“There was a train accident... I was in the hospital for months.” Kyle said it as though it were the reason there could be no connection. To me, the parallel was evident.
I felt cold, haunted. There was no way a thing like this could be rooted so deeply in my childhood. Kyle was a regular person. He was my friend. I'd known him forever.
“And you do not remember anything previous?” Deasun pressed.
“What does it matter?” Kyle breathed. A sheen of sweat had begun to develop on his forehead.
That was as much an admission as Deasun needed. He looked at my friend knowingly.
“I have parents! I have a family!” Kyle protested.
“You were sent to Haven with a set of guardians. They were supposed to keep you safe, to teach you the truth and return you to us when you were strong enough. I discovered too late that Headly had poisoned them upon their departure. They surely died. Did your family not tell you that you were adopted?”
Kyle's face paled. Lines of anger pressed across his features. “You don't know anything about us!”
My nerves prickled in warning and I flinched when he snapped. Kyle was adopted? If he knew, he'd never told me.
“Don't I? Whether they told you themselves, or I tell you now, it hurts no less. I'm sorry if this is difficult for you, but it is the truth.”
“Why should we believe you? You took us hostage! We're here to help Breakwater, not play your sick games. Take us back to our ship.”
Even Dylan was looking at Kyle differently now. “I'm all for that. But Skinny– I mean, Kyle,” he exhaled through his nose. “What if he's right? If you were–”
“I'm not a prince!” Kyle wheeled around to face me. “Kat, tell them!”
What if he is right? What if all this time, Kyle...
There was one way to know for certain. He was watching me, waiting for a response. I ironed out my own nerves, cleared my mind, and called upon the Pull to guide me to the answer.
Prince Varion Argent.
I took one hesitant step forward. Then another. Kyle was directly ahead of me, one stride away from delivering me a definite answer. I restrained myself from following the invisible tug to see if I'd be Pulled past him. I couldn't continue without arousing suspicion. The strong indication of direction was enough to startle the thoughts clear out of my mind. Suspicion be damned, I needed to know!
Drawn to the truth like a moth to fire, I closed the distance between us. The Pull led me to him, and not beyond. I had my answer. In my pocket, the silver medallion awaited the brush of my fingertips, and my heart went cold. My lovable childhood friend Kyle was Prince Varion Argent... and I'd been sent out to be his executioner.
“Kat,” Kyle said. “Tell them who I am.”
Chapter 40: Anything for a Friend
Kyle stood before me as unassuming and accidentally charming as he'd been the moment we had first met. I remembered him then, just a boy of six, or so I'd thought. How could anyone be so smart? How could a person make life look so easy? He never cared about being popular, but people liked him. He rarely studied, but soared through school. My breath was stolen away from me as the revelation struck and I saw him for who he really was. Even then, that boy was proud, stubborn– unwavering in his values, unyielding in his opinions.
Looking at him now, all of my memories melted and overlapped atop him. The Pull was never wrong, but this time it had to be. Kyle couldn't be Varion. I clung to denial, knowing that I held enough evidence to elevate him and condemn him in the very same moment.
Good gravity, Kyle. I can't do this.
My heart slammed in my chest. I rested a hand on Kyle's shoulder and turned to face Deasun. “It's not– it's not him.”
Rune didn't believe me. His expression gave nothing away, but when he looked at me, I knew.
Deasun didn't seem to care what I said. “You are mistaken, girl, but I do not fault you. Such news cannot come easily.”
Dylan let out a dry chuckle and tipped his head to Kyle mockingly. “Prince Varion. Do I laugh, kneel, or run?”
“You wouldn't get far,” Hussar Prie said under her breath with a subtle smile and twinkling eyes.
“Any show of violence Lord-Commander, Dragoon, Lodestone,” Deasun pointed to each of us in turn. “And you'll have this entire city at your throats. Despite our differences, Headly would be more than willing to facilitate in hanging your heads over the Seagate, make no mistake.”
I swallowed. “We're friends, General. I'd sooner die than let anything happen to Kyle.”
And that might be a strong possibility.
“So long as the other two in your troupe share the same sentiments,” he said dangerously, and his eyes were settled on Dylan. “Men of these occupations are rarely known for their mercy.”
Dylan glared pointedly at the man. “Do not presume to understand the circumstances that led up to my becoming a Commander, General. I am no lackey for my fair Prince Raserion. Our very presence here should illustrate the same conclusion, or have you forgotten why we've come? This Dragoon beside me single-handedly incited the rebellion in Cape Hill. We wouldn't dream of making a scratch on our boy's scrawny neck– prince or not.”
“Axton, show some respect,” Rune chided.
Dylan pulled at his cuffs. “I'll match respect for respect. I am a Lord of Breakwater, not some jumped up soldier with notions of superiority. He stands here, ready to accuse us of an absurd betrayal that has not and will not come to pass. Tell us that our companion is one of the princes. Fine. Ignore our very real plea for assistance. Arrest us, if that's what you're going to do, but do not presume to threaten me unless you intend to follow it through.”
If arrogance was the nearest cousin to courage that Dylan could muster, it was still worthwhile. Much as his wild reactions tended to concern me, I was glad that he wasn't cowering. He'd been so afraid on the Flying Fish, I couldn't have guessed he would recover so quickly. Maybe it was because the worst had already happened, he'd been apprehended and he survived long enough to be indignant about it.
General Deasun's nostrils flared. “I am too old to be a fool, Lord-Commander. I would rather test you with words than with steel.”
Dylan snorted and took his statement into consideration. “I never thought I'd see the day when a leader of armies preferred words to violence.”
“When you've experienced two hundred years of war, you learn of the futility of bloodshed,” Deasun said. He turned to Rune. “Are you truly the Dragoon who overthrew Cape Hill?”
“No,” Rune said, shocking me. Was he going to lie about what he'd done? “I liberated innocent children from my sister's murderers. If a revolt occurred because of my actions, I cannot be credited for it.”
“Yes, well,” Deasun almost smiled. If I wasn't mistaken, his respect for Rune had just increased. “You may not have a choice in the matter.”
“I traveled north with peaceful intentions as well, General. All of us came here for the sake of Breakwater. We will not harm your prince.”
“You're talking like you believe him,” Kyle said to all of us. “I'm not an immortal. I'm not a prince!” His eyes locked onto mine like I was his only anchor in a storm of colossal waves.
“I'm sorry, General Deasun.” In Shadows within Shadows, I saw silhouettes of creatures I'd never believed could possibly exist. Not the shadow chasers that glowed in the eternal-night sky, or the warhorses that glinted opalescent in the dim– the others, the ones that crept and crawled through the inky trees just out of view, those were the ones that worried me. With the trace of a finger, the medallion could call any or all of them forward. I envisioned him pinned and swallowed whole the way Rune had nearly been taken by the Gateling. What would the shadows do to Kyle? Since we took to the sea, he'd been afraid, and I swore to protect him. “You're wrong.”
Deasun stepped ahead of the prince's goliath double. “We would not offer you a throne if we did not know without a doubt that you were our prince. You do not remember me. I understan
d that my word may not be sufficient. There is an undeniable method of proof that we have not attempted.”
Kyle swallowed hard. “What is it?”
The general looked between his Hussars and back at us. “During your long rule, you kept secret a phrase. A code that you would speak to your bodyguard, alone. The key to your kingdom. In the event of disaster, it was entrusted to only your closest aides: Myself and Headly. Speak those words now. You know them.”
“This is stupid,” Kyle complained, crossing his arms.
“It is not.”
“I don't know any phrase!”
“Try it.”
“There's nothing to try! I don't know what you're talking about!” Kyle seemed surprised by the heat of his own voice, and quieted. “If you're not going to help us, just let us go.”
Deasun sighed and rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. The profound disappointment on his face managed to make me feel irrationally guilty. “I cannot release you as long as Lord Headly controls this kingdom. Our fates were irretrievably interlocked the moment I released you from Whiterock Palace and freed your friends. Doubt your history if you wish, but if you do not help me deal with Headly, the might of this kingdom will crash down upon us all.”
Kyle looked up at the Prince's bodyguard, and then back to General Deasun. “What do you want me to do?”
“We cannot risk leaving the Keep, but the nearer you are to the public, the safer you'll be. Show your face as Varion, and Headly cannot harm you. You must remember the phrase.”
Chapter 41: To Measure Friendship
I kept my arms crossed over my middle, not daring to venture anywhere near that pocket again. Cold sweat formed at my temples and shivers raked down my back despite the warmth of the room. Deasun had brought us to a private chamber under heavy guard. He'd set out to rally several historians and a carefully chosen selection of Caraway's noble citizens to bear witness to Varion's likeness in Kyle. The trick would be returning them to our meeting room without attracting Headly's attention– a feat that could prove to be impossible. Even with the risks he was taking, the general had planned for the worst. The waiting room in which we sat opened up to a lofty balcony overlooking an exquisite green and gold ballroom. If something were to happen to Deasun, we'd be in the right place to make a public display announcing Kyle as the prince. All we needed was an audience, and I was certain he'd deliver one.
The chamber itself was lavish, with swirling blue and gold wallpaper, puffy cushioned chairs, piles of throw rugs, and polished wood tables. Stodgy paintings of humorless noblemen hung from the walls, each with a more ridiculous mustache than the last. Delicately leafed vases housed mechanical flowers that simulated blooming and folding in five-minute intervals. The creation was so unique, it would have merited a closer look... perhaps from someone who wasn't losing her mind.
Rune reached out a hand, catching onto my elbow to stop me from pacing. He gave me a long, steady look that calmed me down ever so slightly. He knew what I did. I'd told him about my agreement with Prince Raserion. Why wasn't he having a panic attack along with me? Did his experience during the war foreshadow his short friendship with Kyle? Maybe he wouldn't care if he lived or died. Anything to end the war. I frowned down at my feet and regretted the thought. I wished I could talk to him– ask him what we should do– but we weren't alone.
The silence in the room was tense, and the gaping ballroom didn't provide any distraction. Dylan poked at the cracking flames in the fireplace, and Kyle sat on a cushioned bench, glaring at the oversized chair in the room that faced the balcony. It was large enough to hold Prince Varion’s bodyguard, and that was a considerable feat.
Rune broke the silence. “We should consider escape.”
“Do you think we'd have a chance?” I pushed my thick hair back from my face and considered whether I could run from my problems. My conclusion was not optimistic.
“With your Abilities and considerable luck,” Rune trailed off.
Dylan turned sharply to Rune, his beautiful face contorted with anger. “And abandon Breakwater to the fate you damned us with? Maybe quitting is the only concept you're familiar with now, but I refuse to leave until we have reinforcements for my city.”
Rune's jaw flexed with irritation. “I don't believe our situation has improved since we arrived. Kiteman has denied these claims, Katelyn supported him, and General Deasun's compromise was to bring us here to display him to the public. It could save us from Headly, but at what cost? When these people see Kiteman and believe him to be their prince, their grip on us will tighten. There will be no way out of the city. We should attempt to escape now.”
I paced to the painting of a lady with a high, white collar. Her eyebrows were like crescent moons, and her lips were thin and firm. She did not look like a kind person. Written in the deep oils of the canvas on a painted ribbon was her name, followed by a phrase.
Lady Temara Dalson - Honesty is the greatest of virtues.
I couldn't avoid the feeling that the painting was judging me. What would an escape mean if Kyle were truly Prince Varion? I needed to tell them about the Pull and I didn't know how.
“You're forgetting something. Deasun sent his men to search for Carmine again. We can't leave without her.” Kyle picked at the fabric of the bench. “Why is this happening to me?”
“I don't see what you're so glum about,” Dylan said, stabbing at the coals. “We came here wondering if we'd survive long enough to ask for help, and now they've mistaken you for their bloody prince. Agree with them, pass the order to send help to Breakwater, demand to go yourself to see it through, and never show your face again. Everyone wins.”
Rune crossed his arms. “You don't think there would be repercussions for that?”
Dylan groaned. “Oh, I know there would be. But it'd buy us some time, wouldn't it, Prince Varion?” The young lord grinned wolfishly.
Kyle slumped against the wall and rubbed his face with his hands. “I don't even want to joke about that. I'm not Prince Varion.” He said the last sentence slowly.
I bit my thumbnail, fighting to keep my thoughts to myself. Sure, there were some thirty-odd guards posted outside the door, but they wouldn't disagree with what I had to say, even if they could hear through walls so thickly buffered by decorative carpeting.
I glanced at the painting again and felt guilt scratch at me like nails on glass. “Yes, you are.” All three of them stared at me.
“Not funny, Kat,” Kyle said as dismissively as he could manage.
What was I supposed to say to him? I didn't make it up. I tested him and discovered that Deasun was right. “I'm not joking.”
That irritated him. He frowned at me like I had joined in on some kind of cruel prank. “Thanks.”
“Kyle, I used the Pull. It led to you. I can't believe it either, but that doesn't make it any less true.”
The color drained from his face. “No you didn't.”
Dylan stowed the fire poker and stared with astonishment. “Are you certain?”
Kyle's face pleaded without words that I not say it. “Yes,” I answered.
He almost laughed, but it was the negative, uneasy kind. “That's impossible. I'm me.”
I looked down at my hands and back up into my friend's honest, silver eyes. “Twelve.”
“What?” he asked, blinking. His hands were trembling. He looked terrified.
“Deasun– he said twelve years,” I muttered. “Ever since Haven was founded, information was passed through the Still Well in Rivermarch and taken by the Historical Research Society. The information stopped twelve years ago. The impenetrable lock on the inside of the Still Well began to break twelve years ago. My mother left me and my father to work on a secret project to break that lock with Professor Barry Block, twelve years ago.” My voice became stronger with every statement. “Kyle...”
“No.” He shot to his feet and paced, shaking his head.
“It feels like we've known each other forever...”
“No.” His eyes became glossy and red.
It was so hard to see him like that, and to keep forming the words that I needed to say. “We met, twelve years ago.”
Kyle's eyes burned with red and a tear slipped down his cheek. “He's a monster!” Frantically, he looked to Dylan. “You've told us as much! I'm not him!”
“You've been acting strangely ever since we reached Cape Hill. In your dreams, you were burning. The Prince burned. We all saw the film. His Ability made him a child again so he could heal the damage to his body, and he was sent to Haven. As crazy as it sounds, it all lines up.”
“Don't say that.” Kyle's voice wavered. His eyes were bloodshot and he raked a shaky hand through his curly hair, pulling on the tangled ends. “It doesn't make sense. It can't.”
“I'm sorry.” My knees felt weak from the absurdity of it all. It should have been a dream, but it wasn't. “Kyle, you really are Prince Varion Argent.”
“Don't ever say that to me ever again!” Kyle shouted, charging halfway across the room at me.
I flinched like he'd struck me. Never in my life had I seen him so angry. I wasn't prepared for such a roaring temper. Either I'd struck a nerve, he'd known all along, or he was innocent and simply tormented by the idea. Regardless of the reason for his final outburst, I was offended by his treatment of me. If I didn't tell him the truth before a kingdom crowned or killed him for who he was, what kind of a friend would I be? It was bad enough to carry the weight of my agreement with Raserion.
He must have read my expression and seen the betrayal I felt by the lash of his emotions. He stopped short, and a tear slipped down his cheek.
“I'm sorry, Kat,” he said, with a trembling chin.
Rune stepped slowly to my side, a tall and silent reminder that I was not to be mistreated under any circumstances.
Kyle looked up at him and some of the wind went out of his chest. “I'm sorry,” he insisted.
War of the Princes 03: Monarch Page 24
