by R. K. Thorne
She felt suddenly dizzy with fear and lurched as her concentration wavered. Flying needed her whole mind. She thrust the thoughts away—whatever was done was done. She couldn’t have gotten the prince any more smoothly or been any luckier. She had done her best, and that was all she could do.
Aven’s head was spinning. After the woman dropped him into the little bag, which was now much larger than him, everything was still and dark for a brief moment. Then he was swinging, listing wildly left and right. His stomach dropped as he was lifted—up, up, up!
What in all the stars and moons had just happened?
Given his newly tiny size, the cloth of the bag was knit as tightly as he might have hoped. If he tried, he could see between the fibers to the snow and mountains swinging below him. This made him even more nauseous, so he shut his eyes and covered them with his strange little hands. He wasn’t sure what he was, but he had white and brown fur… and a tail.
Where could she be taking him? How was she flying, and how did she transform like that? Would he ever see his mother or father or any of them again? Who was this woman who’d swept him away on freshly grown wings?
He sighed. This was just what he deserved. He had wished for something else, something beyond Estun. He had taken it all for granted. Would this be better or worse? Time would tell, but being kidnapped and transformed into a tiny animal didn’t really bode well. Perhaps he would spend his eternity as some eagle-witch’s pet mouse.
After a while, with his eyes shut tight, the rocking became lulling, and at some point he fell asleep. Or he passed out. It didn’t matter which.
Chapter 4
Introductions and Observations
Elise stared after the eagle in shock. The blue book Aven had been carrying this morning lay on the floor on its edges, skewed open as if dropped mid-sentence. He was nowhere in the garden. She’d been right behind him. But he was gone, and all that was here in his place was this book.
And the eagle flying away into the distance.
She was rusty. She cursed her indulgent lack of practice; she hadn’t used significant magic in years. But she desperately flung a wisp of herself after the eagle and found what she feared—the strange, musty, wild smell of creature magic, the bright lights of two beings there in the sky.
It was no ordinary eagle—it was a mage. And the mage had taken Aven.
Her pulse began to race—but she needed to think, not panic. Instead, she felt weak. Her thoughts swam. Someone had ripped her heart out, and it moved farther away with each second, carried off by some malevolent mage.
Could this have to do with the princess? That damned Devoted Knight? What did she need to do? What could she possibly do?
Before she realized what she was doing, she leapt into the air after them. She was no majestic eagle, but she had not forgotten how to be a sparrow, how to ride the winds like a little girl. It was not something she could forget.
The eagle gained distance. Her wings ached, and her little heart beat as though it might explode.
This was stupid. No one in Estun knew what had happened or where she’d gone. Even if she caught the eagle, what would she do? Fight her? She was not bad with a bow, but she had no weapons with her. She had never used magic to fight. She suspected the same was not true of her adversary. She would never catch them, and if she did, she had no idea how to prevail.
She couldn’t do this alone. She needed help.
But she also couldn’t just let them fly away.
She groped at the earth below her, thrashing her mind on the mountainsides, searching for any mobile creature she could find until—a hawk. That creature! she commanded with all the force of two decades as a queen. It has my son. Follow it—do not let them go!
She could feel the hawk’s understanding, her own feelings for an egg that had yet to hatch. Somewhere lower on the mountainside, the bird leapt into the air. The hawk would at least try, and that was more than generous.
Elise turned in flight and raced back to the balcony, her transformation unraveling sloppily as she continued to run from where she landed to the bench where he’d been sitting. The book was still there. She snatched it and rushed inside.
When Aven awoke, he was lying on his back in the woods. It seemed to be later in the day; the sun shone in strong, dramatic beams through the treetops. Tall, skinny pine trees, red maples, orange oaks—they all were lit up by the autumn sun against a clear blue sky.
He felt… better. More like himself. He was afraid to look and discover something different. He forced himself to raise a hand in front of his face. The lines of his palm, his fingernails, and knuckles—they’d never looked so welcome, so familiar!
But below that—on his wrist hung the bracelet of a pair of heavy shackles. The air around him stirred uncomfortably, and a wave of dread and apprehension whipped through him. Now that he hadn’t seen before.
Glancing around from his prone position, he couldn’t see much. He sat up and immediately discovered two things. First, he was completely naked. Second, a woman crouched nearby, leaning against a tree trunk. She was the one that had brought him here, and she must have been the one that had shackled him. And taken his clothes. Why in heavens would she do that?
She noticed he was awake. Her tea-brown eyes caught on his, and their gazes locked for one minute, then two. They stared at each other, like two predators stumbling into the same clearing, not yet ready to fight, but not ready to run, either. She frowned at him with eyebrows that arched elegantly over delicate skin. Her red hair was tied tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark leather garments tailored themselves to her athletic form, both striking and threatening. She was studying him as he studied her. She seemed content with staring till the sun set and the moon rose.
Finally, he looked away. He shifted uncomfortably in the dirt and looked down at the short chain between the shackles, realizing suddenly that her study included some of his more private bits. He cleared his throat, hoping to work up his nerve.
“Well, then. This is not much of a proper introduction. You already know my name, aren’t you going to tell me yours?” he said.
The wind through the trees picked up ominously. He realized abruptly that he didn’t need to stop it, worry about it, or try to hide it. A strange, devious thrill jumped through him—so strong, it frightened him a little.
“No,” she said simply. She glanced around at the leaves falling gracefully from the wind’s meddling. A yellow leaf fluttered past her face. By the gods, what a striking image. She was almost as beautiful as autumn in all its sunny glory. If only he weren’t naked in the dirt with his wrists shackled, perhaps he could more properly enjoy it.
“No? Well, that’s not very civil.” Talking might get her talking, even if it was nonsense.
She rolled her eyes and stood up from her crouch. “You don’t need to know,” she said as she turned her back on him and looked past the tree as if searching for something or someone approaching.
Did she have others joining her? Perhaps she would hand him off to someone else now. What was she planning? Was she going to kill him here in the woods? Really, that didn’t seem likely. She could have done that already by dropping his tiny furry body hundreds of feet into the snow, or slicing his throat while he lay unconscious. So she must have some use for him first. Or she meant to kidnap him.
She must be a mage, he thought, but what kind? Damn, if only he’d gotten to read more of that book. He’d been so close to so much more knowledge. She could not be an air mage, like him.
“You’re a creature mage, aren’t you?” he said to her back.
She raised her eyebrows, mocking as she peered over her shoulder at him. “What powers of observation.”
“Why have you brought me here?” he demanded.
Amused, she turned back to face him. She folded her arms in front of her and leaned against the side of the tree. “My, my, we are full of questions. Do princes in Akaria always get their questions answered at every beck and ca
ll?”
It was his turn to glare. “When questions are asked civilly, then usually, yes, they do.”
She laughed—a beautiful, musical laugh, but with a dash of dark bitterness. “Well, this is clearly not a civil situation, is it, little prince.”
She turned away from him again.
“What are you looking for?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer. After a moment or two, she whistled a few low, lovely notes. Then she turned back to him.
He returned her gaze for a few moments. Her face was a little amused, unafraid. She was watching him, he realized. Not studying, just making sure he didn’t try to run away. Guarding him. He glanced around. The forest seemed to stretch in all directions, at least to the tops of the hills and the bends in the paths that he could see. They were in the middle of nowhere. The mountains were to the north of them, where he was pretty sure they’d come from.
Well, it was unsurprising that she wouldn’t give him a name. Clearly, she wasn’t trying to make friends. And why should she tell him her plans? She might be holding him here for someone to arrive. Or she planned to do something to him or take him somewhere. None of these things were likely to be things he’d want to go along with, or he wouldn’t be sitting there in shackles in the first place.
But did it really require him to be naked? Yes or no, digging into that might tell him something.
“What happened to my clothes?” he said finally.
“Oh,” she said. She dug into a pack beside her, pulled out something gray, and tossed it at him, then something else. “There.” His shirt flew toward him, and he brought up his hands to catch it but missed. To his surprise, however, the shirt flew straight through the shackle in the chain and hit him in the chest.
Forgetting the clothes for a moment, he held one hand up in the air and grabbed at the chain with the other. Nothing. He could not grasp it. But as he moved his hands apart, the chain pulled taut and would not let his hands farther apart than his shoulders.
“It’s invisible, too.” Her voice cut into his thoughts. “You’re the only one that can see it. But that little trick you just saw will make putting your shirt on easier.”
What strange magic was this? He sat staring at the shackles a while longer and then shrugged and started putting on his shirt. By the time he had his pants and underclothes on, his boots were thrown at his feet, and he put them on, too.
Hoof beats approached. Two horses cantered toward them, one golden and saddled, the other light gray with dramatic, dark hair. The creatures stopped just before his captor.
The whistle, he thought. She had called them with magic. There were so many things he didn’t know. He simply stood, dumbfounded, watching her whispering to them. If he could forget the journey here and her likely vicious intentions, it was an enchanting scene. Perhaps he’d been too long under the mountain, but between the glorious sunlight, the vibrant leaves, the majestic horses, and the way the sun caught in her fiery hair, the beauty of his surroundings made him catch his breath for a moment.
She glanced sideways at him. He looked away. She focused on the horses, checking them over, no longer watching him.
No longer watching him…
No time to think it through—he took off running in the opposite direction.
Strangely, the chain on the shackles made no sound, but his feet in the leaves sure did. She made no acknowledgement that she’d seen him go, and he couldn’t waste the time or energy to look back. He just went for it, fast as he could, dodging tree trunks and branches.
Then, without warning, the ground in front of him broke open and thin, wiry black vines leapt from the ground, swirling and twisting around each other until a wall of brambles rose in front of him, stopping his path.
That was just the distraction, though. Vines had twined around his ankles and were swirling up his calves and rooting him in place. By the ancients, what power! It took his breath away for a moment and would have frozen him in his tracks with or without the vines. He knew so little. Could his mother do things like this? He could hardly imagine it, but she must be able to. No wonder she had hesitated to give up magic to be queen.
He tried to look behind him but couldn’t turn far enough. He stopped trying and just waited. Her approach was very quiet, as if there were no leaves crunching under her feet, but the jingling of the golden horse’s bridle let him know they approached.
She came around in front of him and faced him. “Nice try,” she said, a crooked smile on her face. “You’re far from out of shape.” Well, she had seen that for herself before he’d gotten his clothes back, hadn’t she? She reached down and grasped the shackle’s chain—the one that had fallen through his fingers and his shirt—and twisted it like she was tying a knot. And then suddenly there was another chain coming away from the center of the first. She looked up at him, eyes twinkling.
“No more of that. I hope you see that you can’t get away. Now, on the horse with you.” The vines curled away from his feet and back into the ground. The bramble barrier remained.
“Tell me your name, and I will,” he demanded.
“We are not trading—just do it.” She jerked the chain toward the horse.
He stalled, trying to think of something to convince her. “Please?”
She frowned at him but did not immediately say no. Perhaps she was weighing the potential cost of telling him her name against a reward of more cooperation—and if telling him her name would really get her that. But at this point, he just genuinely wanted to know. He felt a slight, gentle breeze that he often projected when he was desperately curious. Her eyes flicked around. The unnaturalness of the air’s movement wasn’t lost on her, although its meaning was probably unclear. It was rarely clear even to him.
“If I tell you, you’ll shut up, get on the horse, and do as I tell you?” It was part question, part demand.
He nodded.
“Mara,” she said gruffly. “Now get on.”
“Aven,” he said back, holding out his hand. She eyed him suspiciously for a moment but finally shook his hand. Strong grip. His thumb felt the smooth back of her hand, but her palms told a different story—rough and callused. She worked with her hands.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said with possibly not enough sarcasm in his voice. He hoped he was maintaining an offended exterior, but the fact was that her astounding power and loveliness were making him more cooperative every minute.
He turned and willingly got on the horse. Damn, he was a fool.
This prince was not what she’d expected. This begged the question of what in fact she had expected, but try as she might, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Just, not this.
For one, he was rather light for an Akarian—his light hair and green eyes had caught her off guard in more ways than one. For another, he was a damn mage. Or at least he had the power—he hadn’t shown much ability so far and had made no attempt to stop her. She’d expected a showdown of some sort when he woke up, and she had not been looking forward to it. Air mages had spells that were far more deadly at far longer ranges than creature spells. It didn’t matter what she transformed herself into or what creature she summoned from the earth if her opponent struck her with lightning from a mile away. No one said magic was fair.
And yet, he’d done none of that. Perhaps he knew nothing about combat or was saving his skills for some special moment. Or maybe for some insane reason, he’d chosen not to use them. The only magic he seemed to use came in the form of a vague swirling wind with little purpose. Did he mean to scare her? To intimidate her? Was he trying to show off his power in some feeble way? What in the world did he mean to accomplish by it? She had no idea, but it was more pitiful than threatening.
Add to that his playful insistence on polite and proper introductions, and well, he was a strange one to say the least. If she’d been tackled, transformed, scooped up, and ditched naked in a field, she’d be a bit more pissed off. Perhaps she just wasn’t as well-bred as an Akarian royal. Alth
ough Anara knew her experiences with her own Kavanar royals had done nothing to suggest that royal breeding produced politeness.
His request for her name had caught her unprepared, and the fake name she’d given him was a little pathetic. But her real name had seemed too personal. And weren’t kidnappers supposed to hide their identities? A good kidnapper would probably have clubbed him and refused to give him a name, though.
She rode Cora bareback. She’d have to get a saddle somewhere, but that was cheaper than a whole horse. Luring Cora away made her worry a lot less that she’d run out of coin. Kres followed beside her, the prince on his back. She held the reins of both horses, although she didn’t need to. Neither horse was being led by its rider, but she wanted her control to be clear. She’d had enough escape attempts for one morning.
But she’d gotten him out of Estun and onto a horse. It was good start to say the least.
They certainly couldn’t go back past the town she’d rescued Cora from, so they rode east through the forest at a quick walk. They probably wouldn’t make it to the next town that night, and perhaps that was for the best. Handling him one-on-one was simpler than with a bunch of other folk about. She could ease into this kidnapping thing.
Occasionally, he tried to make conversation.
“Where are we headed?” he asked.
“East,” she said, refusing any more than that.
“Well, I know that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
He groaned and tried again, but she said nothing more.
They rode for another few hours with smatterings of conversation and short breaks. She gave him some food and water once and let him relieve himself. He did not try to run again, so perhaps her show of power with the brambles had been effective. An hour before dark, she finally stopped them. It was time to make camp.
The woman—Mara—ordered him to pick up branches for a fire, and he did as he was told. On a practical level, it would be dark soon, and he didn’t want to be cold, either. He wasn’t above manual labor. As long as she wasn’t planning to burn him along with the sticks, he didn’t really mind. He felt fairly certain she hadn’t gone to all this trouble just to barbeque him now. In spite of all of his failed attempts at conversation through the day, he was growing confident that she was taking him somewhere. The questions now were where, how far away, and why.
