As he neared the dais, Prince Aredel removed his helm to reveal long black hair and keen brown eyes in an olive-toned face. He wore a smile that was neither haughty nor self-assured, but amused. A secret sparkled in his eye. He was more handsome than any reports had said. Indeed, he was a beautiful man; fierce and strong, but not the brute Bareene had expected to find. The queen held her head high as the Blood Prince inclined his own. He stepped onto the dais and whirled to face the room as his warriors flanked him just below the raised platform.
“Amantier is now a province of High Emperor Gyath’s mighty Empire. You are blessed by Holy J’Aka to enjoy this great honor. May we live in peace ever after.” He turned to Queen Bareene and spoke over the din of distressed voices behind him. “You will take me to your husband now.”
“He is almost dead,” said Bareene in honeyed tones. “Surely it is best to let him die in peace and ignorance.”
“I will view the face of my dying foe. Lead on.”
Bristling, she hoisted her chin and led the Blood Prince from the hall and its denizens. A glance back at the door revealed drooped heads and the flash of burning eyes. She tasted fear and defeat in the air like a heady wine. Smiling, she swept from the hall.
As she and Prince Aredel paraded down the corridor, two Blood Knights flanked their crown prince. The silence rang in Bareene’s ears.
“How does your lord father fare, Holy Prince?”
“Better than your son’s own, I should think,” said the prince.
“I do long to meet him.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Bareene halted and turned to the Blood Prince. “I had understood that word of my beauty intrigued your father, and he is eager to meet me.” She lowered her eyes and smiled, then glanced up.
Prince Aredel arched a dark eyebrow. “His Imperial Majesty is intrigued by a new beauty every day, and I would venture to say you’re not as young as some he favors. Best not to count on your legend too much, Lady Queen. Age can be telling, as can be treachery.” He advanced down the corridor.
How dare he? Blood ran hot in Bareene’s veins. She inhaled several times, drew back her shoulders, and traipsed after the prince.
They reached King Jetekesh’s chamber. As Bareene opened the door, she braced against the stench of death. But while the shrouded chamber reeked of stale sweat and corruption, the figure in the bed still tossed in his fever. Just die and have done with your misery!
Prince Aredel slipped into the chamber, silent even in his heavy armor. “Leave me.”
Bareene stiffened. “I won’t leave you alone with my dying husband.”
The Blood Prince turned a wry smile on her. “No pretense here and now. For whom do you perform? None here, surely. Leave and seek one of your lusty young lovers. No doubt any will be eager to comfort you.” His dark eyes flicked behind her. “Shevek, attend me. Ledonn, guard the door.”
One of the armored men moved past Bareene without a glance her way.
Bareene planted her feet. “I demand to know what you intend to do with the king.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. His armor glistened like slick blood in the candlelight. “That is not your concern.” He neared the bed. “Traveria, my lady? A brutal poison indeed. You’ve administered exceedingly small doses over a great length of time, I presume.”
Bareene scoffed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The Blood Prince glanced at her. “Ledonn, remove her from my presence. I find her repulsive.”
Hands seized Bareene’s arms from behind and dragged her through the doorway. “Unhand me! I won’t leave my husband to be murdered by this demon! He won’t use the king’s blood for his evil rites!”
The door shut in her face.
Ledonn unsheathed his sword. It gleamed in the torchlight. “Go, Queen. Before he uses your blood to bathe in.” A wicked smile curled at the corners of the warrior’s lips.
Bareene backed away. Her knees trembled. “You will not touch me again!”
He barked a laugh. “You are now a subject under KryTeer. A lowly queen. I outrank you, Majesty. Show more respect to a Holy Warrior of KryTeer or I may cut out your tongue.”
Throwing her chin into the air, she gathered her skirts and stormed down the hallway. They were mad! Vile! She’d not stand for this once she became empress. And she would, no matter what the Blood Prince thought. She would charm Emperor Gyath and become his next wife. Her beauty was second to none.
“Your Majesty!” A soldier ran up the corridor toward her.
“What is it?”
The soldier bowed. “My queen! It’s your son. He’s been abducted!”
7
In Hiding
Entering the palace grounds and sneaking into the dungeon had been the easy part. Stealing horses and riding past the palace guards was little harder. But tearing through the streets of Kavacos was altogether reckless.
Where before there had been the steady procession of nobles pouring through the palace gates to attend the queen’s ball, now the streets flowed red with Blood Knights. KryTeer had reached Kavacos after all, and the soldiers of Amantier had already surrendered. Houses sat dark, silent.
Yeshton’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the reins of his horse. Let KryTeer invade. They would never get their hands on his mistress. She was all that remained of his oath to Duke Lunorr.
Lady Rille rode in front, with the storyteller behind her on the same horse. Yeshton held the rear, Prince Jetekesh riding with him to keep the boy’s protector—in the center on his own steed—from doing anything desperate. But now that the protector had seen the bloodred armor of the enemy, he rode as hard as anyone.
Hooves thundered behind them. Arrows whistled past Yeshton’s head as he urged his mount faster along the wending roads of the old city.
He could only pray Lady Rille had a plan to slip past the front gates.
The royal protector—Tifen wasn’t it?—craned his neck. “I can get the gates open.”
Yeshton nodded. “One wrong move and I’ll slit your prince’s throat.”
Rille’s voice rose above the clatter of hooves. “Don’t interfere, Tifen! The gates will be open!”
They rode faster. Faster. And there, ahead, the gates of Kavacos began to open.
Yeshton felt the prince’s tears against his hands. The trembling of his shoulders. At least he wasn’t loud, and he didn’t struggle.
They ducked beneath the rising portcullis and charged out into the night. The Blood Knights stopped at the gates. Arrows ceased. The little company galloped on until the break of dawn. Ahead, a tavern appeared in the morning mist, and Rille slowed her frothing horse.
“We must rest.” She glanced back. “The storyteller is sick, and the horses are weary.”
“Not here,” said Yeshton. “A little farther up the road there’s a path that leads to a farm. I know the farmer. He’s a good man. He’ll offer us shelter.”
“Very well.”
They trotted past the tavern and eventually reached the familiar rutted path. The weary travelers plodded along the trail until the flanking trees gave way to reveal a hut and a large barn. Chickens scuttled aside for them, and a goose flew down from the barn with a hiss and a flurry of feathers. A cow lowed as a maid with auburn hair raced from the barn, milk pail in hand. She beamed up at Yeshton, who smiled grimly back.
“What-ho, Kyella?”
“Heigh-ho, stranger!” Her smile slipped as she studied the ragged group. When she saw Jinji slumped against Rille, she turned and ran to the hut. “Fa! Fa! Travelers! Yeshton brought them! Hurry, one’s sick!”
Farmer Drinel appeared in the doorway. He crossed the yard, as strong and large as when last Yeshton had taken shelter here some years ago. He nodded to Yeshton, then turned his attention at once to Rille and Jinji. “Let me help you down, my fellow. Easy now.”
Drinel dragged Jinji from the horse and wrapped the storyteller’s arm around his neck. “Kyella, boil some water and make an herb b
roth. He’s hot with fever.”
“We can’t stay long,” said Yeshton. He glanced back the way they’d come.
“Running from the Bloody Ones, I’ll wager. Fair enough, but this man is terribly ill. Move him too soon and it’ll be his death.”
“We’ll stay until he’s mended,” said Rille as she dropped from the horse’s back and smoothed her nightgown. “Or as long as you’ll have us in the meantime.”
Drinel inclined his head. “Any friend of Yeshton is welcome here as long as ye need. I owe him my life.”
Yeshton nudged the prince. “Wake up, Your Highness.”
Drinel and Kyella halted in their tracks. They glanced at each other, then up at Jetekesh propped against Yeshton’s chest. Tifen dismounted and stalked to the horse.
“Give him to me.”
“Not until I’m certain you won’t run straight back to Kavacos.”
The protector scowled. “Prince Jetekesh’s life is my only concern. I won’t lead him into the maw of a viper. I’m no fool.”
“He speaks truth,” said Jinji. He hoisted his head. “Yeshton, let Tifen…aid the prince.”
“Do it,” said Rille. She swayed on her feet. “I’m rather weary myself.”
Yeshton handed down the prince and flung himself from the saddle to reach his young mistress. “I’ll see you inside. Kyella, once you’ve tended to Jinji Wanderlust, will you draw a bath for Lady Rille?”
The maiden’s eyes had grown wide, but she nodded and trotted ahead into the house.
“Come inside, all of ye,” said Drinel. “Seems ye’ve got quite a tale to tell, and I’ve a hankering to hear it. But first, ye all need some rest, methinks.”
Hunger pains drove Yeshton from a heavy slumber as dusk settled in around the farm. The others slept on. Between mouthfuls of Kyella’s hearty cooking, the soldier recounted all he could of the past two weeks. Drinel listened until he finished.
“We saw the Blood Knights come this way, but not along the road,” said the farmer. “Strangest thing. They used boats along the river, and a thick fog shrouded them from sight until they were already passing. Thickest fog I’ve ever seen. Not natural, some say.”
“Boats. Makes sense why I didn’t glimpse them en route.” Yeshton ran a hand through his sandy hair. “I confess, I don’t see how there’s any fighting against this. If Queen Bareene has sold us out…”
“She wouldn’t do that.” Jetekesh’s voice.
Drinel and Kyella rose to bow to their prince as he approached.
“Your Highness, are you hungry?” asked the farmer.
Yeshton eyed the prince. He’d heard stories about the spoiled youth since the boy was small, and he didn’t care much for him. Now the poor exiled fool was heir to a lost kingdom, one he would never rule. He should be pitied above all else.
Jetekesh approached the rough-hewn table, Tifen shadowing him.
The prince sank onto the chair at the head of the table, which Drinel had relinquished to him. “Bring some wine for my supper.”
Kyella curtsied and scurried to the pantry. Yeshton resisted the urge to call her back. Let her serve the prince. Though his titles weren’t worth much, his blood was still royal.
Drinel heaped a plate with the best fare the humble farm could supply and set it before the prince. Kyella offered a mug of wine. Jetekesh ravaged his portions and downed a second mug before he settled back in his chair.
“Where are we?”
Drinel bowed his head. “My farm, Your Highness. It isn’t much, but we help supply the royal army of Kavacos.”
“So, we’re near the capital?”
“Yes, Your Highness. About ten miles south of the Royal City.”
“South.” Jetekesh frowned. He turned on Yeshton. “You. Who are you?”
“A knight of my father’s house,” answered the soft voice of Rille. She drifted into the room, groomed and clothed in one of Kyella’s old homespun dresses. Rille took a seat at the table and accepted a plate of food with a warm smile.
“A knight?” Jetekesh arched his eyebrow. “Yet, he didn’t know who I was in the dungeon?”
Rille scooped up a spoonful of potatoes. “It was dark, and you were facing away from him, cousin.” She turned to Yeshton. “How is the storyteller?”
“His fever is bad. That dungeon did him no kindness.”
Rille frowned at her plate. “He must improve. I have need of him.”
“What kind of need, my lady?” Yeshton knew the question was unwelcome. The girl had been tight-lipped all along their journey to Kavacos. Why should she answer now?
She plucked up her spoon and prodded her food. “I’m not certain. I only know he’s important to me. To us.” She looked up. Her eyes swept the room. “All of us.”
Kyella offered a plate of food to Tifen. He accepted it and remained standing beside Jetekesh’s chair as he discreetly shoveled food into his mouth. If Jetekesh noticed, he said nothing.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a halfwit?” asked Jetekesh, eyeing his cousin.
Rille’s mouth twisted. “Aren’t you supposed to be a clever boy?”
Jetekesh colored. “Look here—”
The girl held up her hand. “Not now, cousin. I think the storyteller is stirring.” She glanced toward the loft. “Kyella, will you check on him, please?”
As the maid climbed the ladder to the loft, Yeshton looked at his mistress. “Where will we go once Jinji is mended?”
“South. That’s all I know.”
“South?” Jetekesh shook his head. “We must head east to Willow Province. There we can muster a force of arms and take back Kavacos.”
Rille wrinkled her nose. “Have you no sense at all, cousin? Amantier is defeated. We’ve lost. Any force of arms won’t be enough to drive out KryTeer now.”
“So, we just surrender and abase ourselves before the dread empire?” Jetekesh scoffed. “I would sooner die—”
“Then do so. Here. Now. It will do as much good! Maybe more, for I won’t have to endure your stupidity a moment longer.” Rille stamped her foot under the table. “Be silent unless you can contribute rational thought to our plan.”
“Plan?” Jetekesh jumped to his feet, face flushed. “Go south. What sort of plan is that?” He slammed his fist against the table. “I won’t run away when my people need me. I won’t hide while Amantier suffers under the tyrant hand of Gyath the Gluttonous and the Bloody-handed Prince!”
He won’t run away from his dying father. The thought struck Yeshton like a sword. The boy was still young, and despite his flaws, he remained a devoted son and heir. But his wishes were foolhardy and impractical. Yeshton stood. “Be calm, Your Highness. This isn’t a decision we need to make right away. Until the storyteller is able to move, we can’t go anywhere.”
Jetekesh turned blazing eyes on him but said nothing. Huffing, he stormed across the room to the front door. “I need some air.” Tifen stayed on his heels. The door shut softly after him.
Rille heaved a sigh. “Just the reunion I would expect from her son.” She shook her head.
Yeshton sat again. His mind strayed over the events of last night. “If I may ask, my lady, how did you know the gates of Kavacos would open to us?”
The girl shrugged. “The queen has some clout with KryTeer, as she did sell Amantier. And whatever else she may be, Bareene is a protective mother. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her precious son.”
“But how did she alert the gates to his presence before we arrived?”
Rille shook her head. “That, I don’t know. But I knew the gates would open to us. I saw that much.” She poked at her half-finished supper. “Sir Knight, you’d best grow accustomed to how my gift works. I know things. Not the why of things, or the how of things, only the what. Be patient with me.” She tried a smile. “I do thank you for your service thus far. You’re a faithful retainer, and I shall reward that someday, saints willing.”
Yeshton lowered his eyes. “My reward is your smile, my lady.
”
She chuckled. “Why, Sir Knight, I do believe you truly feel that way.” She knelt upon her chair and reached across the table to rest her small hand on the crown of his head. “Bless you, sir. I…I’m…” She withdrew her hand and returned to her food. Her eyes were lowered, so Yeshton couldn’t see them, but he thought she might be holding back tears.
“They let him pass as ordered, my holy prince.”
Aredel turned from the high-rising window to consider the kneeling warrior in red. “Was he alone?”
“Nay, my prince. He rode with others: Crown Prince Jetekesh of Amantier, Lady Rille of Sage Province, and a soldier called Yeshton, along with Prince Jetekesh’s protector, Tifen, by name.”
The Blood Prince turned back to the night view of Kavacos. Torches lit the city, but few braved the streets. All was quiet. He approved.
“He was unharmed?”
“Yes, my prince.”
Aredel nodded. “Fate is a strange thing, Muhun. That Jetekesh, Rille, and the storyteller ride together—could it be anything else? Bareene’s prize. My lord father’s prize. And…” He smiled to himself. What could he call Jinji of Shing? Not a prize, surely. Not a trophy at all. What was Jinji to be called?
“Tail them, Muhun. Do not harm them or interfere. Do nothing but keep a vigil for now. Let us see where they will flee.” Aredel’s smile stretched. Could it be said that Jinji fled? He was no coward. No warrior. Nothing but Jinji called Wanderlust.
“The queen will want her son back,” said the warrior.
“Good. Let her stew and fret. It is the least we can arrange for her.”
“Yes, my prince.”
The warrior stood. Bowed low. Turned and left the king’s chamber.
Aredel paced to the bed where the ailing king of Amantier lay. Silent now, the king slept. Aredel returned his gaze to the window. To the silence of a vanquished kingdom. To peace. He breathed in. A pity it couldn’t last.
Crownless Page 5
