The King's Daughters

by Nathalie Mallet

  "Yes, my lord," Milo answered from my right.

  I turned left, where the sound came from. For a second I thought I saw a woman staring at me. But when I looked closer I saw nothing there but foliage. Still I could swear I'd caught a glimpse of someone: a pale-faced girl with mousy brown hair, rather plain looking despite her striking green eyes.

  My curiosity piqued yet again; I walked toward the area where I thought I had seen her. Cutting through a thick groundcover of fern, I left this artificial jungle and entered a rose garden. A heady tea scent choked the air; it was so powerful that it was nauseating. I tried taking shallow breaths while gazing at the roses. They came in all colors, varieties, and forms. This was a stunning collection. As I was admiring the shrubs, I noticed that the one growing beside the pathway had a broken, dangling branch. This seemed out of place in this otherwise perfectly manicured garden. Once I got closer to the shrub, I saw a fluff of brown fur stuck in its thorns. I heard a rustling of leaves behind me; I turned and watched Milo emerge from the bushes.

  "There you are," he said, joining me by the rose shrubs. "What's that—brown hair?"

  "You think it could belong to one of the king's hounds?" I whispered, rolling the fur between my fingers.

  Milo kneeled down a short distance from me. "My lord, by the size of these tracks it would have to be a very big hound."

  I moved to Milo's side and looked down. "LORD!" I exclaimed upon seeing the imprint; it was twice the size of my foot. "What animal can make such a print?"

  "A big nasty one," Milo ventured before inspecting the rest of the area. "My lord, I see another track over there."

  We both rushed to it. This new imprint was made in softer soil, therefore it was clearer.

  Milo placed his hand beside the print. "Look at those claw marks. They are as long as my fingers. What monster is this?"

  "I don't know, but if we follow its tracks we might discover clues about its nature."

  A brief search uncovered a third track, then a fourth farther away. However, we failed to find a fifth one.

  "My lord, come see this!"

  "You found a track, Milo?"

  "No, I found a flower garden."

  Quickly passing through the bushes where I had been seeking tracks, I joined Milo. In front of us was a neatly arranged little garden. For most people, it probably looked like any common flower garden, but to my expert eyes it was far more than that.

  "This is an herbalist's garden," I said, eyes roaming over the vast selection of medicinal herbs growing here: caraway, chamomile, rosemary, and sage, to name a few. This garden contained all the ingredients needed to make cures for a broad variety of ailments. However, some of these herbs were also used to make magical potions and spells. A beautiful stem of mauve flowers captured my attention. Or to make poison. I shook my head in disbelief. The king had made such a scene over my almonds, and all this time he had true poison growing inside his keep.

  I pointed out the plant to Milo. "See that flower at the back."

  "Yes. Pretty."

  "Indeed. But also deadly. It's commonly called foxglove. Its true name is digitalis; its essence has a sweet sugary taste that if added to desserts or to sweeten tea is undetectable . . . and mortal."

  "Could the flower be grown just for its beauty?" Milo asked.

  "In a different garden I could believe that. In this one—no. Whoever planted this garden only chose useful plants. And as far as I know digitalis's only use is to make poison."

  "Maybe we should warn someone about this, my. . . . " Milo's words were buried by the flapping sound of a hundred wings, as all the birds in the conservatory took flight at once. When the birds finally settled down a loud BANG rang throughout the conservatory, scaring the birds once more.

  "Right in front! That way!" I pointed in the direction where the sound had come from.

  BANG. BANG.

  We dashed ahead.

  BANG-BANG-BANG.

  I ran through bushes and across flowerbeds.

  BANG.

  The sound was louder. As I pushed through a clump of young palm trees, a cold breeze struck me, sending shivers down my spine. When I finally came out from among the palms I saw that the conservatory's exit door was beating in the wind. BANG. BANG-BANG.

  Pulling up next to me, Milo pointed toward the left wall. "There, my lord!"

  Through the thick vine partly covering the glass, I saw the shadow of a silhouette running outside. In the blink of an eye, I was out of the conservatory and knee-deep in the snow. I looked around, seeking the fleeting silhouette, but saw no one. I saw tracks however, dozens of tracks, old and fresh all intercrossing one another.

  "Where did it go?" Milo asked once he had safely closed the conservatory's door and joined me.

  "I don't know." I looked at the tracks again. Some went toward the castle's garden door while others wandered further down the garden and disappeared behind a tall hedge of evergreen. "Milo, follow those tracks to the castle. I'll take these."

  Milo obeyed without protest.

  Plowing through the snow, I studied the tracks as I advanced. Something huge had come through here a while ago. But what exactly, I couldn't tell. The tracks were too old to be read clearly.

  As the tall hedge of evergreen grew nearer, I felt a strange feeling deep inside my gut. It was as though a hand was gently tugging at my entrails. I stopped walking and hastily unsheathed my sword.

  Moving as swiftly as possible in this deep snow, I passed around to the other side of the hedge. A second hedge, running parallel to the one I had just passed, rose right in front of me. Upon seeing it, I knew that I now stood at the mouth of a long corridor of evergreen. The tugging in my gut intensified. My eyes raced to the opposite end of this green alley. The two barbarians stood there, staring at me. Taken aback by their unexpected presence, I froze. So did they, becoming as still as two fur-clad statues.

  "Stay there!" I ordered, rushing toward them. To my surprise, they obeyed and remained motionless. I was halfway down the alley when the barbarians broke their stillness and passed behind the second hedge, disappearing from my sight.

  "Wait!" I shouted. "Wait!" I tried running, but it was impossible. The snow was too deep and too heavy; I was exhausted in no time. I cursed the hedge for being so tall. Damnation! Hedges should be waist high at best. Not taller than men. "Can't these people do anything right?" I grumbled. After an arduous trek through heavy wet snow, I finally reached the end of the alley. Of course by then the pair was gone. All that remained of them were tracks in the snow vanishing into the dark forest circling the castle. Feeling frustrated, I stayed there staring at the forest's somber mass until my feet were numb with cold.

  I was about to return to the castle when I felt that tugging at my guts again. It was stronger this time, more insistent, painful even. Clutching my belly, I turned toward the forest. The pain immediately subsided, replaced by the gentle tugging I had first experienced. Then it too stopped.

  Gasping heavily, I scanned the forest's edge, seeking the barbarian pair. This was their doing, I was certain of it. And this certitude went beyond a simple gut feeling. I had better find out who they were and why they were here. With this in mind, I headed in the direction of the castle.

  I found Milo waiting for me at the garden door. He looked anxious and kept motioning for me to walk faster while dancing from foot to foot.

  "What now?" I hissed under my breath, knowing that it could only mean bad news.

  "My lord, I'm glad to see you returning. Have you found new clues?"

  "I'm not sure what I found, Milo," I replied with a peek over my shoulder. "What about your tracks?"

  "I was able to follow them inside the castle. It was easy because the melting snow left a trail of water. Unfortunately, it dried up a short distance between the throne room and the royal wing. After that I couldn't tell which way it went."

  "Interesting."

  "My lord, on my way back here I encountered Princess Eva."

&nb
sp; My heart leapt up right into my throat. "Where? Is she around? How is she? Tell me! Tell me everything!"

  "She was looking for you, my lord. Princess Eva seemed well enough, although I must say that she appeared nervous and a bit sad to me. Anyhow, she charged me with this message concerning the coming ball."

  "Yes, tell!"

  "This ball is a sort of gathering, a celebration. She said that she will meet you there. But until then, she demands that you be patient and also that you prepare yourself for the ball. Apparently there will be dancing involved."

  I frowned. "Dancers, you mean."

  Milo winced. "Errr . . . from what I gathered you, my lord, will be expected to dance."

  "WHAT—NO! You must be mistaken."

  Milo shook his head. "I fear not, my lord."

  "But—but Telfarian men don't dance. It's not proper for a man to dance."

  "My lord, this isn't Telfar."

  I sighed. Right.

  Chapter Five

  I couldn't sleep that night because my mind was buzzing with so many thoughts, it was like a beehive in midsummer. Three days, only three days left before the ball. Three days until I'd see Eva. Only three days to learn how to dance.

  I will make a spectacle of myself. Humiliate myself. Ridicule myself beyond repair this time. I knew it. This thought tormented me so that I spent the entire night pacing around the room, and as a result, once daylight filtered through the colored glass of my window, I felt drained of all energy.

  "Milo!" I called.

  No answer came.

  "Milo, can you boil water?"

  Nothing.

  Throwing a kaftan over my shoulders, I shuffled my feet to the receiving room. It was empty. I checked Milo's room. Nobody there. I was returning to the receiving room when Milo came through the door carrying an armful of firewood.

  "You know you're not allowed to go out alone. Why do you persist in disobeying me?"

  Milo lowered his head until his face disappeared behind his pile of firewood. "I . . . I know, but I cannot let the fire die, my lord. I fear we'd freeze if it went out. Or worse, catch some horrible affliction of the lungs."

  I sighed. I couldn't really argue with that. I had heard too much coughing since I'd arrived here to question Milo's logic. "Very well then, if you must go out, go. But be careful when you do so."

  "Yes, my lord."

  I sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace and watched Milo unload his wood and put water to boil. My attention then traveled to the book resting on the side table, a manual of Sorvinkian dance Milo had fetched last night from the castle's meager library. I picked up the book and flipped through its pages.

  "Do you wish to try the dancing steps again, my lord."

  "Hell no!" I exclaimed. "Our last attempt at replicating these footsteps was enough for me. We'll only end up tangling ourselves in our own feet again and tumbling on our faces. I've got enough bruises as it is." Frustrated, I chucked the dance manual on the floor. "This document is useless. What I need is a teacher. I see no other way to learn these cursed dances."

  "Who, my lord?"

  I stayed silent. I knew who I should approach for this. I just didn't like the idea of asking for a favor. I'd never liked doing so, too many repercussions. And knowing who I needed to ask made the task ten times worse. "I thought about it all night, and sadly, I came to only one conclusion. (Sigh) I will have to ask Prince Diego to teach me how to dance."

  Milo let out a gasp of horror. "The dandy! My lord isn't serious?"

  "Deadly so. I see no other option. Plus, he's the only person here who has offered to help me. There is no one else."

  "Please, my lord, you must rethink this decision. This prince . . . How can I put this?" Milo paused, a sudden blush colored his cheeks. Nervously wringing the edge of his tunic, he continued, "This prince has a very . . . questionable reputation. I've heard such unsavory tales about him on my outings. I think you shou—"

  "MILO!" I snapped. "Do not judge a man by the rumors spread about him. I've once been the subject of false rumors myself. So I don't care to hear the rambling gossips of servants or guards. You hear me."

  Milo shrunk down on himself as if he was afraid I would strike him. Perhaps I'd spoken too harshly. Then again, I couldn't suffer rumors. Milo needed to learn this. Truth be told, my decision to seek Prince Diego's help had been hard enough to make all by itself. The last thing I needed was to have Milo's doubts added to mine.

  "I suppose we should bring him a gift. What do you suggest we give him, Milo?"

  Looking less than enthusiastic, Milo shrugged. "I don't know. Do we have anything lacy?"

  I frowned at him. "Milo."

  "A kaftan would be appropriate. He seemed to have liked yours very much. Dandies are known for their fondness for clothing . . . so I was told."

  "It's settled then. Choose one. I'll dress, then we'll try finding his room."

  * * *

  Time was now precious to me, so I didn't lose any wandering through the castle, which was an impossible maze, looking for Prince Diego. Instead, I asked a guard to guide us there.

  Carrying a small cedar chest containing our gift, Milo slowly shuffled his feet behind me with the enthusiasm of someone being led to the gallows. He was determined to make his disapproval of my decision to seek out Prince Diego's help as apparent as possible.

  Ignoring him, I set my sight on the path ahead. The section of the castle we were entering was new to me. Its hallways were broad and well lit; paintings held within large gilded frames adorned the walls. Tables made of exotic woods were placed along the way, displaying ornate vases and silver candelabras. The floor was a shiny mirror of black marble—a far cry from the roughly cut granite of my rooms.

  "What is this area? Does it have a name?" I asked the guard.

  "Not really. We just call it the new wing."

  "Besides Prince Diego, who else has their apartments here?

  "The king's nephew. His close friends."

  "Ah, Lars."

  "We're here, Your Highness," the guard announced, indicating the gilded door on our right.

  "Thank you." I waited for the guard to be out of sight before raising my fist to knock.

  "My lord, please, we can still—"

  "Enough, Milo!" Taking a deep breath, I knocked. I waited a moment. As no answer came I knocked again.

  "Prince Diego!" I called. Perhaps he's not there, I thought with some relief. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe coming here was a mistake.

  I was about to leave when I heard laughter coming from inside the room. I knocked again, louder this time.

  The laughter died, replaced by the sound of approaching footsteps. The door swung open and Prince Diego stood at the entrance. Bare-chested and all disheveled, he stared at us with a bemused expression while holding on to his unbuttoned pantaloon, so it wouldn't drop to the floor.

  "Prince Amir! What a surprise. I'm—"

  Just then a half-naked young lady with long chestnut hair, and an armful of clothes tightly clutched against her body, dashed out of the room. She ran down the corridor and disappeared behind the bend.

  I couldn't say I was surprised that he was entertaining, however, the type of company he entertained wasn't at all what I had expected. Somehow this discovery only increased my suspicion toward this foreign prince.

  "I apologize for having disrupted your . . . meeting," I said with a little bow.

  One of Prince Diego's eyebrows rose slightly. "Please, do not worry about it. In this cursed place, one must amuse oneself whenever possible. Distractions are somewhat slim here." With a subjective glance to Milo, he added, "One is sometimes forced to make due with what's available." On these words, he gestured for us to come in. "Excuse the disorder of my room. I've been otherwise occupied."

  Nodding politely, I entered his room. Even though the place was spacious, it seemed small because of the insane quantity of furniture, cushions, artworks, mirrors encumbering it. No space had been left unoccupie
d; no decorating style had been forgotten either. This place was a mismatch of everything beautiful, rare or gilded. There were Sorelian rosewood benches, Farrellian tapestries, a pair of Atilian gilded chairs. I even spotted a blue enameled Telfarian urn.

  "I see that you fancy Telfarian pottery."

  "How could I not? Its lines are exquisite in their suppleness. Its glaze flawless. Your people have impeccable taste." His eyes wandered along the length of my body.

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to control my expression and not let the distaste I felt for this man's appalling behavior expose itself upon my face. Confident that my expression had remained neutral and did not display any hint of my true feelings, I extended a hand toward Milo and said, "How fortunate. I brought you a Telfarian gift."

  Prince Diego eagerly approached Milo, and, to my dismay, he ran his fingers through the young eunuch's hair.

  Milo winced, yet he stayed motionless with the cedar chest held firmly in front of him.

  "What a superb gift. You certainly know my taste, Prince Amir." Prince Diego's hand glided down Milo's cheek to his smooth, beardless jaw and chin, where his hand lingered. "Soft as a sin. He's a real beauty."

  "My servant isn't the gift. The chest and its contents are."

  "Oooh, pity." Prince Diego lifted the chest lid and pulled out the kaftan that was inside. Milo had chosen a golden-yellow silk kaftan embellished with black arabesque and black fur.

  "Fit for a prince, there are no better words to describe your gift," Prince Diego said, wrapping the garment around his shoulders. "I adore it. However, I'm rather puzzled by this spontaneous act of generosity. Will you enlighten me on its purpose, please?"