Haven (War of the Princes)

by A. R. Ivanovich

  She backed clumsily away, and I vowed not to be affected by this Axton in any such way, despite his ethereal beauty. He was one of my captors.

  I glared at him unabashedly from my position against the railing.

  “Come inside,” he asked, rather than ordered. “It’s gusty out there. You could catch cold, or the rail could fail and send you down into that water, and let me tell you, there’s a frightful undertow beside the keep. Trust me, I’ve tried to swim it.”

  “Trust me?” I asked uneasily. “Is that your trademark?”

  He cocked his head with a quizzical expression.

  “You’ve already said it twice in a span of three minutes. I’m pretty sure that Rosie would trust anything that you’d say, but why should I?” I told him, and a smile broke across his face.

  “Suit yourself. I just hope you’re a good enough diver to make the fall and a good enough swimmer to get out of that undertow,” he said, languidly seating himself in a chair just within the room, beside the wide open door.

  The exit was tempting and daunting. How could I get past him?

  I wanted to resist. I wanted to do the opposite of whatever he told me. But the truth was, it was cold, and while the heights didn’t bother me, the wind was strong. I didn’t want to find out if the railing actually would break. I kept my chin up and sidled into the room with my back to the wall, keeping as far away from him as I could. He quirked an eyebrow and gave me an incredulous look, as though I was overreacting.

  “I thought you might like an upgrade,” he said, clearly referring to the cell I was tossed into early that morning.

  “Where are my clothes?” I demanded with quiet embarrassment.

  “The nurse changed you. We didn’t think you’d be comfortable sleeping in the ones you were wearing. They were wet. No, I had nothing to do with dressing you, gentleman’s honor. Did you sleep well? This is my favorite guest room,” something about the casual tone of his voice began to infuriate me.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Me? I just thought you’d like a nicer place to stay,” he said innocently.

  “Why am I a prisoner?”

  “Prisoner? No, you aren’t a prisoner. Not anymore. You’re my guest. Just don’t try to leave Breakwater and you can have as many freedoms as you’d like. And there’s no better place to stay-”

  “Trust you?” I scoffed, finishing for him.

  “Listen,” he said, leaning back with one elbow atop his chair. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over shall we? I’m-”

  “Axton,” I interrupted again, trying my best to look unimpressed. I didn’t like it, but in truth, it was getting harder and harder not to stare at him.

  “Dylan,” he corrected me with a smile that was gentle enough to be the most charming smile I’d ever seen. “Dylan Axton. You trust people when you know them right? I’m the second son of the late Vance Axton, Common-Lord of Breakwater. My father died four years ago in the line of duty for the Breakwater Militia. My older brother Brendon is the Common-Lord now, but since he and the others are out in the field fighting Lurchers, I’ve taken up his duties. Red is my favorite color, I despise green beans with all of my heart and soul, and I’m unusually good at learning card games but I almost never win.”

  I had a feeling this Dylan Axton didn’t need to win at cards to get what he wanted. He was as charismatic as he was good looking.

  When I didn’t comment or reply, he asked, “What’s your name?”

  I didn’t answer. I’m not sure why. I had no idea how calm or afraid I should have been. It might have done no harm to tell him my name, but I didn’t.

  “I want to go home,” was my response.

  “Well maybe I can help you do that,” he said smoothly. “Where are you from?”

  My lips stayed closed. Sharing-time was over as soon as they tied me up and threw me in a cell. No points for diplomacy.

  “I’m trying to help you here,” he persisted, breaking the silence.

  “Just let me go,” I implored him, fighting to keep my emotions from spilling out of my tear ducts. It was all I wanted. No questions, no words, just a way out.

  “I can’t do that,” he said apologetically, and the open sincerity on his face made me want to believe him. “I’m sorry. We’re at war overseas. You’re a very big security risk. Now it’s plain as day to me that you aren’t a spy. Seems ridiculous to send a spy to a place as backwater as Breakwater, and even if they did, you aren’t it. As long as I’m here, you won’t be treated as a prisoner, but it is important that we know who you are and where you are from so that we can let you go.”

  He sounded like he was telling the truth. As little as I knew about the outside world, I felt compelled to sympathize with him. But perhaps for the first time, I truly took the message over the aquamarine pool to heart: DON’T LET THEM IN. Could it have meant the monsters in the dark, or the people of this town? I couldn’t bring myself to tell him anything.

  “Won’t you at least tell me your name?” he asked, locking eyes meaningfully with mine. With the distance between us I couldn’t tell what color they were, but it was evident that they weren’t silver like mine and everyone else’s in Haven Valley.

  There was a delicacy about how he looked at me, gentle, disarming, and just personal enough to make me feel unreasonably flattered.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t hold his gaze, and like the other girl before, I found myself studying the floor tiles.

  He sighed. “Shy it is.”

  I understood that they wouldn’t let me leave. I’d have to try to find a way to escape, but for now I had another very pressing question.

  “Are you hungry?” Dylan inquired, gesturing to the tray of covered food on the opposite side of the open door.

  My feet were beginning to feel sore and chill from the hard stone floor and my stomach grumbled a bit, but I ignored his question and served him my own.

  “Is Rune alive?”

  He gave me a long measured stare that appeared very subtly disappointed. “Yes,” he answered.

  Relief flowed through me and I could feel myself breathe a little easier. It may have been stupid to feel that I had a friendship with Rune. I hardly knew him better than “Young Lord Axton,” but Rune was the one who got me into this mess. He was the one whose life had so recently depended on me. He mattered.

  “Can I see him?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his gaze. This time I didn’t allow myself to be swayed by his unparalleled beauty. There was a shrewdness to Axton’s eyes, and I focused on that so I wouldn’t be distracted by the rest of him.

  “I told you,” he said, appearing amiable. “You’re my guest.”

  The answer wasn’t enough for me. I waited.

  “Yes, you can see him,” he elaborated. Then, at last, there came the catch. “The thing is, for security reasons, someone has to be with you whenever you’re outside of this room. Since you’re my guest, I’d like that person to be me, whenever possible.” Dylan gave me a smile that almost made my knees turn to jelly. “Besides, you’ll need a tour guide around town. Do you mind if I take up that post?”

  “No, I don’t mind,” I answered with grudging resignation, barely able to get my voice working.

  “Excellent!” he said cheerfully, hopping from the chair to his feet. “We’ll go to see the Dragoon. But first, why don’t you put on something warmer. The days have been hot, but the nights are getting colder.”

  “How long was I asleep?” I wondered aloud, glancing outside for some hint of the time.

  “Thirteen hours, and I must admit I’m impressed,” he said with apparent admiration.

  “Thirteen hours?” I exclaimed. I’d been known to sleep in for ten at best after a long couple of days, but thirteen was pushing it, even for me. I realized that I may have been guilty of trying not to wake up. After doing the math, it made sense. I’d been tossed into the dungeons sometime around dawn. It just sounded like such a long time to spend sleeping, espec
ially under my circumstances.

  “I made preparations for clothes that looked about your size. They’re in the armoire,” Dylan nodded over at the hefty wooden thing on one side of the room. “I’ll be just outside when you’re ready.”

  He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  I sighed heavily and slumped against the wall where I had been standing. I wasn’t swooning over Dylan, I was just wound up tight with confusion and the ever present longing to be home. It was tiring, even for a girl who had gotten thirteen hours of rest.

  The dark wood armoire was overstuffed with clothes, as promised. I avoided the feminine looking garments in favor of the practical ones, choosing a grey pair of trousers, a pale orange shirt with long sleeves and the meanest pair of boots I could find among the slippers and sandals. I didn’t know if I’d get a chance to escape, but if I did, I’d better have some good all-terrain shoes.

  There was a mirror on the armoire’s inner door, and an assortment of brushes, combs, ribbons and bands. I brushed my hair as quickly as I could without tearing it out, and secured it in a ponytail with a simple rubber band.

  That being done, I stole a corner of bread from my food tray, ate it, and left the unfamiliar morsels where they sat. It’d have to hold me for the time being.

  When I took a deep breath and left my plush “guest” room, the first thing Dylan had to say to me was, “Interesting choice of colors.”

  * * *

  Breakwater Keep was much larger on the inside than it had looked from the outside. My room was on the highest floor, along with the Axton’s private chambers, studies, meeting hall, and observatory. We passed a few of those doors, and Dylan cheerfully explained the purpose of each one.

  I got more than one strange look from the people we passed and I caught a few disapproving glances from militia guards. Dylan was oblivious. He led me straight down the very broad sets of stairways all the way to the ground floor and through a side passage filled with bright windows opening to views of the water around the keep, a long silvery white beach, and the clusters of cottages beyond.

  It was obvious by the smell of alcohol and herbs that we had made our way to the medical wing, and I was grateful for fresh air that the windows allowed to circulate.

  The main waiting room was filled with squat armchairs on one side and long desks cluttered with papers and books on the other. Huddled over these desks were two old men and one middle-aged woman. They all wore dull green uniforms.

  “Good evening doctors,” Dylan said with familiarity, alerting them to his entrance.

  “Young Lord Axton,” one of the old men said, peeping at them from behind spectacles. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here? Furthering your studies?”

  “Not today, Brambles. My friend Shy here would like to visit the Dragoon,” Dylan replied, and they all looked at me with utterly perplexed expressions.

  The middle-aged woman stared at me with the deepest intensity. Her brown skin was smooth and mostly clear of wrinkles, if it weren’t for strongly intermingled grey hairs, I would have thought her in her early thirties.

  “Why?” she asked me directly.

  I wasn’t expecting a question like that. Why wouldn’t I want to see the person whom I had helped yesterday? Dylan shrugged with disinterest.

  “I just wanted to see how he’s doing,” I said awkwardly. Rune had told me that while no one wanted him to die, no one cared that he lived. I figured that was what I was seeing here.

  “Just this way,” the woman said neutrally. Dylan stayed behind as she led me down a whitewashed hallway and into one of many small rooms. This one had a single bed facing a large window and a door leading out to a wide, stone balcony with a railing much sturdier than mine. The beach and the town behind it were beautiful in the gradually dimming light of dusk. On one wall there was a breathtaking painting of a white, leafless tree clinging to a rock in the midst of a dark and stormy ocean. The depth of light and shadow accomplished in the painting was commendable. Aside from that, the room was quite plain, and very, very clean.

  Rune lay in the bed, his eyes closed, though I could see his chest moving beneath the sheets as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

  “I know you’re the one who was with him last night,” the woman doctor said, doing a routine check on her patient without so much as looking at me. “I don’t know why you care to check up on him. Idle curiosity? Well, we’ll settle that. He’s recovering. Almost lost his arm to infection but we managed to save it. The fever has finally passed, so he’s out of most of the danger. He kept muttering ‘ghost’ in his sleep.”

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Does that mean something to you?” she asked me, finally looking me over.

  “I helped him last night,” I said honestly. “He could barely stand.”

  “Well, you’ve done us all a service by recovering a Dragoon, if that’s true,” the woman said, shielding her expression by turning away to check the bandaging on his arm. Her voice was absolutely devoid of care. “As soon as he’s well, he’ll be back in service.”

  “I’m just glad he’s okay,” I said with earnest relief. “He’s the only friend I’ve got.”

  “Then you don’t have any. Dragoons keep no connections,” she said sternly, facing me. “You’re a strange girl not to know that much.”

  “You can’t tell me who my friends are,” I said, affronted. It seemed a stupid thing to argue over, but this place was entirely foreign to me, and even such a simple thing as a friend meant everything to me.

  “He can’t have friends, he’s a Dragoon,” she said sounding none too pleased with me. “We are all grateful for his sacrifice, but he’s a soldier for the Margrave. He’s dead to us. No family, no connections… no friends.”

  I knew it was rude for me to talk back to a Doctor, but I couldn’t contain my irritation. What she was saying didn’t make the least bit of sense to me. Rune had called me a friend, his “wish,” and now that even my clothes had been taken from me, he was the only familiar connection I had with my way home.

  “Who are you to say that?” I demanded, stubbornly.

  She turned her back to me abruptly. “I was his mother.”

  She walked away from me just like that, leaving me shocked at his bedside.

  Chapter 15: My Only Friend

  “Satisfied?” Dylan asked, sauntering into the room and collapsing into the armchair beside the window of Rune’s sickbed.

  I was still dumbfounded that the woman without the slightest hint of sympathy in her voice was Rune’s mother. In all honesty, she reminded me of my mother... my real mother, who was more concerned with her work than her husband or daughter. We had that in common, it seemed.

  I looked down at Rune. His brush with death was evident by the pallor of his slightly gaunt face. The rise and fall of his steady, rhythmic breathing was a growing comfort to me. He may not have been awake, but he was alive, and that meant I wasn’t alone here.

  “How could I be satisfied?” I said, dejected, clinging to the hope of escape.

  “You tell me. There’s obviously nothing here to see. Shall we be on our way?” he asked flippantly.

  I may have saved Rune, but what did I bring him back to?

  Turning, I looked Dylan in the face.

  “Do you know him?” I asked abruptly.

  “I wouldn’t say I do anymore,” he said cryptically.

  I was at my wits end. “You know what I mean. Past and present included.”

  “Of course,” Dylan said, looking away from me for once. It appeared he found the view of the beach much more interesting. “We went to school together before he became a Dragoon. He was- is a few years older than me. He was my brother’s friend more than mine, but we all got on well. Now he’s a Dragoon, so that old book is closed. I suppose it’s possible that you don’t know. Dragoons are allowed no connections. No friends, no family.”

  “So I keep hearing,” I muttered, gazing back at Rune’s peace
ful face.

  I almost didn’t believe my eyes when I saw his lips part and heard his voice whisper, “Katelyn.”

  My pained expression must have given me away. Dylan leaned back in his seat. “So, you must be Katelyn?”

  He got a nod from me, but my eyes were fixed on Rune. The wounded Dragoon just went on sleeping as though he hadn’t said my name at all.

  “I’ll have to thank him for introducing us,” Dylan grinned.

  I ignored him. He was really beginning to get on my nerves.

  Dylan groaned and pulled himself up out of the chair, stalking over to me, and put his hands on my shoulders to turn me to face him. The physical contact and the closeness to such an unbearably handsome guy made my heart race involuntarily. I hated that I reacted that way. I wished I didn’t know him.

  “Listen, Katelyn,” he said, trying my name out. “I don’t know if this is some grand façade or if you really don’t understand the dynamic with Dragoons. How can I put this to you gently? When Rune Thayer wakes up, he’s not going to speak to you. He’ll act like he doesn’t know you or like you’re not there. Lurcher venom, even if a wound isn’t infected, will cause severe hallucinations. I’ve heard they can reduce a soldier to the vulnerability of a child. I don’t know what impression he gave you while he was suffering from fevers and Lurcher venom, but that wasn’t him. Don’t expect much when he wakes up, or better yet, don’t expect anything.”

  I stood there disliking every single word that came out of his mouth. I wanted to deny the possibility that Rune would act that way. I hated what he told me even more because it all fit with what Rune himself had said from the beginning. No connections. I didn’t want to believe that Rune would cast me aside. I saved his life, and he might be the only person who I could trust to help me. I couldn’t imagine that the person who asked about my favorite things in life, who told me about his love of painting and about his little sister, wouldn’t acknowledge my existence.