Linnet and the Prince

by Alydia Rackham

  The man with the stripe handed his shield and spear to his squire—or one who acted as his squire—reached up and pulled off his helmet. His hair was black; he had a large nose, and dark, cold eyes.

  “You are very brave, Queen Ealasaid,” the man decided, his voice deep, his accent strange. “Braver than your king.”

  “Who are you?” my mother demanded. “And what gives you the right to march on these lands?”

  The man regarded her.

  “I am Commander Hashim,” he said, in the universal language known as the Common Tongue. He lifted his chin. “And the Badi own these lands as of this morning, when we killed your husband and all his men.”

  A suppressed cry ran through the crowd like a needle through flesh. Commander Hashim smirked. The shining helmed head of the man next to him turned to him. Commander Hashim cleared his throat, and raised his eyebrows at my mother.

  “Woman, how many people live in this…village?” He cast a narrow glance around at the lawn and the houses before regarding her again. My mother did not answer.

  “Speak!” Hashim barked. “Or the chance you have to spare your people may be lost with our patience.”

  “About a thousand,” my mother replied, her voice flat.

  “And how many in the hills beyond?”

  My mother hesitated again, but the spears of the Badi rattled. She took a breath.

  “Perhaps thirty thousand, according to the census five years ago.”

  Hashim glanced at the one next to him. The shining head nodded. Hashim sighed and his jaw tightened, but he turned back to my mother.

  “Prince Rajak is inconvenienced by the effort of bloodshed, as duties back home call his attention. Therefore, he wishes to offer you a bargain.”

  “Then let me hear it from him,” my mother shot back. “Unless the famous prince is deaf and dumb.”

  A shiver traveled through my people. And a murmur, like a covered hornet’s nest, disturbed the quiet of the Badi. The one beside Hashim raised his hands and lifted the helmet off his head.

  His hair was like a raven, mussed and wild. He had a young, narrow, handsome face, and a dignified nose. He had a scar on his right cheekbone, and a stern, frowning mouth. But the look he gave my mother with those blazing obsidian eyes ought to have caught her on fire.

  He handed his helmet to Hashim, kicked his leg over the back of his horse and slid to the ground. He landed soundlessly, and stepped toward my mother. Our men backed away—it was as if they could not help but shrink from him. I swallowed hard. Rajak was a good head taller than any of the men in my town, and power radiated from him like heat from the sun. His look fastened on my mother. He stopped before her, and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “I am Prince Rajak,” he said quietly, with perfect diction. “And you will address me with respect or be flogged before your people.”

  My mother did not answer. I knew he would do it—or at least he would try. My mother was a second sister, as I was. She could fight just as well as I could, if not better. But if she decided to fight, and the Badi retaliated…

  My mother stayed still. I clenched my teeth. Prince Rajak cast his gaze over the crowd. They cringed. Then, he returned his attention to my mother.

  “My proposal is this,” he said, his voice still soft. “My forces will now occupy this land, claiming it in the name of my father, King Niro. However, I will not slaughter its inhabitants on one condition.” His eyes searched past my mother, and found the royal table. And his gaze fell upon my sister. “You will give me a princess for a wife.”

  Aeleth’s hands locked on my elbow so hard I thought she would break my bones.

  “In this way,” Rajak went on. “My people will share a bond with yours, and be less inclined to destroy you. In the same fashion, you shall be less inclined to defy my father, as I will have hold of your heart. Consider my offer carefully, as it will not be extended again.”

  “Impossible,” my mother protested. “I cannot and will not—”

  “This is my condition,” Rajak’s voice rose, and he stepped back toward his horse. “Not a one of you will live should it be broken.” He mounted his horse again, took up the reins, and looked down his nose at my mother. “Believe me; my father would never be so generous.” He nodded at Hashim, then turned his animal and pressed back through his army, until I could not see him. Hashim now spoke to my mother.

  “You have half of an hour of privacy in which to discuss my prince’s proposal.”

  “Surely you must give us more time than—” my mother tried.

  “Oh, of course,” Hashim’s tone was caustic. “So that you can spirit her away and poison the wells for us.” He shook his head. “Woman, you are fortunate to be alive at this moment. Now go.” He waved toward the royal house. “You now have less than half of an hour. And I advise you not to wait that long. The prince has even less patience than I do.”

  Chapter Two

  “This is not happening—it isn’t!” my sister gasped, pacing up and down on the dais in the grand hall, tears streaming down her face. She pulled off her crown and threw it on the table. It clattered on the hard surface. She took fistfuls of her hair, screwed her eyes shut and let out a sharp, rending scream. A scream I would have echoed if I had not been frozen to the floor, my arms wrapped hard around my chest.

  “Aeleth, calm down,” my mother, who stood in the center of the hall, pressed her fingertips to her lips as she gazed at the floor.

  “Calm down?” Aeleth cried, hysterical. “Father has just been murdered not ten miles away, the Badi have killed everyone in the valley, and now that monster says he wants me for his wife?”She shook her head hard. “No, no, I cannot bear it.” She hugged herself as tightly as I was. “No, no, no. I won’t do it. I won’t.”

  “They will slaughter all of us if you don’t, Aeleth,” my mother answered, still unmoving and quiet.

  “I can’t!” Aeleth screamed. “I love William!”

  Mother looked at her. Aeleth turned pale and swallowed, but she nodded.

  “I do. I cannot help it.” Her lip trembled. She spoke through her teeth. “And I will not marry the savage who killed my father. I would rather be dead.”

  “You will be,” Mother snapped, striding toward her. “Don’t you understand? All of us will be. He will drive us all into this mead hall and burn it to the ground—will your love for that peasant comfort you then?”

  Aeleth’s face twisted and more tears fell.

  “Mumma—”

  Mother slapped her across the face. The sound cracked through the room. I jumped. Aeleth recoiled, her hand flying to her cheek.

  “This is the time you must remember who you are,” Mother hissed. “The blood of thousands of people will be on your hands if that creature is not given what he demands. It is your duty to think of your people first—how dare you refuse and send them all to their graves?”

  My sister lifted her shining eyes to my mother—wide, terrified, reasonless eyes. My jaw clenched. Aeleth could not do this. I knew she could be persuaded by mother to go, but if she did, she would burn and wither in that forsaken desert. Just leaving our home with the Badi army would destroy her spirit. She loved this place too much. She loved mother too much to be parted from her.

  And she would not be strong enough to withstand Rajak’s beatings.

  “I will go.”

  The words fell out of my mouth. As soon as I heard them in the open air, my eyes widened and my stomach turned.

  My mother looked at me. And what I saw in her eyes made me colder than anything yet.

  “Linnet, no—” Aeleth yelped, but my mother did not hear her. She was listening to me. I drew myself up.

  “He said ‘a princess.’ He didn’t say which one,” I reminded them. “If I go, his condition will be met and he will reach the goal he wanted. Besides,” My voice quieted as I gazed into Aeleth’s eyes. “I have no prospects. Aeleth can stay here and marry William.” I swallowed. “And I will go with the Badi
.”

  My mother gazed at me one more moment, as if seeing straight through me. Then, she swept to me, grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the hallway. I stumbled and almost fell, then fought to keep up with her long strides.

  “Linnet!” Aeleth cried, but my mother ignored her. She dragged me into her chamber and shut the door behind her. We plunged into darkness. All I could hear was my own gasping. The next moment, Mother lit a lamp, and her hard face was illuminated.

  “I have to confess it: I was hoping you would say that, Linnet,” Mother said, watching the flame as she set the lamp down on her vanity. I blinked.

  “What?”

  Mother turned to me. Her blue eyes bore into mine.

  “You know as well as I do that Aeleth could not survive the harshness of the desert, or the Badi’s uncivilized culture, nor Rajak’s cruelty. But I believe you can, at least for a time.” She stepped toward me and took hold of my hands. She lowered her head. “And that is why I believe you can do something else for us.”

  I looked at her sideways. She almost smiled, and squeezed my fingers.

  “All your life, as all the younger sisters of this kingdom before you, you’ve been trained to protect the eldest princess. And you have done very well—you have always made me proud when you displayed your talent with a sword and bow, and when you ride. You are made of burlap where your sister is made of silk.” She glanced at the window. My heartbeat accelerated. She turned back to me, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Linnet,” she said. “You must go to the court with the Badi prince. You must make him trust you.” Her voice lowered to a breath. “And then you must kill him.”

  I twitched.

  “I have never killed anyone before!” I choked. My mother clamped down on my hands.

  “But you have stopped one step before it,” she reminded me, holding me firm. “I have seen you when you spar with the guards. You would be deadly if the occasion arose. And that occasion is here.”

  “But they will kill me if I kill him,” I gritted, feeling like ice. Mother was already shaking her head.

  “It will take you two weeks to get out of the mountains, cross the plains and then arrive at Nazre. After that, you will have two months to gain Rajak’s trust and make him vulnerable to you.”

  “But how could I possibly—”

  “It does not matter how!” Mother grasped my shoulders. “It matters that you do. Your life, my life, your sister’s life and the lives of all of your people—and the peoples who have opposed the Badi—all rest on this!” She glanced at the window again. “Do you recall what the runner said about a key?”

  I struggled to remember.

  “Something…Something like Rajak is steps away from finding it?”

  “Yes,” Mother nodded. “He is close to finding the key to an ancient Badi chamber—one that has been spoken of in their legends for thousands of years. When you were a baby, a trader once brought us the riddle the Badi discovered, in exchange for our feeding and clothing him.”

  “What was the riddle?” I whispered. Once more, my mother looked at the window before speaking.

  “First son of a third son

  After three corners fall

  From death shall rise the Shining One

  Behind the prison wall,” she recited. “You see? Rajak’s father, Niro, murdered his two eldest brothers and threw them in the street. Rajak is Niro’s firstborn. And the corners have long been believed to be the other three kingdoms, besides the kingdom of the Badi. The plains of Seshem have now fallen, and our realm as well. And Niro is on his way to rout the Northern Marshes.” My mother gave me a grave look. “If Rajak finds this hidden chamber, said to be hidden deep in Nazre, he will find the Badi’s greatest king—and bring him back from the dead.”

  I stared at her, disbelieving. But I could see that my mother had moved on, and her mind was working on the next step of her plan.

  “The Badi have a festival in the middle of summer called the Water Gathering, where their huge pools of hot springs turn cold, and they bathe like animals for a week. On the eve of that first feast, you will kill him. And I will send my brothers after you.”

  “Your brothers?” I frowned. My hammering pulse was starting to hurt within my throat and neck. Mother nodded, then let go of me to dig in her jewelry box.

  “Yes. That is what I call them—they are known as the Bràithrean. A group of men from my mountain town, where I grew up. They are the most silent and deadly assassins in the world. After you kill Rajak, they will infiltrate the caverns and rescue you. Then, our highland armies will be mustered, and we will descend on Nazre and take it. Watch for my brothers’ sign—they use falcons to send messages.”

  I nodded, my mind reeling. My mouth had gone dry, and my muscles felt like water.

  At last, my mother found what she had been looking for. She pulled out a polished, black, wooden stick about as wide as two of my fingers and half as long as my hand. It had jewels imbedded in it, and looked like a piece of finery that ought to be clipped to the hair.

  Then, my mother flicked her wrist. And a gleaming blade unfolded from the side of the stick and snapped into position. My throat closed.

  “Keep this with you,” she said, folding it back up and pressing it into my hand. “It is easy to conceal, and looks feminine, so those barbaric men will leave it alone. Hide it under your pillow. Your best chance to kill Rajak will be if he comes to your bedchamber alone. Try to persuade him to do this the eve of the festival.” My mother arched her eyebrow. “Initially, he will come to your chamber every night with two guards, who will stand at the foot of your bed. At least, that is what I have heard.”

  I almost fainted. And I had to swallow bile to keep from retching. Mother shook me.

  “Above all,” she warned, eyes bright. “Keep your wits about you. Don’t be muddled by the strangeness of the heat, their barbarism or their crudeness. Badi are ruthless, but they are not smart. Keep your eyes and ears open, bide your time, and do what you must. We are all counting on you.” She took my chin in her hand and gave me a long look. “You will do well, my daughter. And I will make you safe in the end.”

  I could not answer even if I had been given the chance. Mother took the blade from me and tucked it down in my wrap-around belt, then grasped my hand and pulled me out of her room. I felt sick and lightheaded as we passed down the corridor and back into the main hall. As soon as the door opened, Aeleth flew into my arms. She almost knocked me over.

  “Linnet, don’t do this,” she wept into my hair, her arms tight around my neck. “Oh, please, don’t—I won’t be able to live with myself if you go!”

  I wrapped her up tight.

  “I can do this, Aeleth. I’ll be fine. I promise.” I pushed her away, and forcing myself to smile at her brought firmness back to my legs and spine. “Marry William. I will send word to you as soon as I can.”

  “No,” she sobbed, shaking her head. But Mother took hold of me again, and drew me away from her. We were but five feet from the entrance when she let go of me, and she pulled the huge door open.

  “Linnet, no!”

  The door creaked, the cool air hit us, and we stepped out to face the Badi and their prince.

  And it was night.

  LLL

  Torches lit the front lawn with an eerie, orange light, held in Badi hands. My people had drifted far away from the Badi army, huddling in doorways or peering through windows. It was very quiet, except for the breathing and occasional stamping of the horses. I glanced over at our feast table. The food lay uneaten.

  A tall horse shouldered to the front of the Badi line, its harness softly jingling. Prince Rajak, no longer wearing his helmet and half lit by the flames, cast his glance over my mother and me. Finally, he addressed my mother.

  “Have you made your decision?” he asked.

  “I have,” Mother said. “Linnet has agreed to marry you.”

  He frowned. And then, for the first time, he looked at me.
/>   I had never seen blacker eyes. Eyes like chips of obsidian glittering in the firelight.

  “I want the eldest—the one with the golden hair,” he said, looking back to my mother. I took a deep breath.

  “You cannot have her,” I said.

  His attention flew back to me. His frown deepened, but he heard me.

  “You did not specify in your agreement as to which princess you required—you said ‘a princess,’” I reminded him, my hands closing into fists. “I am King Peliar’s second-born daughter, and a princess by right. Besides which, my sister is betrothed to William the Tanner, and her honor would be ruined if she were to recant.”

  Rajak’s jaw clenched and his mouth tightened. He glanced back at my mother, then over at Commander Hashim.

  “Very well,” he said to my mother. “She will travel on horseback until we reach the wagons in the valley. Pack her wedding clothes.” He eyed me. I braced myself, and did not avert my gaze. He steered his horse back into his army again, and Hashim raised his arm and shouted to the men in another language. They began to move, to prepare. I could only stand there shivering.

  Wedding clothes? I did not know what these barbarians practiced, but among my people, an engagement lasted as long as it took for the wedding dress to be sewn.

  I swallowed. But for me? No. I had suddenly run out of time.

  Chapter Three

  That next hour passed in a haze. I remember holding tight to my mother during one last embrace. I remember Aeleth’s despairing cries as she stood in the doorway. I remember my mother warning one of the savages to be careful with my single trunk of belongings as they loaded it onto a cart. I remember climbing up on a tall horse, and being led to the front of the line. A soldier tied my horse to Commander Hashim’s saddle. And then, in the middle of the night, the Badi took me from Hilrigard.

  I could not see where we were riding, but I recognized the path—it led out of the town and down into the valley, toward the river.

  It was cold. The wind whipped through the narrow pass, rustling the ferns and underbrush, and cutting through my clothes. We had left in a great enough hurry that I had not thought to bring a coat. I could not feel anything, anyway.