The King's Daughters

by Nathalie Mallet

  The baron's smile broadened. "Young man, if I wanted the throne I could take the throne. I control the army; I have the support and love of the population. And with the unpopular rulings the king's made recently, I could successfully overthrow him if I wanted to."

  I frowned, surprised by the candidness of his reply. "Why don't you then?"

  "Such an act, no matter how swift and successful it may be, would weaken the Empire; scar it for years to come. And to do it now would be disastrous. With the threat of an Anchin invasion looming over us, I have to place the good of the country ahead of my personal ambitions." Squaring his shoulders and raising his chin, the baron took a stoic pose. "It is my duty, not as a noble or an officer, but as a Sorvinkian. As such I cannot do anything that would jeopardize the motherland's safety."

  "But you can kidnap princesses and wish the heir's death."

  "Kidnap princesses! Why would I do such a senseless thing? I have three sons, why would I deprive them of potential mates. Prince Amir, you are looking at the wrong person. I have nothing to do with those crimes. As for the heir, I admit that I did wish his death. But as far as I know, wishing is not a crime."

  The man had an answer for everything it seemed. I believed none of them though. "Well, I won't apologize for breaking your wish and saving Lars. Looks like he's going to be king after all."

  The baron lowered a gaze dripping with contempt toward Lars, his bushy eyebrows furrowed, and his upper lip rose exposing his teeth in a sneer of loathing. "Not necessarily. There could still be hope for Sorvinka's future. Things have changed. Maybe now that the king is getting remarried, to a Sorvinkian woman this time, the situation will improve. Perhaps our king will finally have a son this time. If nothing else, the countess will see that our customs, cults, and traditions are reinstated and respected. At least the gods will be pleased." Looking rather satisfied about it himself, Baron Molotoff saluted us then exited the room with his group.

  Moments later, the room became overcrowded with so many physicians, valets, and counselors that there was literally no place left for us. So Diego and I decided to return to my rooms.

  "Diego, do you believe what the baron said or do you think he's involved in this?"

  Diego didn't think long before answering. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know."

  "Well, you're helpful!" I said.

  He shrugged. "Sorry, Amir, I'm not good at solving puzzles. When things get too complicated I usually lose interest."

  I smiled. I truly believed that. Just as I believed Diego had nothing to do with this affair. He didn't have the cold, calculated temperament needed to plan such an elaborate plot. He's as innocent as I am. My mind made up, I decided to tell him all I had learned so far, starting with Isabo's innocence, my shal-galt gifts, and the princesses' enchantments. I told him everything . . . even the painful news of Thalia's death.

  Upon hearing this sad news, Diego stopped. "Thalia, she recognized me . . . that's why the bear . . . she stopped." Curling his hands into hard fists, Diego hissed through clenched teeth, "I want that spell caster dead! Amir, promise me that you'll let me put an end to his wretched life."

  "Well, first we must discover who it is." Strangely enough, although my heart kept screaming that it was that devilish baron, my brain said something else: What about the princesses? Why would he need them gone? Girls cannot rule, they pose no threat to him.

  The Baba's words came floating back to the top of my mind: a means to an end. Was destroying the king's family the means or the end? I sighed. The answer was simple. I knew it was.

  "There's something I don't understand, Amir," said Diego.

  "Which is?"

  "You said that both members of the Anchin pair possess that . . . gift you have. So why didn't they realize that Lars was under a spell the moment they touched him, right at the lake. Wasn't he covered in that green algae then?"

  "Huh, I didn't think about that." Looking back at the incident by the lake, I could see Lilloh ripping the sea-hag hair from around Lars's neck. She should have sensed something . . . unless. "Lilloh can sense magic but not spirits and demons. So the sea-hag hair did nothing to her because it belonged to a water spirit. Unfortunately, she got rid of it before Khuan could touch it."

  "All right," Diego said. "What about the spell you just broke, wasn't it on him back then?"

  "Obviously not. Whoever is behind this thought that drowning Lars would be enough. He didn't plan on Khuan and Lilloh bringing him back to life. The spell was placed after, using the sea-hag hair so the illness produced by it would look like a consequence of his dip in the icy water of the lake."

  Diego nodded, yet I could tell something was still bothering him. He cleared his throat. "Drowning him . . . so falling through the ice wasn't an accident then. Fine, I can understand that part, not the rest however. First, where can one get his hands on sea-hag hair? I'm quite sure the creature that owns that hair wouldn't give it up freely. And why kill Lars anyway? Sure, he's a bumbling idiot, but that hardly deserves death."

  I nodded silently. It was useless to speak because I couldn't answer any of those questions. No matter how much thought I put into this matter, I couldn't figure out anything right now. It was like my brain was wrapped in wool. That was so infuriating, I wanted to break something.

  We had reached a corridor junction and stopped to let two maids pass so they could go prepare the banquet hall for the king's wedding announcement. Carrying buckets of water, they hurried down the corridor, leaving a trail of droplets behind. As I noticed the glistening trail of water, something in my mind clicked and part of the fog surrounding this riddle suddenly dissipated. I could see part of the solution. I thought I knew the end. Now all I needed was to find who'd engineered it.

  "Change of plan, Diego. Follow me. We have no time to waste."

  Chapter

  Twenty-three

  Where are we going in such a hurry?" Diego huffed, trotting behind me.

  "To find someone who can give us information on Sorvinkian deities."

  "Why? Are we going to battle a god?"

  "No. Its disciples, a grand priest maybe. I'm not sure." I sighed. What if I was wrong? What if I failed again? Stop! I ordered myself. No more doubts, stop it! I took a deep breath and continued, "Anyway, I think it might be linked to water."

  "There are at least five Sorvinkian water deities that I know of. Perhaps if you can be more specific."

  "Well, I think it is symbolized by a giant sea monster."

  "A giant sea monster, uh?"

  "You know which god that is?"

  Diego shrugged. "I have a vague recollection of having heard of it. Nothing useful comes to mind though."

  "I was thinking of asking Milo's servant friends to tell me about their gods. To my knowledge, no one knows more about gods than servants."

  Diego nodded in agreement. "Good idea. Actually, I personally know a couple of maids who will gladly answer any question I ask them. They might even draw a few pictures for you."

  Something Diego said brought me to an abrupt halt. "A picture! I think there is already one. Come, I'll show it to you."

  I led Diego to the indoor well. I remembered having seen a carving on its stone rim. But the instant the well fell into view I was faced with a new problem. The Point of Power located on the well's rim pulsated with such force it was nauseating. I couldn't get close enough to look at the carving. The waves of energy rushing out of it were just too strong for me to combat.

  Diego on the other hand walked to the well without demonstrating any discomfort. He dusted off the flat stone of the well's rim, looked at the carving, then stared at me. "You said a sea monster. That's not a sea monster."

  "It's not?" I was sure it was. Dumfounded, I tried to recall the carving. I had seen it only once, and very briefly, when Lilloh had placed my hand on the Point of Power. So its image was a little vague in my mind. "Er . . . Diego, isn't it a carving of a giant scaly fish with the face of a man and long hair?"
/>   "Yes."

  "Well, to me, that's the description of a sea monster."

  Diego shook his head. "No. That's the description of Samu. Amir, this is a carving of Samu, the god of running water, seduction, and beauty. It's not a priest we should be looking for, but a priestess. A woman is always at the head of the cult of Samu . . . Oh goodness!" Diego's face became as white as milk.

  "What is it?"

  "The disciples of Samu must all be young and beautiful."

  "All young and beautiful!" I repeated. At once, everything became crystal clear in my mind. "It's Countess Ivana. She's using water as magical conduits." The image of the water pitcher in the princesses' rooms, the bowl of water in Isabo's cell, the lake . . . oh god, the lake. I could see her dropping to her knees. Back then I thought she was praying for us. If she was praying, it wasn't for us. Now I believed she was calling Samu to her aid. I shook my head. Something didn't fit. "The disciples the ghoul talked about were the disciples of Samu. What about the old one? It's not Ivana. So who could it be?"

  "Samu itself maybe," ventured Diego.

  "I don't know . . . I have trouble believing that." Suddenly, I felt confused and unsure of myself. My fondness for Ivana, the kindness she had displayed toward me clouded my judgment and filled my mind with doubts. I looked up at Diego. "I'm not convinced. Perhaps we're moving too fast. Maybe we're wrong about her involvement in this affair. After all, Ivana helped me to enter Eva's room and—"

  "And nearly got you caught by the king," interjected Diego. "Ivana knew the king would rush to Eva's room. She wanted him to discover the two of you in bed together, which would've meant death for you and disownment for Eva. No need changing your beloved princess into a bear after that."

  My jaw dropped. I could've kicked myself for my naïveté, and for having once liked that devious creature. Suddenly nauseous, I closed my eyes. I felt so betrayed and disgusted it was making me sick. How could I have been so naïve, so trusting. I hated myself for it. But I hated Ivana more. My nausea morphed into outrage; I opened my eyes and looked at Diego. "You are right, my friend, she's guilty! We must warn the king before he makes his engagement to her official."

  As we turned to rush to the banquet hall, we found ourselves face-to-face with Countess Ivana's friends. I counted eight disciples, all male. I supposed the female disciples were now busy assisting the countess.

  Diego rushed to my side. "Amir, these are the prayers we saw in Lars' room. They followed us."

  I didn't say a word, I just pulled out my rapier. But before I could step up to meet the advancing enemy, Diego pushed me aside and, screaming like a banshee, charged our attackers.

  Taken aback by Diego's flash attack, the disciples of Samu froze. By the time they realized what was happening, two of them had been struck down by Diego's blade. That awakened the others and they started fighting back. Within moments, they were all over us.

  Parrying blows coming from two different disciples, I found myself being pushed toward the well. My head began spinning. The periphery of my vision darkened. Struck by panic, I threw myself on the floor and rolled toward the bottom of the staircase. One of my attackers dashed after me. Before I could rise to my feet, he tried stabbing me from above. I twisted to the left and simultaneously thrust my rapier under his ribs. Just as he was falling down, I pushed him against his acolyte. They both hit the floor, which gained me a few precious seconds. Leaping to my feet, I managed to climb the first steps of the stairs before my second attacker rushed me again.

  As the action unfolded, I caught glimpses of Diego who was still battling two foes. Then I witnessed an act that was so despicable, so immoral, that it iced my blood. I saw one of Diego's attackers throw himself on my friend's blade. In a last dying effort, the disciple embraced Diego in his arms, holding him tightly in place. At first I was confounded by this behavior, but when the second disciple appeared behind Diego and raised his sword to stab him in the back, I realized the goal of this sacrifice. "Diego, behind you!" I yelled.

  Too late. The sword plunged deep into Diego's back.

  "NOOO!" I shouted, moving toward my friend. A blond disciple stepped in front of me, hindering my sight of Diego and forcing me to concentrate on fighting. I parried, blocked, and thrust, while climbing the steps in reverse.

  A second disciple joined the fight. I recognized him as the one who had stabbed Diego in the back. Now that there were two against me their tactic changed. This wasn't a regular combat anymore, but a sacrificial one. Twice, one of the disciples tried to impale himself on my sword, so his acolyte could finish me while my blade was stuck. To parry this insane maneuver, I constantly had to thrust the side of my blade forward, using it as a barrier between me and them.

  The fight drove us up the stairs, and soon I found myself on the tower's last landing with nowhere to go. When my back hit the stone wall, I knew this was going to be my last stand. Bracing myself, I faced my attackers. Just as I had feared, one of them threw himself on my blade the instant it was pointed outward.

  Spitting blood and baring his teeth in a grimace of agony, he grabbed me by the shoulders, holding me still while his friend approached for the coup de grâce.

  I tried pushing and kicking the disciple off me, but it was to no use. In his last moment, this man was determined to reach his goal. And there was nothing I could do to change it. Pinned between the wall and the dying man, I watched, helpless, as the last disciple raised his sword to my throat.

  Just then I saw a bright metallic flash behind the disciple's head.

  A loud bong-crash rang out in the air, followed by a shower of brass wheels, gears, and wood splinters. The disciple collapsed to the floor. Behind him stood Auguste Ramblais, the alchemist, with the empty wooden frame of his time-device clutched between his hands. He had smashed it on the disciple's head, knocking him out.

  Auguste stared at the remains of his device and shrugged. "The damn thing kept terrible time anyway."

  My attention returned to the dying man still holding on to me. He was blond, young, and as pretty as a girl. I stared straight into his deep blue eyes and said, "Your friend is dead. It's over—release me."

  His eyes widened, and then the spark of life that had animated them slowly extinguished. I felt his grip on me loosening. The disciple slowly slipped to the floor.

  The alchemist kneeled beside the disciple he had struck. "This one isn't dead. Stunned, that's all." He turned the young man over. "I know him . . . I recognize his face. He's one of the pretty countess's friends."

  Auguste's good eye went to the other disciple. "That one too. Prince Amir, why were these noblemen attacking you?"

  "There's no time for long explanations. The king is in danger and Prince Diego . . . Oh lord, Diego!" At the thought of my friend, a visceral fear for him, for his life, ripped through me. I dashed down the stairs at breakneck speed, taking two and often three steps at a time. When I reached the bottom of the stairwell, I looked around for Diego. I found him near the corridor's opening, lying on his side in a pool of blood, moaning. I hurried to him and kneeled down at his side.

  He grabbed my wrist with a bloody hand. "Amir, my friend."

  "Diego, don't speak. Keep your strength."

  A joyless smile stretched Diego's lips. "Thank you for caring." Grinding his teeth, Diego reached out, took his sword, and placed it in my hand. "Give this to Milo—from me. I know he'll use it well."

  "Diego, no. You're still alive. You're young and strong."

  Movement at the foot of the stairs made me look up. Auguste was limping in our direction. He cast one look at Diego, then raised his good eye to me and shook his head.

  "Prince Diego," he said, painfully crouching down.

  "Shhh," Diego hushed. "I'm not in this world for long. Let me speak." Diego's hand became like a steel claw on my wrist. "Amir, I have a favor to ask of you . . . you owe me one."

  "Please ask me anything you want."

  "There's a small bronze box in my blue dresser. Can you
make sure that my father gets it?" Diego smiled. "This is all I ask of you, my friend. Everything else I possess is now yours, Amir. All my treasures, my trinkets too . . . all my possessions are yours."

  "I can't accept."

  "Please, this is my will . . . my last will." Diego moaned. "Mmmm, now leave . . . Go warn the king before it's too late. But be careful, my friend . . . she'll be waiting for you."

  "He's right," said Auguste. "Go. I'll stay with him. Finish what you began. Rid the castle of these people, whoever they are."

  Nodding, I squeezed Diego's hand one last time. So little strength was left in his grip that I feared letting go of it. I feared leaving him. Most of all, I feared this was our last moment together. But I had to leave. Reluctantly, I let go of Diego's hand. To my chagrin, his hand fell limp upon the floor.

  I was about to rise when the alchemist tugged on my kaftan. "Take these. They might come in handy," he said, shoving two fist-sized silver balls into my pocket.

  "What are those?"

  "A new invention of mine. Don't worry, they're easy to use. Light and throw, that's all. Now go."

  I looked at Diego one last time. I will miss you, my friend. Then rising to my feet, I left.

  I was running in the direction of the main corridor when the alchemist shouted at my back, "Light and throw. And don't forget to duck!"

  I paid no mind to him or to his last instruction; my mind was too busy worrying about what awaited me ahead. A priestess . . . and possibly the god she worshiped. I knew how to fight people. But I didn't know how to fight a god—I had no idea how to do that at all. Worse, I wasn't even sure it could be done.

  Chapter

  Twenty-four

  I ran all the way to the banquet hall. When I burst into the vast expanse of the hall, I knew this was going to be a delicate operation.

  Decorated for the occasion, the hall was seeded with giant urns overflowing with huge bouquets of fragrant white flowers. Candelabras and chandeliers were lit throughout the room adding their glow to the flickering flames of the dozens of storm lamps dotting the walls like amber jewels. Already nobles and dignitaries from all over the Empire and beyond were gathered in tight groups everywhere. By the look of it, the hall was almost filled to capacity.