In the Enemy's Service (Annals of Alasia Book 2)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  “Why don’t you sit down and do some knitting?” Eleya suggested after Anya’s fourth pass through the clinic. “Keeping your hands busy will help calm your mind.”

  But Anya couldn’t sit still long enough for that. After three or four stitches she set her knitting aside and went back to pacing, chewing on her nails and fidgeting with her braid as she silently practiced what she would say. Every time she heard a voice from outside or saw people walking past the window, her heart leaped and she ran to the front door to see if someone were coming to fetch her. But each time she realized it had nothing to do with her. Things were a lot busier here now than they had been. Even though it was late in the evening, soldiers and palace workers kept coming and going. At one point the gates opened and two carriages rolled through, grooms running across the courtyard to see to the horses as well-dressed passengers stepped out and were ushered into the palace by uniformed attendants. It seemed that Prince Jaymin was not the only one here with more to do than there were hours of daylight to do it in.

  When the outer door of the clinic was finally pulled open, Anya nearly jumped out of her skin. She raced to the front room just as Wennish stepped inside, looking dejected. At the sight of him, she skidded to a stop, her heart sinking. She didn’t need his first words to tell her he wasn’t bringing good news.

  “I’m sorry, Anya. I tried, but it didn’t work. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, no. No!” Anya wailed in despair, feeling as though the world were falling out from under her. Her last hope had been dashed.

  “What happened?” Tonnis inquired, guiding Anya to a seat on one of the benches.

  Wennish plopped down across from them. “Prince Jaymin asked me about the night of the Invasion and what it was like with the Malornians here,” he told them. “I answered everything I could, and I made sure I talked about you and how you helped me get better, and all the times you took such great risks to find out information. I think he was impressed, too. But when I told him that you needed to speak to him, he said you should make an appointment with Cleetas. I was trying to explain that it couldn’t wait, but then an attendant came in and announced that some guests had just arrived who he hadn’t been expecting until tomorrow. Family friends from Tainabi who had worked with his aunt and uncle before they were killed, or something like that. He apologized and said he really had to go make them welcome, and thanked me for coming. Then he excused himself and left, and that was that.”

  Anya buried her face in her hands, fighting back tears. “My father’s doomed.”

  Tonnis patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Maybe not. Maybe we can still think of something.”

  “But there’s no more time!” Anya wailed from behind her hands. “The execution is tomorrow morning.”

  Wennish sighed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It’s my fault. I should have found a better way to make the prince understand; to explain it more quickly.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. It isn’t anyone’s fault,” Eleya assured him, wrapping an arm around Anya’s shoulders. “Help us think. What can we try now?”

  “The prince has to be done with all his meetings sometime,” Tonnis pointed out. “Maybe Anya can speak with him right before he goes to bed.”

  Anya looked up hopefully. “Yes, maybe. How would I do it?”

  “One of us can show you the way to his quarters, and you can wait for him outside the door,” Tonnis suggested.

  But Wennish shook his head. “It won’t work. There are soldiers and servants on duty throughout that whole floor, and they’re not going to let a person without an appointment just sit there waiting for him. Otherwise half the population of Almar would try something like that to get a few moments with the future king.”

  Anya slumped over and buried her face in her hands again. “Then there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Don’t give up hope,” Eleya scolded. She paused. “Oh! I know. Maybe he’ll be free tomorrow at the time when he would have been welcoming tonight’s guests.”

  A ray of hope stirred in Anya’s heart once more. She turned to Wennish. “Do you think? What time were they supposed to arrive tomorrow? Morning or afternoon?”

  The guard shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. No one said.”

  “Cleetas would know. We can go ask him, can’t we?” she prompted. “He could write me into Prince Jaymin’s schedule in that spot.”

  “We can,” Wennish told her, “but not tonight. He won’t be in his office this late. But you could go see him right after breakfast and get him to slot you in.”

  Eleya squeezed Anya’s hand. “You see? There’s still hope. I’m sure this will work. Now you’d better go upstairs and get some sleep. You want to be rested when you meet with the prince tomorrow.”

  But Anya didn’t sleep much that night. She lay on her sofa bed, tossing and turning and worrying. What if their plan didn’t work? What if Cleetas wouldn’t help her? What if the guests had been scheduled to come in the afternoon or late morning after the execution? What if Cleetas had already planned something else into the prince’s schedule at that time? What if she did manage to get a meeting with Prince Jaymin, but he refused her request? There were too many things that might go wrong, and her father was probably lying awake on the cold, hard floor of the dungeon right now wondering whether or not his daughter would be able to save his life. Every time Anya dozed off she would dream about him lying there worrying, or about the prince laughing at her and saying no, or about the horrible sight of Father’s head being chopped off. She kept jerking awake, her heart pounding, her nightgown damp with sweat.

  Sometime before dawn she finally fell into a sounder sleep, from which she awoke with a start to feel Eleya shaking her gently by the shoulder. “Good morning, Anya. It’s nearly breakfast time. You’d best be getting up so you can get ready to go talk to Cleetas.”

  Anya sat up groggily. Father’s going to die today, was the first coherent thought that crossed her mind.

  “Now don’t you start crying,” Eleya soothed, wrapping an arm around Anya’s shoulder and gently brushing away the tear that had already started down her cheek. “There’s no reason to give up hope so soon. Get dressed in your regular dress again, not the Malornian one, then come down and wash your face and I’ll help you pretty up your hair. Then we’ll go get a bite to eat before you talk to Cleetas. I’ll come with you to his office, if you like.”

  “All right.” Anya, too tired to think independently, was grateful to have orders to follow. Get up. Get dressed. Walk down the stairs. Wash my face.

  Eleya chatted merrily as she brushed and braided Anya’s hair once again, obviously trying to keep Anya’s mind off her worries. It didn’t work. She was so anxious her stomach felt tied up in knots.

  “I’m not hungry,” she told Eleya. “You can go to breakfast without me.”

  “Not feeling well?” Tonnis sympathized, bustling in from the front room. He placed a hand on her forehead. “You don’t have a fever, though you look a bit pale. Why don’t I brew you some pelargonium tea with honey? Or perhaps a little warm milk would calm your nerves.”

  “No.” Just the thought almost made Anya gag. “I don’t want anything to eat or drink.” Not until I find out whether my father’s going to live or die today. Either way, it would all be settled in a couple more hours. That thought made her want to gag too.

  The front door of the clinic opened and a well-dressed older gentleman walked in. Glancing over, Anya recognized Tonnis’s friend from the market.

  Tonnis turned. “Sir Edmend! Good morning. How’s that wrist doing today?” The man joined them in the back. “Not bad at all, as battle injuries go. I’m fortunate not to have come away with anything more serious. Good morning, ladies.” He smiled at Eleya and Anya. “That cloak, as I’m sure you saw, was just the thing,” he confided to Anya. “Thank you again for the work you put into it.”

  Anya, whose mind still didn’t feel completely awake, couldn’t think of any response but to nod her head. Sir Edme
nd turned back to Tonnis. “Could I have another of those poultices you gave me? It did wonders for my wrist yesterday.”

  “Of course.” Tonnis bent to open one of the cupboards as his wife stepped forward.

  “Sir Edmend, you know that Anya here was the source of most of the information Tonnis brought you over the last few weeks,” Eleya reminded the man.

  “I do indeed,” he replied, smiling at Anya again. “Her information was quite helpful as I traveled back and forth coordinating plans with Prince Jaymin and General Dirken. She’s done our kingdom a great service.”

  “Maybe you could do her one in return,” Eleya put in quickly as Tonnis began to open the jars he had set on the counter. “She urgently needs to speak to the prince this morning. Her father’s life is at stake and there’s no time to delay, but Prince Jaymin’s schedule is apparently extremely tight. Is there any way you could work it out for him to talk to her, say, as he’s walking from one meeting to the next?”

  “I think I could probably arrange something like that,” Sir Edmend agreed amiably. Anya looked up and drew in her breath in delighted surprise, her spirits soaring. Really?

  “Your father’s life, eh?” he asked, regarding her quizzically.

  “Yes. It’s a long story,” Anya told him through the sudden hopeful thudding of her heart. “He’s going to be killed, and only Prince Jaymin can save him. Please – how soon can you take me to talk to the prince?”

  Sir Edmend must have been curious, but he didn’t ask for details. “Our best chance would be right now,” he told her seriously. “He and Erik have started working out with Talanthus first thing every morning in the side courtyard the way they used to. They’re probably just about done; if we go now we might catch him before he heads off to his breakfast appointment.”

  Eleya squeezed Anya’s hand. “I told you something would work out! Will you take her now, please, and come back for your poultice afterward?”

  “Yes, of course.” Sir Edmend gestured for Anya to follow him. “Come on, then.”

  Anya’s knees felt weak with relief as she jumped down from the examining table where she had been sitting and hurried after him, seizing her coat from the hook by the door on the way out. She was about to meet with Prince Jaymin! There was hope for Father after all! She could hardly believe how fast everything had changed.

  Of course, the prince might still say no, but Anya wouldn’t let herself think about that. Instead she had to review how she was going to present her request. But her mind was whirling and she couldn’t remember how she had planned to begin. No matter. It would come to her when she got there.

  Sir Edmend led her across the main courtyard, already bustling with guards, soldiers, and miscellaneous palace workers even this early in the morning. They strode past the barracks and rounded the corner at the side of the palace.

  Things were much less busy here. In fact, there was hardly anyone around. Four long benches had been arranged to form a large square with open corners, marking out what was apparently an exercise area. The ground inside the square had been covered with thick, overlapping mats, and on the mats sat a man and two boys. Anya recognized Talanthus, who had helped Bronin in the stable under the Malornians, but whom she had been told was really the palace master-at-arms. He seemed to be leading Prince Jaymin and Erik in a series of stretches. The three were totally focused on what they were doing, only Erik raising his head to cast a brief glance in their direction as the two of them approached.

  “We’ll have to wait a little,” Sir Edmend pointed out unnecessarily, his voice low so as not to disturb the prince and his companions. “We may as well have a seat.” He gestured to one of the benches. Anya was nervous enough that she would have preferred to remain standing, but she nodded and forced herself to perch on the edge of the bench beside him, sitting on her hands so she wouldn’t be tempted to chew her thumbnails.

  The prince and his companions seemed to be nearly done. It would have been fun to watch the two boys practice with the fake swords Anya saw lying on one of the other benches, but now at the tail end of their workout they seemed merely to be cooling off with simple stretches. Pity. If Erik’s skills were as remarkable as she had heard, she would have loved to see him fight.

  “It’s quite impressive, your Highness, what good shape the two of you have kept yourselves in all this time,” she heard Talanthus say. “Considering that it’s been over a month since you last trained with me, I would have thought to find you a little rustier.”

  The prince chuckled. “Erik and I did some training of our own back in Drall. It wasn’t the same, of course, and we only had sticks to use for swords, but I think we helped keep each other from forgetting everything you’ve taught us.”

  “It helped pass the time, too,” Erik added. It was the first time Anya had heard him speak. “There wasn’t much else to do when we weren’t in school or fleeing for our lives.” She could tell by the way the three of them chuckled together at this that they were old friends.

  “And I’m certainly glad you were able to do that successfully,” Talanthus told Erik. Smiling, he turned to the prince. “Against all odds, you’re still alive, you’re back, and our kingdom is free again; and in two more weeks a new era will start for Alasia.”

  “Yes,” murmured Prince Jaymin, but his face had clouded a little. Was it the reminder that his parents were no longer alive, or the reference to his upcoming coronation? “In any case, I’d better get going,” he told the master-at-arms, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. “I’ve got to make myself presentable before I meet the Tainabi delegation for breakfast in just a few minutes.”

  The other two stood as well, and Talanthus bowed. “I’ll see you again at this time tomorrow, your Highness.”

  A servant appeared from around the corner and handed the prince a jacket. “Thank you.” Prince Jaymin shrugged it on, while Erik, his black tunic damp with sweat, bent to pick up his own jacket from one of the benches.

  Then, as though sensing Anya’s gaze, the bodyguard turned his head and looked her way. His face was expressionless, but his dark eyes bored right into hers as he straightened up. Anya smiled uncertainly, but he turned away without responding and said something in a low voice to the prince.

  Prince Jaymin, who had propped a foot up on a bench to retie one of his boots, turned toward the two of them and straightened up once more. “Oh, hello.”

  Sir Edmend stood up respectfully as the prince approached, Anya hastening to follow suit. “Good morning, Sir Edmend,” the prince greeted his old advisor. “And…?” He paused expectantly, smiling politely and waiting to be introduced to Anya.

  “Good morning, your Highness,” Sir Edmend replied, bowing. “This is Anya.”

  Her heart was pounding, but Anya remembered to curtsy as the prince wished her a good morning as well. She waited to be introduced to Erik, who was standing quietly a little behind and to one side, but nobody mentioned him.

  “I won’t keep you long, Sire,” Sir Edmend hurried on, “but I wanted to introduce you to the person responsible for much of the information I was able to bring to you and to General Dirken. Anya personally spied on the Malornian captain who was in command here, and on Regent Rampus, risking great danger to herself in the process. Though kidnapped from her home and forced to serve the enemy, she turned her situation around and managed to do a great deal of good for our people. She assisted Tonnis and Eleya in the clinic as well, and is at least partially responsible for Wennish the guard’s recovery.”

  The prince raised his eyebrows as he turned to Anya. “An impressive résumé. Yes, Wennish told me about you and some of your accomplishments last night. Thank you for all you’ve done for our kingdom.”

  Anya curtsied again, not sure what to say. She could feel her cheeks growing warm, not from the prince’s praise as much as the fact that Erik was standing right there. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or whether he was even listening, and those dark eyes kept sweeping the courtyard as th
ough he weren’t paying them any attention. But every now and then she thought his eyes flicked over her – not with any particular interest, at least as far as she could tell; the bodyguard was just keeping an eye on everything around him. But it gave her an odd feeling just the same.

  “Anya needs to ask you a favor, your Highness,” Sir Edmend went on, placing a hand on her shoulder, “and in light of all she’s done, I’m sure you’ll want to consider her request. In the meantime, I’ll excuse myself for an appointment at the clinic.”

  He’s leaving. Anya felt a momentary surge of panic. She wasn’t sure she was quite ready for this conversation yet, ready to be left all on her own with just Alasia’s future king and the strongest boy in the kingdom.

  “I’ll see you at the luncheon later,” the prince replied, nodding farewell to his friend. He turned back to Anya. “Shall we be seated?”

  Timidly, Anya sat down again on the edge of the bench a few feet away from him. All the times she had rehearsed this conversation she had expected to be standing – perhaps before the throne – but she supposed she could drop to her knees just as easily from the bench as from her feet. If it seemed necessary.

  “I hope you’ll pardon the state I’m in,” Prince Jaymin chuckled, bringing out a handkerchief to dab at his forehead. “Believe it or not, I don’t normally show up rumpled and sweaty to meetings, but I didn’t exactly know this one was coming.”

  “Oh, it’s all right,” Anya hastened to reassure him. Remembering her manners, she added politely, “I appreciate you being willing to talk to me on such short notice, your Highness.”

  “Not at all. After everything you’ve done for Alasia, you’ve certainly earned the right to ask a favor,” the prince told her with a smile. “I’m glad you caught me at a time when I actually have a spare moment, though not much more than that, I’m afraid. So, what can I do for you?”