Knight, Heir, Prince

by Morgan Rice

  Stone spread across the flower like frost over a window, but it wasn’t just on the surface. A second after it had begun, it was over, and her mother held one of the stone flowers Ceres had seen lower on the island.

  “Did you feel it?” Lycine asked.

  Ceres nodded. “But how did you do it?”

  “Feel again.” She plucked another flower, and this time it was impossibly slow as she turned it to something with marble petals and a granite stem. Ceres tried to track the movement of the power within her, and it was as though her own moved in response, trying to copy it.

  “Good,” Lycine said. “Your blood knows. Now you try.”

  She passed a flower to Ceres. Ceres reached down, concentrating as she tried to grasp the power within her and push it into the form she’d felt her mother’s take.

  The flower exploded.

  “Well,” Lycine said with a laugh, “that was unexpected.”

  It was so different from the way the mother she’d grown up with would have reacted. She’d beaten Ceres for the least failure. Lycine just passed her another flower.

  “Relax,” she said. “You already know how it should feel. Take that feeling. Imagine it. Make it real.”

  Ceres tried to do it, thinking about what she’d felt when her mother had transformed her flower. She took the feeling and filled it with power the way her father might have filled a mold at the forge with iron.

  “Open your eyes, Ceres,” Lycine said.

  Ceres hadn’t even realized that she’d closed them until her mother said the words. She forced herself to look, even though right then she was afraid to. Once she’d looked, she stared, because she could barely believe it. She held a single, perfectly formed, petrified bloom, transformed into something like basalt by her power.

  “I did that?” Ceres asked. Even with everything else she could do, it still seemed nearly impossible.

  “You did,” her mother said, and Ceres could hear the pride there. “Now we just need to get you to do it without your eyes closed.”

  That took longer, and a lot more flowers. Yet Ceres found herself enjoying the practice. More than that, every time her mother smiled at her efforts, Ceres felt a burst of love expanding through her. Even as the minutes spilled into hours, she kept going.

  “Yes,” her mother said at last, “that’s perfect.”

  It was more than that; it was easy. Easy to reach out and pull power from inside her. Easy to channel it. Easy to leave behind a perfectly preserved stone flower. It was only as the rush of doing it faded that Ceres realized just how tired she was.

  “It’s all right,” her mother said, taking her hand. “Your power takes energy and effort. Even the strongest of us could only do so much at once.” She smiled. “But your power knows what it is for now. It will rise up when someone threatens you, or when you summon it to you. It will do more, too.”

  Ceres sensed a flicker of power from her mother, and she could see the full potential of her power. She saw the stone buildings and gardens in a new light, as things that had been built with that power, crafted in ways no human could understand. She felt full, somehow. Complete.

  Some of the happiness seemed to fade from her mother’s expression. Ceres heard her sigh.

  “What is it?” Ceres asked.

  “I just wish that we had more time together,” Lycine said. “I would love to walk you through the towers here and tell you the history of my people. I would love to hear all about this Thanos you loved so much, and show you the gardens where the sun has never touched the trees.”

  “Then do it,” Ceres said. She felt as though she might have stayed there forever. “Show me all of it. Tell me about the past. Tell me about my father, and what happened when I was born.”

  Her mother shook her head though.

  “That is one thing you aren’t ready for yet. As for time, I told you before that destiny can be a prison, darling, and you have a bigger destiny than most.”

  “I’ve seen flashes of it,” Ceres admitted, thinking of the dreams that had come to her again and again on the boat.”

  “Then you know why we can’t stay here and be a family, no matter how much either of us might wish it,” her mother said. “Although maybe the future holds time for that. That and more.”

  “First, though, I have to go back, don’t I?” Ceres said.

  Her mother nodded.

  “You do,” she said. “You must return, Ceres. Return and free Delos from the Empire, as you were always meant to do.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was hard for Stephania to believe that she’d already been married to Thanos for six weeks. Yet with the feast of the Blood Moon here, that was how long it had been. Six weeks of bliss, every one as wonderful as she could have hoped for.

  “You look amazing,” she said, looking over at Thanos in the rooms they now shared in the castle. He was a vision in deep red silk, set off with red gold and rubies. She could hardly believe that he was hers, some days. “Red suits you.”

  “It makes me look as though I’m covered in blood,” Thanos replied.

  “Which is rather the point, given that it’s the Blood Moon,” Stephania pointed out. She leaned in to kiss him. She liked being able to do that when she wanted. If there were more time, she might have taken the moment to do a lot more.

  “It hardly matters what I wear though,” Thanos said. “There’s no one in the room who will be looking at me when you’re there beside me.”

  Perhaps another man could have put the compliment more elegantly, but there was something about the earnest way Thanos said it that meant more to Stephania than all the perfectly judged poems in the world.

  Besides, she had worked rather hard on picking out the most beautiful dress in Delos. It shimmered in shades of red like a flame wrapped around her. She’d even bribed the dressmaker to ensure that the original, destined for a minor noblewoman lower in the city, was irretrievably delayed.

  Stephania offered her arm, and Thanos took it, escorting her down toward the great feast hall where they’d had their wedding. Was it already six weeks that they’d been married? Six weeks of more bliss than Stephania could have believed, living together in apartments set aside for them by the queen within the castle. There were even rumors that the king was planning to bestow a new estate on Thanos, a little way from the city. For six weeks, they’d been the most watched couple in the city, lauded wherever they went. Stephania had enjoyed that.

  “Do remember not to punch Lucious when you see him tonight,” Stephania said.

  “I’ve managed to keep from doing it so far,” Thanos replied. “Don’t worry.”

  Stephania did worry, though. She didn’t want to risk losing Thanos now that she had him as her husband. She didn’t want to find him executed for attacking the heir to the throne, and not just because of the position it would put her in. She might have set out to acquire him for a husband for the prestige it would bring, but now… now she was surprised to find that she loved him.

  “Prince Thanos and his wife, Lady Stephania!” the herald at the door announced, and Stephania smiled, leaning her head against Thanos’s shoulder. She always loved hearing that.

  She looked around the room. For their wedding, it had been arranged in white, but now it shone in red and black. The wine in the glasses was a thick blood red, the feast tables had meat left just on the edge of bloody, and every noble in the place wore the colors of the shifting moon.

  Stephania walked on Thanos’s arm, parsing the relationships there, keeping track of the latest intrigues even as she simply enjoyed being seen. Was that Lady Christina, slipping off into the shadows to talk to a merchant prince from the Far Islands? Was Isolde’s daughter wearing fewer jewels than usual?

  Of course, she saw Lucious drinking too much, eating too much, and eyeing the women. Briefly, Stephania thought his eyes flickered to hers, his look one that would have guaranteed a fight if Thanos had seen it. It was a pity, really, that her attempt to poison him at th
e wedding feast had gone so badly. If Thanos hadn’t made him so angry that he’d crushed his wine glass, then Lucious would have gone to sleep that night and not woken. It would have been done.

  Since then, there had been no opportunity to deal with him. The usual people she might have employed were being more cautious now that the one she’d used for Thanos had gone missing, and the trick with killing was never the act of it; it was always doing it in such a way that people didn’t suspect. There had simply never been a chance to get close to Lucious without it being obvious.

  “Ah, Prince Thanos,” a white-whiskered man said, approaching them both, “Lady Stephania. You make such a wonderful couple!”

  Stephania searched her memory for the man, coming up with the answer effortlessly. “General Haven, you’re too kind. How is your wife doing?”

  “Happy enough to spend my gold on new necklaces. I take it you’ll be keeping Prince Thanos from the new expedition to Haylon?”

  “There’s a new expedition?” Thanos said. Stephania could hear the curiosity there. It was obviously the first her husband had heard of it.

  “Heading out tomorrow,” General Haven said. “I tried to persuade his majesty to let me head this one, but he decided on Olliant instead.”

  Probably because the man was capable of organizing something more than a long-winded speech. Stephania had heard that Haven had once been a competent general, but now he hung onto his role only through his connections.

  “Well,” Stephania said, “I’m sure your wife will be happy to have you home. I know I’m glad that Thanos isn’t going anywhere.”

  The old man drifted away, and Stephania turned to Thanos.

  “We should go and mingle,” Stephania said. “I should go and hear all the gossip the women of the court have to tell, and tell them how glorious their choices of dress are. You should go and pay your respects to the king. People have been muttering about how little you’ve been there for formal audiences lately.”

  “I’ve just been busy,” Thanos said. “Enjoying married life, for a start.”

  Stephania knew her husband better than that. She still laughed though. “I’ve been enjoying it too, but you know you can’t afford to offend the king. Think of it as a game, Thanos. A big game, where the prize is getting to live happily, and where you don’t get a choice if you play.”

  “Is that what you do?” Thanos asked.

  Stephania spread her hands. “Why do you think I’m about to go and tell General Haven’s wife how lovely her new necklace is?” She kissed his cheek. “Please, Thanos. I love how honest you are, but whatever happened when you spoke to the king, you can’t get on his bad side.”

  “I’ll try,” Thanos said, heading off in the direction of the king and queen.

  Stephania watched him go. She loved watching him. Even as she started making her way through the room, she kept glancing back to keep an eye on where Thanos had gotten to. She’d never thought that she would be like this, giddy as a milkmaid swooning over him. But that was love, and Stephania wasn’t going to allow anything to jeopardize things.

  “Do we have any information on the boy, Sartes, yet?” Stephania asked one of her handmaids in a whisper. She made sure that none of them ever knew all of her affairs, but she also made sure that she picked clever girls, drawn up from the lower end of the acceptable classes. Girls who would owe her everything, in other words.

  “We know that after his escape from the army, he joined up with the rebellion,” the handmaid said. “I believe I know which group, my lady.”

  “Well done,” Stephania said, with a brief touch of her hand bestowed like a blessing. “Go to Captain Var and tell him that I want the boy in chains.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The girl hurried off. Captain Var was a necessary evil. The mercenary was a lecher and a torturer, but curiously, he was surprisingly loyal, and he was good at the… specialized jobs Stephania had him perform. Probably it helped that Stephania was in a position to outbid everyone else for his services. At least one would-be rival had found herself disappearing into the slave pits thanks to the good captain’s graces.

  Stephania continued her smiling way around the feast, sampling a bite of food here, a sip of wine there as she moved from acquaintance to rival to would-be friend, never stopping long in one place, never letting her eyes stray from Thanos for long.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t be making such an issue of Ceres’s younger brother. If he hadn’t already died in one of the rebellion’s raids, he almost certainly would soon. Even if he lived, did it really matter?

  It did. Just the thought of it was enough to make Stephania dig her nails into her palms, bringing with it a sharp stab of pain. The boy was no threat in himself. Stephania bore him no ill will, but just the fact that he existed was a connection to the memory of Ceres. Stephania could not allow her to intrude on her marriage. Not in life, and not in death. No, she had to be certain, whatever it took.

  Stephania looked over to Thanos again. He seemed to be done with the king, and she wanted to dance with him now. She wanted to draw him close to her and feel the strength of him pressed up against her. She wanted to remind all those there that she had gained the greatest prize worth taking. Above all, she wanted to fill his thoughts so full of her that there could never be any room for Ceres ever again.

  She started to make her way over toward him, but she only got a little of the way there before she started to feel so sick that her head swam. Had she been poisoned? No, she couldn’t have been. She was always careful about what she ate and who she took it from. She consumed antidotes every morning, and she knew better than anyone what to taste and smell for.

  Even so, she found herself stumbling in the direction of the courtyard. One of her maids helped her, and Stephania found herself leaning on the girl more than she would have liked. The night air was cool, but it didn’t really help.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” the maid asked as they got out there.

  Stephania wanted to snap that of course she wasn’t, but her body chose that moment to betray her and she vomited. It tasted foul, but Stephania was mostly just glad that she’d gotten out of the hall before anyone saw. Her maid held her hair back.

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” Stephania said. “It can’t be poison. It can’t.”

  “My lady,” the maid said, “is it… is it possible that you’re pregnant?”

  Stephania wanted to tell the girl not to be stupid, but it fit, didn’t it? Could she be? Was it possible? She stood there in shock, trying to think as she cleaned herself up with her maid’s help. It had never occurred to her that she might be pregnant. It had just seemed so much more obvious in her world that she might have been attacked by some enemy.

  “Tell no one about this,” Stephania said. “Go back to the feast. If anyone asks you where I am, say that I felt unwell and returned to my rooms. Fail and I’ll have you skinned, do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lady,” the girl said, looking frightened.

  Stephania offset that with a hug. “Thank you. I should have thought of it myself.”

  She hurried through the castle, but even so, it took her a while to find the chambers of the royal apothecary. In general, if Stephania needed a potion or a poultice, she was more than capable of putting it together herself. Yet this wasn’t something she kept the materials for, and she didn’t want to waste her time with the toads and rabbits of so-called wise women.

  Of course, when Stephania got there, the door was locked, the apothecary away. Thankfully, the lock was a poor one, easy to force open even though Stephania rarely stooped to such things for herself.

  She made her way inside, looking through the jars of powders and herbs. It was dangerous, working with someone else’s stocks, but Stephania thought that she could recognize what she needed. There were enough ladies of the court having enough affairs to need to know these things, and it seemed the apothecary kept vials made up.

  Stephania found one and
used it, ignoring the embarrassment of doing so in the middle of the place. She stared at the clear solution with impatience, waiting to see what would happen next.

  When it slowly shifted to blue, Stephania felt a rush of feelings spreading through her. Shock, because she’d never expected this. Apprehension for all that might happen next. Above all, though, there was joy. Joy for one simple fact:

  She was having Thanos’s child.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The morning after the feast, Thanos rose quietly and sneaked his way through the rooms he shared with Stephania. He’d learned to be careful after she’d followed him to hunt Lucious.

  “Let her sleep,” Thanos said to one of Stephania’s maids as he passed. “I’m just going down to the training ground ahead of the Killings later, and Stephania looked a little tired after the feast last night.”

  “Yes, Prince Thanos,” the maid said.

  Thanos set off in the direction of the training grounds, because that was a believable place for him to go this early. He needn’t have worried. The castle was quiet. Servants bustled about their work, but the nobles who might have been in a position to question him were all still in bed. After the feast last night, it was exactly what Thanos had been hoping for.

  Because of what he’d heard last night. What General Haven had said was just the start. With the wine flowing and so many nobles gathered in one place, Stephania hadn’t been the only one listening to gossip. The only difference was that Thanos had been listening with a point, taking in anything that might help the rebels.

  He hurried along the corridors of the castle, heading for the offices of the royal chamberlain. They had probably been grand once, but were now piled so high with records and missives that the only effect was of chaos. There was a minor official sitting at a table there, but no sign of the man himself. He was probably sleeping off the effects of the feast like everyone else.

  “Can I help you, Prince Thanos?” the official asked.