of a chair being pulled out, its legs scraping the floor. I tracked this, stepping carefully in case there were any steps or obtrusions. Reaching the chair, I gathered my skirts and sank into the seat, lifting myself slightly as I was scooted in with the aid of a servant.

  “You’re looking well,” a voice breathed at the back of my neck, and I realized it was no servant holding out my chair, but Prince Chasan himself, with his liquid-silk voice. “Blue is a fine color on you.”

  I nodded again, the only form of thanks I could muster. A niggle of sympathy for him wormed through the back of my heart as I recalled how his father had treated him last night. It threatened my resolve to not like him. He sank down in the chair beside me. I realized I was wedged between brother and sister—both of whom I didn’t precisely want to be around, but here I was, trapped.

  I had just managed to pick up my spoon and take a sip from a hearty broth before Maris whispered excitedly, “I saw the prince. He is as handsome as rumored.”

  I swallowed my soup. “How does he fare?”

  “Oh, still feverish, but the physician vows he’ll make a full recovery. I intend to visit him again after lunch. I want to be the first face he sees when he wakes.” This last bit was a breathy sigh from her lips.

  My chest pinched tight. “I am relieved he’s on the mend.” And I was. That was the only thing that mattered—not my petty emotions. Fowler would live.

  Now I could escape this place.

  “Princess Luna.” The king’s voice boomed across the table, claiming my attention. “Cullan has replied to our message this very morning.”

  I startled a bit at this pronouncement. He wasted little time. Something loosened and unfurled inside me. King Tebald had accomplished what would have taken me weeks, perhaps longer to accomplish. Perhaps I never would have done it.

  I nodded once, decisive, consoled. It was done, then. Cullan knew I was alive. He knew that even though he had killed my parents, he had not destroyed everything about them.

  “Already?” a voice I recognized as Frand asked.

  The king chuckled. “I imagine he did not want to prolong his response. My message probably put him in a state.”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty,” the bishop agreed. The word hung, bloated with meaning. He wanted to say more, wanted to convey his disapproval, but knew better after the last time the king had sent him from the room with his tail tucked between his legs.

  I cleared my throat. “Your Majesty, might I ask how he responded?”

  “As expected. He claims you are an imposter and demands your head.” Chasan tensed beside me and I turned slightly toward him, curious at his manner. A hushed silence descended on the table, awaiting the king’s next statement. “He also demands the return of his son.”

  I swallowed and moistened my lips. “He wants Fowler back?”

  “Naturally. You, the true heir to Relhok an
d the”—he paused as if searching for the proper word—“disputed heir.”

  Disputed? Fowler’s position was now disputed? Because of me? It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but I hadn’t thought about it.

  “Now he can no longer lie to me and put me off when I press for him to produce his son to wed my daughter. If in fact that is what I still wish to happen.”

  If. Maris released a tiny gasp beside me. I exhaled. He might not wish for his daughter to marry Maris anymore? Because he had me. What did that mean for Fowler? Specifically, what did that mean for his safety here? His position?

  I shook my head. No. I couldn’t worry about him any longer. I was escaping. And once I was gone, Fowler would become a commodity yet again. Perhaps me disappearing was more important than ever.

  “What will you do, Father?” Chasan asked.

  “Nothing,” the king said simply, slurping at the soup from his bowl.

  “Nothing, Your Majesty?” the bishop asked carefully. “You will not reply to him?”

  “Oh, eventually. I shall make him wait as he has made me wait all these years. I shall enjoy that. It’s my turn now to let him writhe on the line that I hold.”

  “Eventually,” Chasan said, echoing him, “what will you then reply?”

  It was vexing, waiting on this man’s word. He held all the power while we waited on his whims. My knuckles ached from clenching my spoon.

  “I think that when I next contact him, it shall be to invite him to the wedding,” the king said cheerfully, pausing to gulp from his drink. “Two weddings, perhaps. It’s unlikely that he will come, but who knows? Travel is fraught with danger but not impossible.”

  “Two?” I echoed, a sense of foreboding sweeping through me.

  “Yes. It shall be a notable year in the history of Lagonia. Two weddings. Two celebrations after years of so much . . . unpleasantness. Something bright in all this darkness. A ray of hope for all.”

  “Who is getting married?” Chasan asked, and there was something in his voice, something that echoed the bewilderment that swept through me.

  “I suppose the marriage of Maris to Prince Fowler is long overdue.” Tebald sighed, clearly not thrilled about the idea, but at least he hadn’t totally dismissed Fowler. As much as the idea of him married to Maris flustered me, I was relieved to know that he wasn’t in danger.