by K. M. Shea
“The sovereign prince—and heir apparent—to Torrens isn’t a thief with loose and twisted morals who goes around taking what isn’t his, and you didn’t invite us here on a pretext all so you could steal your own jewel?” Lis asked.
“Please, we owe you an explanation.” King Albion turned to his son. “Channing?”
Channing held a hand to his wound and stared at the ground.
“Right. Well then.” King Albion turned back around to face Lis and Vorah. “When we said the Pea of Primeorder is being targeted, it was the truth. The break-ins, the bandits, all of that was real. Given the Pea’s power, we know we cannot let it fall into the wrong hands. We asked the Veneno Conclave for aid, but they said since the Pea of Primeorder is considered a national treasure, they couldn’t get involved. So we had a very powerful weapon sitting in our castle, and as word continued to spread, it became obvious to us that the attacks and robberies were only going to get worse.” He paused to take a breath and wrung his hands.
“We’re listening,” Lis said.
“The only way we could think of buying ourselves some time was to have the jewel purposely stolen from us. Channing really is Apex—which is frankly another tale to tell at a different time. We realized if he publicly stole it, the less-than-savory folk who were so keen on taking it would give up, and we could safely return it to the vault with no one the wiser,” King Albion said.
“Stealing the Pea had to be believable,” Channing said, speaking up. Finally. “We needed a warrior of renown to guard it, so when it was taken, no one would suspect an act.”
“It was a win-win situation!” King Albion said brightly. “You would still receive your fee for the contract, the Pea would be safe once Apex stole it, and we wouldn’t have to fear its capture anymore.”
“Win-win?” Lis raised an eyebrow. “That’s hardly true when Vorah and I would pay the price for your little stunt.”
“Eh?” King Albion said.
“We must have bad luck, Master, to be the lucky recipients of this contract,” Vorah said. “Or maybe we angered them at some point?”
Channing cocked his head. “I beg your pardon?”
“If Vorah and I had been as unskilled as you obviously believe us to be, and Channing succeeded in stealing the gem, our reputation as warriors would have been tarnished,” Lis said.
“Not at all—we weren’t going to be upset with you. Obviously,” King Albion protested.
“Doesn’t matter,” Vorah piped in. “The rest of the Continent would see our ineptness—never knowing we weren’t in a fair fight from the beginning.” Vorah narrowed her eyes at Channing, and her voice was colored with a rare note of anger. “Serves you right that we beat you—even though you knew all our plans and defensive maneuvers.”
“We should have gone with less-skilled warriors,” King Albion admitted. When Lis and Vorah glared at him he tried to give them a grimacing smile. “What I mean to say is…we played this rather poorly and apologize.”
The king glanced over at his wife, who was still settled in her armchair. “Theodora, please help us explain to these lovely warriors.”
Queen Theodora smiled. “Why should I, when the two of you have so perfectly bungled this yourselves?”
Channing scuffed his foot on a rug and leaned more heavily on the armchair.
His wound must be bothering him. Good, Lis thought rather spitefully.
“Theodora, please?” King Albion asked.
The queen sighed. “Very well. What my husband and son are trying to say, dears, is that they are sorry. They didn’t realize the impact this mad plan would have on you or your reputations. Neither my husband nor Channing have any desire to hurt you—quite the opposite—which is why I was never in favor of this particular part of the plan to begin with.”
Lis and Vorah didn’t move from their fortified positions, but they did relax slightly. It doesn’t seem like they mean us ill—though this was still a crooked, dishonorable ploy. I suppose I should have expected such a low-blow from royals. But I allowed myself to be swindled by their kind smiles and warm greeting.
Lis glanced at Channing, whose paling complexion was highlighted by the golden light of the fire. “He was stabbed,” she said, unwilling to bestow upon him the courtesy and decorum of his name and title. “He should have the wound dressed.”
Channing blinked and flicked his eyes in Lis’ direction.
She ignored him and stared at the King and Queen.
“Go ahead, son,” King Albion said before returning his attention to Lis and Vorah. “Warriors, I apologize. We…I see the error in my plan.” He sighed. “I suppose I merely felt backed into a corner without an ally to turn to.” He rubbed his face, then offered them a tired smile. “I do hope that despite the circumstances, you will at least spend the night.”
Lis scowled. “We will stay for the duration of our contract.”
King Albion brightened. “Really?”
“Sure,” Vorah said. “We honor our word. Or at least Lis does.” Her voice lacked guile of any sort, but the comment was as efficiently used as a dagger stabbed between the ribs.
“Though we trust we will not receive another visit from Apex and will instead concentrate on defending the Pea of Primeorder from the bandits and other forces that concern you so?” Lis asked, embracing the wryness in her voice.
“You have our promise,” King Albion assured her.
Lis mutely turned to Channing.
The prince bowed his head. “We will rely on you for the jewel’s protection and use this time to reformulate a plan.”
“We trust it will be so. If you will excuse us, Your Majesties. Your Highness.” Lis bowed to the monarchs before she swept from the library, the still-there simmering anger making her march a little louder than necessary.
Vorah closed the door behind them, then joined Lis in trotting down the hallway. “I can only imagine what new scheme they’ll come up with,” she muttered.
“Was it a mistake to stay?” Lis asked.
“Could you really break your word and live with it?” Vorah asked.
“If you thought they intended to attack us or do something equally as dangerous.”
Vorah snaked her arm through Lis’, joining them at the elbow. “In that case, rest easy. They were rather sheepish, and their regret was real. Prince Channing especially so.”
Lis frowned. “As Apex, he’s done worse things he should regret more.”
Vorah squeezed her elbow. “Give it time,” she said. “I’m still on duty when we get back to our room?”
“No.” Lis shook her head. “I’m awake for the day; I’ll stay up.”
“Awake for the day? It must be three in the morning!”
“Perhaps, but after that confrontation, I’m not sleeping anytime soon,” Lis said.
Vorah shrugged. “If you say so. Thanks for letting me rest, Master!”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Okay, Boss!”
A butterfly landed on a flower near Lis’ hand.
She watched it, a small smile budding as the breeze rustled a fragrant lilac bush. When the butterfly moved on, Lis laid down on the stone bench and closed her eyes.
Vorah had the Pea of Primeorder. It was her shift, so she had taken it with her when she went to the stable to check on their temperamental mares.
As it really was wisest for them to stay together as much as possible—particularly given their employer’s less-than-trustworthy actions—Lis reveled in the brief moment of quiet.
She faced the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun. But all her joy drained from her when she heard footsteps.
She peeled her eyes open and shot upright, holding in a sigh when she saw Prince Channing standing at the entrance of the small flower garden.
“Lisheva,” he said.
Lis stood only long enough to bow. “Your Highness.”
Instead of walking away as she thought he would, Prince Channing ambled down one of the brick paths, drawi
ng closer.
Lis watched him with a raised eyebrow.
He came to a stop just in front of her, nodded at his feet, then raised his eyes to meet her gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”
Lis almost squinted up at him in her surprise but masked it by shifting on the bench. “Oh?”
“I did not think through the repercussions of our…plan,” Prince Channing said. “I did not take into account how it would affect you, and I am very sorry for it. You are a warrior I respect.”
This time she couldn’t hold back her squint as she tried to peer past the earnest expression in his gold-brown eyes. “If you respect me, why did you ask Vorah and me to come here and be your scapegoats?”
Prince Channing rubbed the back of his neck for several long moments. Lis had almost given up on his reply when he abruptly answered. “Because I wanted to meet you. I’ve seen quite a bit of you in my…travels. You are,” he paused, “courageous, strong, and yet kind.”
The answer surprised Lis and made her pause. “Why do you steal?” the question fell from Lis’ lips before she had a chance to clamp her mouth shut. Oh, that was brilliant. Ask the Prince of Torrens in broad daylight why he is the legendary thief Apex. A fool-proof way to get an answer!
Prince Channing nodded slowly. “May I sit?” he asked.
Why is he asking me? It’s his bench! Lis moved to stand, but Prince Channing plopped down next to her before she could move and stretched his long legs out. (They were angled enough that Lis would have to hop awkwardly to get off the bench.)
“There are national treasures—legacies, really—of Torrens that have been lost and stolen over the years,” Prince Channing said. “It happens to every country. A royal sells off a piece of the crown jewels without telling anyone to settle debts; a thief breaks in and manages to steal a treasure of real worth…but some of Torrens’ most precious and meaningful artifacts were long thought lost, until I received word that some of them were being sold on the black market.”
Lis nodded slowly. “I have heard of such a thing. Baris is something of a hotbed of magical artifacts, tomes, and such—which is why we have such strict laws on our exports, to strangle the possibility of a black market developing.”
Prince Channing gripped the edge of the bench. “Torrens’ is not the only country whose artifacts have ended up there. Rumor has it one of the weapons of the Magic Knights of Sole and a dagger of some importance to Verglas once passed through as well. But while other countries have the means to reclaim their treasures, we do not.”
“You’re saying you can’t afford them?” Lis asked.
Prince Channing nodded. “Though our people prosper, as a country we are not rich or particularly affluent. Erlauf has its military might; all elven exports pass through Farset; Sole has old money among its nobility; Loire is the strongest country…in Torrens we have happy citizens.”
Lis would have scowled at the prince if not for the furrow of his brow. “Some would say happy citizens are the greatest treasure of all,” she said—perhaps a little tartly.
“They are,” Prince Channing agreed. “Which is why we cannot raise taxes. I cannot, in good faith, raise them beyond what my people can readily pay.”
“Ahhh, yes. Stealing is the far more honorable thing to do.” Lis nodded sagely.
“What else can we do?” Prince Channing asked.
She paused. “What do you mean?”
“If we cannot buy them outright, how else are we to reclaim the treasures of our country?” Though it sounded like a challenge due to his deep voice, when he gazed at Lis, his expression was open.
Lis took a few moments to carefully consider her reply and formulate it without sounding offensive. “I am a warrior, not a scholar who is knowledgeable of such things…” she said cautiously. “But couldn’t you work to develop Torrens so it has its own specialty among the other nations?”
“But what could it be?” Prince Channing asked. “We haven’t the funds to create something like a university or to devote to schooling. We are among the most peaceful of nations and prosper with our harvests, but those goods are seasonal and perishable. They provide a good income for our citizens, but we can’t expand much beyond that.”
Thinking of all the beautiful instruments in the library, Lis thoughtfully peered up at the sky. “What about music?”
“Music?” Prince Channing asked, sounding confused.
“Music—and instruments.” She nodded at the palace. “You have more harps, violins, and instruments in your library than I have seen in the sum of my life.”
“Music is something Torrens has always had—it’s always been something our citizens have embraced. I don’t know if it is because most of our people are farmers, or simply tradition.”
“Can you not take it farther than simple enjoyment?” Lis asked. “Could you afford to hire those who create instruments, who write music and give them the freedom to truly pursue it?”
“Perhaps…” Prince Channing stood and paced back and forth. “We would do better to focus on instruments at the beginning. Our people already have the base knowledge. If we can improve on what we have and focus more on making each instrument a piece of art…and strive to reliably create the purest sound…. We could brand Torrens instruments as luxury pieces—much the way elven bows are viewed.”
He nodded to himself and stopped pacing, automatically taking up his military stance with his hands behind his back. “Once Torrens is known for their instruments, we can attract other musicians and innovate, and then teach them, so Torrens-trained minstrels are more renown. Then we could finally tackle music itself—which would likely be the hardest to truly be known for given that each culture has its own preferences. But if we could convince Loire of our artistry, the other nations would fall in line under their example.”
Lis only understood about half of what Channing was saying, but she could tell he was excited.
When he finally stopped his intellectual monologue, he turned to Lis. “Your counsel is wise, Lisheva.”
Lis shrugged. “If you have grown up in such a musically inclined country, I imagine it is something like trying to see the forest through the trees. You aren’t aware of the lower standard of instruments in other countries.”
Prince Channing smiled—his handsome one that made his eyes glow.
“But this is a long-lasting plan,” Lis said. “It will take time to build up the revenue so you can afford to buy back Torrens’ treasures.”
“And that is a bad thing?”
“Given how thorough you and King Albion appear to be in your thinking, I was unsure if everything you’ve stated actually appeals to you,” Lis said dryly.
Prince Channing crouched in front of her, his smile mellowing as the breeze ruffled his hair. “Your words strike true, for we really have given you a poor picture of our honor. I apologize.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Is there no way I can prove my integrity?”
Why does he care what I think of his honor? Lis licked her lips and replied on impulse. “Stop stealing.”
Channing nodded slowly, then stood. “Very well. From today hence, I shall cease acting as Apex and will no longer pilfer our lost treasures.”
Lis blinked up at him, unsure if she was more shocked that he had made the promise or that she actually believed him.
But the Torrens royal family is an odd sort. There are very few nobles who would be as upset as he is that I had such a low opinion of him. And there are even fewer members of nobility—in any country—who would earnestly ask a warrior for advice.
“I am glad to hear you say so,” Lis said perhaps a little awkwardly. (It was hard not to be awkward when Channing watched her with his intense, glittering eyes.) She hesitated. “Will your parents be upset?”
Channing shrugged. “Mother always hated it, and while Father supported my actions, they did give him anxiety.”
Lis snorted. “I imagine so. His only heir running around as a thief—it’s a wonder he didn’t rip all his
hair out and turn bald.” She thought she had muttered it at a quiet enough volume, but nearly jumped from her seat on the bench when Prince Channing chuckled.
It sounded almost like the chuff of a tiger—deep, guttural, and short, but pleasant at the same time.
Lis smiled hesitatingly at the sound and vaguely wondered if it was acceptable to laugh with a prince.
“Thank you for your time, Lis.” Channing swapped his smile for a blank face rather quickly, but Lis could still see the warmth in his unusually colored eyes. “I hope to see you again soon.”
He was off, striding from the gardens, before Lis could bow.
Lis watched him, her eyes lingering on the side he still favored—for it had only been three days since Vorah had partially stabbed him.
Perhaps the royal family is kinder than I thought? Though I am not so simple as to be entirely converted after one conversation. But Prince Channing is unexpectedly…thoughtful.
She shrugged and once again splayed out over the bench, intent on enjoying her few remaining minutes off duty as she listened to the breeze play in the garden.
Chapter 6
Lis briefly rested her fingers on her belt pouch that contained the Pea of Primeorder. Reassured by its weight, she returned her attention to Vorah, who strolled at her side.
“We have ten days left on our contract.” Vorah tugged on the neckline of her leather doublet. (Both she and Lis had opted for maneuverability for the day and had thus swapped their chainmail for their light—but far more pliable—leathers.) “What will we do next?”
Lis tied her hair back with a leather cord, containing her curly hair behind her. “They might offer to renew our contract.”
“Would you agree to it?” Vorah asked.
“I don’t know.” Lis blinked as they left the shade of the castle and stepped into the courtyard. “I was hoping you might have something to say about the matter.” She squinted in the bright light, waiting impatiently for her eyes to adjust.
“They’ve kept their word,” Vorah said. “Since that night they’ve worked tirelessly on improving their castle security.”
