The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1)

by K. L. Gee

  “An army this time, not just a small group raiding a village here or there,” King Arden said to Darr. “This is a full declaration of war.”

  “My men will arrive in two weeks,” King Darr said. “They started marching the moment we signed the treaty.”

  What treaty? Kara thought. Her engagement. Of course, there would have been a deal made about armies and all the other things she wasn’t supposed to know.

  “We’ll march out ahead of them then. The coastal soldiers can be reinforcements,” General Elik was saying.

  “Arden, you’ll want to see this,” General Iben said. Kara heard footsteps, and everything went quiet.

  “A winter storm?” King Darr asked.

  “Darr’s men will have to wait till the Northern Passage clears,” General Iben said, “and we won’t be marching ourselves for a few weeks. It looks like a fierce one.”

  Her father cursed. “A life for a life then. Let’s teach the Terra a lesson. Send a message to the border guard to retreat to the nearest village once they have cleaned up there. Have them kill the livestock.”

  “Livestock?” Prince Sesto asked.

  “Another word for Terra slaves,” King Arden said. Kara shivered—the air seemed to get colder around her. “You there. Check that my daughter is with her mother or in her room. Come, gentleman. A storm won’t stop this war.”

  Kara had to get to her mother quickly. She didn’t want to be in the path of her father’s wrath again. She ran toward the gallery, passing the portraits of the many kings and queens before her. The servants were busily closing all the windows and draping thick curtains over them and lighting fires throughout the citadel. Kara glanced outside. Snow was falling thickly—the thick clouds had turned into a blizzard.

  She zipped to the queen’s chambers quickly, far ahead of the servant. She knocked softly, and a servant opened the door for her.

  “Mother, are you all right?”

  Her mother lay on the bed, looking sickly. “I feel a bit faint today. The weather has shifted, hasn’t it? Oh, I should like for it to be spring.”

  Kara helped her mother onto some pillows and asked a servant to go fetch some tea. “There’s a blizzard outside. And… I overheard something I shouldn’t have. There’s also a war.”

  Sabola smiled, sitting up and taking the tea. “That’s not a secret, Kara.”

  Kara swallowed. “The Terra attacked the border with an army.”

  “Hmm,” Sabola said, looking at the window. The panes were already gathering clumps of snow along their borders. “And the storm will stop us from advancing.” She sipped some tea calmly and then turned to Kara, face serene. “How were your morning studies?”

  Kara sat in disbelief. This had been, on all accounts, a horrible few days. First Azure, then the prince, her father, and now… now the threat of the enemy feeling incredibly close. She was so frustrated with her mother, who could just sit there drinking tea as if she didn’t care. Her mother had to care, and yet she appeared to fall into the demure and quiet role designed for a queen.

  Kara didn’t hide her emotions very well. Sabola looked at her carefully. “Not well, then?” she said.

  Kara shook her head.

  “Do you have a fondness for that Su guard?” The queen asked suddenly.

  “Of course I do, Mother. He was one of my dearest friends growing up. I feel awful for what I did. No, for what Father did,” Kara said, sorrow and shame raking her voice.

  “Ah…” the queen started; then Kara looked up, surprised. Did her mother think she had romantic feelings for Azure?

  “Oh, not like that! Of course not,” Kara said. She had never even thought of Azure in that way. “But I consider him a good friend. Or, I did. I did before everyone told me it wasn’t proper anymore.”

  “And it isn’t. Especially not between a princess and a guard.”

  “But surely royalty can still have friends.”

  “I do not.” The queen said in a matter of fact tone, without regret. “It isn’t the role of a queen to have friends. Your father is making difficult decisions as we speak—think how much more difficult it would be if he considered everyone to be a friend.”

  “But even Father has people he trusts and loves.”

  “Yes, to a degree. Still, the more power you have, the lonelier you are.”

  “A man who has the power should not be trusted.” Kara quoted from a keeper text. It was talking about the power to port, but Kara thought it applied here.

  “How have your lunches been with the prince?” the queen asked. She set down her tea and lay back on her pillows, wincing. Kara was concerned. Her mother wasn’t far into her pregnancy, and she was already in pain. She hoped this pregnancy wouldn’t result in another stillbirth or miscarriage.

  “He’s a horrid person,” Kara said finally, thinking of the prince’s cruel words. Her mother sighed a deep long sigh that made Kara feel ashamed of herself. Kara tried again, not wanting to upset her mother. “We… are having trouble getting to know one another,” she said.

  “Oh, Kara. You are a practical and kind girl, but you don’t care much for etiquette, do you? You must understand how important it is.”

  “Even in a time of war?”

  “Especially in a time of war.”

  Before Kara could argue, there was a small knock on the door, and in came a messenger carrying a note. He handed it to Kara.

  “Well, what is it?” her mother asked.

  Kara opened up the letter and read it out loud. “Dear Princess, I apologize for the way I’ve behaved since we met. I wondered if you would accompany me on a stroll through the gallery. Perhaps we can step outside to catch the first snowfall. Yours, Prince Sesto.”

  Kara caught the smile on the queen’s face. Kara was too stunned to say anything. The queen turned to the messenger. “The princess will join the prince in the gallery, if someone will fetch her wool cloak.” The messenger nodded, and another servant went to fetch Kara’s cloak.

  What did Prince Sesto want with Kara? Did he really want to talk to her and apologize? Kara found herself brimming with distrust, but still, she held on to a hope that he could be a tolerable person after all. His letter had seemed intelligent enough.

  “Well,” her mother said, settling back into her bed when Kara’s cloak arrived. “Maybe he’s not so horrid.”

  Kara was reluctant to believe her. She would wait till the evidence proved it so. So she put on her cloak and stepped out the door to meet the prince.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After a moment of indecision, Hakon decided to go north to the Su waters. If anyone had survived, they would follow Tip’s instructions and meet there. The sun was rising in the east, over the Desolate Mountains. He turned left and began to head northeast. Hakon was too tired to zip the entire way back. He ran a little, then would zip a little ways, trying to catch his breath in between.

  As he got closer, he saw the smoke and wreckage of the border camp in the east. In the sky rose a giant yellow haze. He gave the camp a wide breach, avoiding the chance of being seen again. He tried not to think about Tip’s and Isis’s bodies or anyone else of the tribe and his family that might have been pulled into the fight with the Alem.

  Soon he could see a gentle forest, distinct from the denseness of the Desolate Forest. This forest was thinned out, made up of a grove of beautiful white aspens, whose leaves blew like chimes in the wind. From the forest flowed a river. He decided to follow the river north, hoping it would lead to the Su waters.

  The sun was high in the sky by the time Hakon saw the waterfalls up ahead. There were several of them, all twisting in and out of each other, creating a large rush of a river. Hakon looked to the immediate waterfall. No one was there or in the clearing that surrounded it. He moved to another waterfall, another clearing. He paused and crouched.

  By the pool of water was a horse, head bent down and drinking. Beside the horse sat a strange–looking girl. She had a sash tied around her eyes. Her clothes se
emed to be piled on top of her with several layers and knots, all gathering around her form. She was filling a skin with water, and more skins lay by her side.

  “Hello?” he said, holding his dagger just in case. The girl’s head lifted.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hakon?”

  Hakon turned toward the other waterfall, heading back toward the voice, keeping his eye on the girl. Tadi emerged from behind a collection of boulders cautiously. He held his bow and arrow. His hood was up, but Hakon could still see his face was covered in fresh cuts. His furs were torn in several places. Following behind him was his ziff, who barked softly.

  “Tadi! You’re all right! Why are you hiding?”

  “I’m afraid—” Tadi was interrupted when a spear was thrown in his direction. He zipped away immediately. He held up his bow and arrow as Skeet stepped from the forest, hatchet in hand.

  “You coward!” Skeet shouted. “Had to attack in the night?”

  Hakon’s relief at seeing Skeet alive quickly turned to horror as Skeet picked up his sling and filled it with rocks. “Skeet! Stop this!”

  “You traitor!” Skeet shouted again. He ran to pick up his spear just as the strange girl entered the clearing on her horse. Skeet pulled his sling back, and several rocks hurtled toward Tadi, who zipped away in time.

  “What is this?” the girl asked.

  “Stay out of this, Su,” Skeet shouted.

  Tadi still held up the bow and arrow and had it pointed at Skeet. The girl jumped down in front of Skeet’s spear and turned toward them. “I know your code, Terra. Who are you avenging when you kill this boy?”

  “Our family!” Skeet shouted. There was murder in his eyes. Hakon prepared to zip, just in case.

  “Do you know he betrayed you?” the girl asked. “If you are not sure, then his blood will cry against you.”

  “Why do you care, traitor?”

  The girl grinned. “I’m sheepish. I faint at the sight of blood.”

  “You’re blind.”

  “I don’t like hearing blood.”

  Tadi stared. “You can hear blood?”

  The girl nodded. “It sounds a like a spring, gurgling. Haven’t you heard it, little Terra?”

  Skeet’s entire body was shaking. “My family is dead! Someone has to pay!” Skeet lifted his spear and ran toward the Su girl and Tadi, not caring who he struck first. Hakon zipped to him, grabbed his arm, and zipped him into the thick of the aspens.

  Once they landed, Skeet put his foot on the ground. Hakon caught his tremor just in time. “No, Skeet.” He looked above the tree line and zipped them into the sky. They were now suspended and falling high above the tree line. “You can’t zip without earth, and if you push me away, you’ll fall.”

  Skeet punched him anyway and began free falling. Hakon zipped to catch him and zipped higher into the sky again.

  “Curse you, Alem. Think you have the advantage in air zipping.”

  The words stung at Hakon. Had Skeet already put him in the enemy’s camp? “They are my family too, Skeet.” He zipped them farther out into the forest, landing hard on its floor. “He is just a boy, Brother. We both know Windfather’s tribe planted him as my third, but he’s just a pawn. They sent him with us with hardly any training. “

  “Even a baby cobra’s bite can kill,” Skeet said.

  “We don’t know it was his tribe who attacked us.”

  “Who else then?”

  Hakon wasn’t sure. No other tribe had opposed them so fiercely. He ignored Skeet’s question. “Our family will be avenged, Skeet. But I will not let you kill that boy. There was as much surprise on his face as ours when they attacked. I saw him fighting for his life and for me. They weren’t afraid to kill him if needed.”

  Skeet relaxed under Hakon’s grip. Then he fell to his knees, burying his head against the earth. The rush of fear that had taken Hakon now subsided to the seeping of grief. The reality was still distant. Of course there were survivors. There had to be. His tribe was full of skilled fighters—legendary. Hakon felt a wave of guilt. What if he had decided not to chase the carrier pigeons and stayed and saved more of his kin? Chasing the birds had been worthless. Their chances at peace or negotiation were destroyed. He could have saved more lives if he’d stayed.

  He didn’t want to think about how many men he had killed. How many dead souls now cried for vengeance at his blood?

  Hakon sank down next to Skeet. “What do we do, Brother?”

  Skeet looked up—his eyes were dry, but sorrow hung there. “Let’s not leave Tadi with a Su stranger.”

  ***

  The sun set slowly and lingered in a deep red color. Still the Su girl stayed. She brushed her horse methodically, and then filled her canteens at the waterfall. Hakon watched her closely. She didn’t carry any weapons. She only wore the tangled outfit that hugged against her body tightly with a series of knots and pockets. Now that Skeet had identified her, Hakon recognized the signs, though he had never seen a Su before, only heard stories. Her hands were webbed, and the skin on her hands appeared to be covered with small white ripples. He couldn’t see her eyes because of the blindfold she wore, but he imagined they must be blue.

  Tadi sat apart from them curled against his ziff. Somehow, against all odds, the animal found his way back to Tadi. “Isn’t Ziff amazing?” the injured boy had told Hakon. Apparently he hadn’t been very creative when naming the wolfdog. Tadi leaned against him now, one arm holding his head tightly, like he was the last link to home. He had finally put away his bow and arrow when Skeet convinced him he didn’t intend to kill him, yet.

  Skeet had said upon their return, “If I find out it was your family that killed my father and my sisters, all of you will die by this sword.”

  Tadi only nodded solemnly.

  From that tense moment, Skeet had kept busy. He was sitting on a rock, higher up, beside the waterfall with his knife. He was carving each of the names of the dead. The names became bolder and bolder, scratched white against the black rock.

  Hakon found himself paralyzed by grief and indecision. His furs and skins were covered in blood, so he had put them in the river, weighed down by rocks, hoping the cold water would draw his brothers’ and enemies’ blood out. He kept staring at the blood on his axe and dagger. It was dried and flaky now. He should clean it, he knew, but rinsing his clothes was hard enough. He was realizing the rest of the mission was up to him. Skeet and Tadi were still sworn to him, and they relied on him. In some ways, he wished he were alone. When he was young and had journeyed on his Survival, the terror of being alone in the wilderness was his and his alone. He had overcome that fear. Up to this point, Hakon had always thought of himself cool under pressure, a man able to adjust in the present.

  But he had never had his entire family slaughtered before his eyes.

  He didn’t know where to direct his anger. He couldn’t blame the Alem for this murder, not like he could for his mother’s. That hatred had been slow and seething for a long time. This was like a fresh flare, a spark that popped out of the fire and seared an exposed hand. Now he hated his own—the Terra—and their betrayal and infighting. He was reminded of the old philosophy taught among the guardians. The Terra were punished by the Master for their ways before the conquerors. This was the reason they were driven into the forest, the reason for their sufferings. For the first time, Hakon thought it was right for the Master to punish his own people.

  He had been raised to believe that the Terra were holy, blessed by this land, made strong by it. The Alem were a cruel and tyrannical race. He had been special to be free of them. But now, he suspected all men were made of evil, whether they were Terra, Alem, or the traitorous Su.

  But Hakon didn’t have the energy of anger that Skeet had. It was too exhausting to hate everyone else. So he directed his anger toward one man. Himself.

  His entire tribe had believed in him and his mission, and they had all died for it. He wondered what it mattered now—his destiny. His duty.


  He looked up again to find the Su girl standing over him. How had she gotten there so quietly?

  “Yes?” he asked, breaking the long–held silence among them.

  “I must tell you, your friend is disfiguring a holy place,” she said quietly. “He will have to repay.”

  “The Su do not own these waters or these rocks.”

  “No, the Alem do. But they are still holy.”

  Hakon stood, facing the girl. She cocked her head to the side and then turned again, so she was facing him. “Listen, Su…”

  “Lanikai. Or you may call me Kai.”

  “Kai, my brother is carving the names of the dead. So if this place were not already holy, he is now making it more so.”

  “Hm.” Kai paused. “I am charged to protect these waters. You may repay me and, therefore, the honor of the Su by letting me accompany you.”

  “Of course not,” Hakon said, a little too loudly. Skeet turned to watch, and Tadi stirred beside Ziff. “The Su are traitors and the lapdogs for the Alem. We have no reason to trust you.”

  “I have gifted you my name!” The horse behind her snorted as if too agree.

  Skeet called from his rock. “Why do you wish to accompany us? You don’t know where we are going.”

  “I am a traveler. A collector of places, you could say. I am done collecting these holy waters, and another protector will take my place, so now I wish to go elsewhere. Besides, it is dangerous for a blind girl to be alone.”

  Skeet looked away and ported down from his rock, landing near Kai and Hakon. “As you said. It is dangerous. How can you be sure to trust us?”

  “You are men of your word,” she said simply. “You could have killed the boy while he slept defenseless. You did not.”

  Tadi stood up. “I like her. Let her come along.”

  Hakon glanced at Skeet, who shook his head. “No,” Skeet said. Kai didn’t look surprised or disappointed but remained where she stood.

  “Skeet?” Hakon gestured for Skeet to accompany him. “May we talk?”

  Tadi zipped in between them. “I am your sworn third, Hakon. I should hear what you discuss if it concerns your mission.”