Thief Prince

by Cheree Alsop

  Blood caked the wound that ran from the top of his left shoulder to his mid back on the left side. The blood flowed in a steady trickle from the wound down to his pants. I imagined that it would have grown very uncomfortable during the ride to the cave, and wondered why he hadn't said anything or shown any sign of his injury. Concern filled me at how deep and long it was.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Kenyen and Danyen no longer glared at the Antoran Prince. Their eyes were wide and they looked a bit pale where they sat across the fire. Nyssa turned away when she met my glance and straightened her cloak. Trevin and Kaerdra exchanged a look I couldn't read; Kaerdra bit her lip and the light from the fire showed tears in her eyes.

  “You should have had this taken care of right away,” I whispered to Andric so the others couldn't hear.

  “Before or after the avalanche and the flight for our lives?” Andric replied as quietly with an unexpected chuckle.

  I stared at his back for a moment, but was unable to come up with a response. Slightly miffed, I grabbed a damp rag and began to clean off the worst of the blood. “Blood loss can make a person dizzy and disoriented. It's your responsibility to take care of yourself so that you can lead your men.”

  Andric glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows lifted. “Are you lecturing me?”

  My cheeks turned red, but I nodded.

  He gave a true laugh this time. “It's been a while since I've been lectured.”

  “Maybe it'll do you good,” I replied curtly, the thought not far from my mind that he had in fact kidnapped all of us and put our lives in danger.

  He turned back to watch the entrance. I threaded the curved needle, then smoothed some of the numbing salve over the wound. The ointment wouldn't stop all of the pain, but I hoped it would at least ease the bite of the needle. I flinched at the quick intake of breath I heard as I began the first stitch at the top of his shoulder, but Andric held himself perfectly still for me to continue.

  The big gray wolf sat down next to me and watched my every movement. Self-conscious, I eased the smooth thread through the skin and began the next stitch. The wound was deepest at the top of the shoulder, and blood flowed down to pool on the floor where he sat. I used a rag to save what I could of his clothes, but they were already caked in dried blood from the ride to the cave.

  The minutes stretched past, and the others turned their attention away. Kenyen and Danyen argued quietly, while Brynna braided Kaerdra's hair. Nyssa had already curled up under her cloak, but I doubted she slept.

  The wound closed beneath the stitching and the flow of blood slowed. I could feel the wolf's warm breath on my shoulder.

  “You're the first one to call me just Andric since my mother died,” the Prince said so softly I almost didn't hear him.

  His words surprised me. “What about your father?” I asked.

  Andric didn't answer. He put a hand on the floor to steady himself. It was clenched into a fist, the knuckles white against the dark gray rock.

  “How far is it to Antor?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  “Two days on a hard ride, but we'll probably make it in three. I don't want to push anyone in the shape the Breizans have left us.”

  “And the horses,” I put in, thinking of Trae.

  He nodded and his wavy dark brown hair brushed the back of my hand. His warrior’s tail had pulled loose sometime during the battle; some of the strands of hair were darker where they brushed against his wound.

  He fell silent and I thought our conversation was over, but he whispered again after a few minutes, “I saw the note you left for your father.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Did you erase it?” I demanded louder than I meant to. We both glanced over at the others, but they were caught up in their own activities.

  Andric shook his head. “No, I didn't. I'm glad you left it.”

  Confused, I asked, “Why?”

  He shrugged, then winced when the movement pulled against my thread. “I don't want them to worry any more than you do. When we get to the castle you can send messages to your families to let them know that you're safe.”

  “So we can't go home?” Kenyen asked suddenly.

  I looked over to see that he watched Andric with sparks of anger in his eyes.

  Andric shook his head, his expression guarded once more. “Even if I wanted you to, you can't. The avalanche sealed the pass and it won't open again until spring.”

  Brynna's mouth fell open in shock. “So we're stuck here?”

  “This is all your fault!” Danyen shouted; he rose to his feet. Commotion sounded from the next cave; Captain Jashe and Falen appeared, swords drawn. They moved toward Danyen, but Andric held up his hand and they stopped.

  I finished the stitching and tied off the thread quickly. I moved to spread salve over the wound when Andric rose. “No, this is your fault, and the fault of your parents, the honorable Kings and Queens of Denbria,” Andric growled back; his dark eyes flashed as passionately as the Tyn Prince's.

  “And how is that?” Danyen threw back. He still looked defiant, but he had backed up slightly at Andric's unexpected outburst.

  The Antoran Prince's face hardened. “They're the ones who turned their backs while my country starved to death. They take our jewels, then leave us to fend for ourselves with nothing.” His tone darkened. “You are here to learn what following your own selfish pursuits can do to another country. If you don’t learn to work together, then yours will fall the same way mine has. My country is starving to death.”

  “So you're going to ransom us,” Trevin noted, his tone haughty as if Andric’s words confirmed his suspicions.

  Andric laughed, but it was a cold, hard sound. “My country’s already lost. Even a prince's ransom couldn't save it now.” His voice dropped softer, but his eyes were still as hard as iron. “This is a learning experience for you, nothing more. Forcing you to spend the winter in the last grips of a fading country won’t save my people, but perhaps it will be the means of saving your own from a similar fate.”

  He grabbed his torn and bloodstained shirt from the ground and stepped out into the dark night without a backwards glance; the gray wolf followed faithfully at his heels.

  I looked back at Captain Jashe and Falen. Captain Jashe glanced around the room once and then passed me to leave through the crevice after his prince. Falen turned back to his cave and left us in silence. One of the guards came in and handed around cups of steaming oatmeal sweetened with honey. I held mine for a long time. It chased the last of the chill from my fingers. The other Crowns settled on their beds and pulled the thick cloaks over them as blankets. I sat on my bed staring at the crevice through which Andric had disappeared.

  ***

  The others had fallen asleep long before, but I couldn't quiet the whirlwind of thoughts that tormented my exhausted mind. I finally rose and stepped into the other cave. The guard Falen and Jesson, the healer, were talking quietly by the fire. Most of the other guards were asleep, some with bandages and salves covering wounds from the battle. One of Falen's hands was wrapped, something I hadn't noticed earlier when he and Captain Jashe had rushed in to help Andric.

  The thought of the long sword wound down the Prince's back made me suddenly cold. At Jesson's welcoming nod, I crossed to the fire and sat down near them.

  “You're not tired?” the healer asked with raised eyebrows.

  I shook my head. “I'm exhausted, but I can't get the fight out of my head.”

  Falen smiled kindly. “That's normal for one who's seen their first battle. I remember the first time I was in a fight against Breizans. I was up half the night following it, retracing my steps to see if I could have done any better. My father, who was the captain at the time, finally gave up trying to get me to sleep and went through the fight with me. By morning I felt like I could take on a whole Breizan horde by myself.”

  He chuckled and I couldn't help but smile at his easy going manner. Then my thoughts flashed back to the bloodsta
ined mouths and hungry eyes of the Breizan horde. I shivered and pulled my cloak closer. “Do you have to fight the Breizans often?” I asked. I hated how timid my voice sounded.

  Falen stared into the fire. I had begun to wonder if he heard me when he spoke in a quiet voice. “Antor isn't like the other countries of Denbria. Where you have rolling green fields and lush plains as far as the eye can see, we have valleys of rocks the size of houses, mountain lions with claws longer than a man's hand, and snowdrifts so deep if you fall in, you'd never be able to climb out.” He sighed and shook his head. “But the one thing Antor had that isn't found anywhere else was elder diamonds. It was our only resource besides the furs of the animals we kill, and it was our one downfall.”

  When the big guard fell silent, Jesson took up where he left off. “We've become poor because the one asset we had was also one so rare and high in demand that instead of trading for it, countries stole it.”

  I stared at him in shock.

  He nodded at me, his gaze sad. “Greed overcomes common sense when it comes to riches and wealth. The other countries of Denbria aren't the only ones who steal from us. Countries from across the sea go to great lengths to attack our city and storm our mines. We've fought many battles to defend our one resource and support our country.” He turned his gaze to the fire. “Only, that resource is gone now.”

  “Gone?” I couldn't imagine it. Father had always painted a picture that Antor was filled with the elder diamonds, that Antorans used them as chess pieces and shooters for marbles, that they spilled out of every cupboard and dowry chest like so much silk. I wondered if he said those things to justify the raids. I didn't know if the guilt that rose in my chest was for doubting Jesson, or for doubting my father. “So what do you do?” I asked at a loss. “How do you support your country?”

  “We can’t,” Falen replied without looking at me. “The Prince has done what he can, but there's nothing left.”

  “Then where does everyone go?”

  “When spring comes, we'll go wherever we can. But there's not much tolerance for people like us past the mountains.” The guard stated it as a simple fact, which made it so much harder to hear.

  We sat in silence for a long while listening to the sound of the flames and the quiet moans and whispers of the soldiers sleeping around us. I wondered why Andric hadn't returned, but remembered that Jashe hadn't either; I hoped the Captain was with his prince. Perhaps he could protect him from himself. His eyes had been so dark and stormy with the passion he felt for his country. It was obvious he blamed himself for his country’s fate.

  When I finally crossed back to the other cave and settled on my bedroll, I realized that Andric's men didn't blame him. I had seen them take orders from him with more respect than soldiers gave kings who had ruled for four decades. The words Falen and Jesson had spoken were blameless and only carried the same sorrow Andric felt for Antor.

  Chapter 6

  The unearthly screams rose again as the Breizans surrounded me. The rumble of the avalanche shook the earth, only I wasn't behind the wall with the others, I was in the open surrounded by the cannibal horde with only Andric's white wolf at my side. The Breizans charged. I screamed and woke up gasping for air.

  Everyone still slept around the fire that now burned low in the cave. I realized I had only screamed in my dream, and forced my heart to slow. I glanced toward the front of the cave and saw a shadow near the entrance. It turned its head toward me.

  “Nightmare?” Andric asked quietly.

  I nodded, then realized he probably couldn't see the motion against the black backdrop of the cave. “How do you keep from having nightmares after a battle like that?” I willed my voice not to quiver.

  “I don't go to sleep,” he replied. I could hear a touch of humor in his voice and wondered if he was smiling.

  The bedroll proved little cushion against the cold stone floor and my muscles protested when I rose and sat down against the wall near him. A dark shadow at Andric's feet lifted its great head and sniffed at me, then the big gray wolf turned back to watch the crevice opening. A light-colored phantom slipped through and licked Andric's hand.

  “She's beautiful,” I whispered.

  Andric ruffled the fur on the white wolf’s head. “Freis,” he said, then frowned thoughtfully. “At least, that's what it sounds like out loud.”

  “How else would you say it?”

  Andric looked at me, his eyes too dark to see in the dimly lit cave. “It's different in my head, how I talk to them.”

  I stared at him. “You talk to them?”

  He nodded. His tone was careful when he continued, “Antorans communicate with their animals by thought. Some animals speak differently than others, but the essence is the same. Wolves use images as well as sound to convey meaning, which is why howling is so effective.” He glanced at me. “So we don't control them, we work together, like a pack, for lack of a better term,” he shrugged, then winced as the motion pulled at his fresh stitches. “It's hard to explain.”

  I couldn’t think of a response.

  “She showed me how you protected her during the avalanche,” Andric whispered. “Thank you.”

  I hid my surprise and looked down at Freis to find her watching me. Her golden eyes reflected the flickering light of the low fire. She whined and nudged my hand with her nose; I smiled and petted her head. She settled down next to me with her head on my knee so that I could continue.

  The gray wolf gave a quiet snort. Andric chuckled. “Bayn isn't one for open affection.”

  As if to prove his point, the huge wolf turned and stared straight at me. The intelligence in his eyes surprised me. I couldn't help but smile in surprise at the slight touch of humor in them. It was as though he and Andric shared some private joke.

  Andric straightened his back against the wall, then winced when it brushed against his shoulder.

  “You should be sleeping,” I said. “You won't recover well without rest; you've lost too much blood.”

  “There'll be time to sleep when we reach the castle,” he replied. “My men are out scouting to make sure we’re safe. If they send a warning, I’ll be ready.” He rested his head back against the wall and his eyes closed for a brief moment. He opened them again and looked at me with a faint smile. “I haven't been told what to do in a very long time.” His smile was sad.

  Despite all he had put us through, my heart ached at the look in his eyes. “You miss her, don't you?” He nodded and looked back toward the entrance to the cave. How would it be to lose my mother? She did so much and shared love so freely with everyone. Father always said she was the counterpoint to a government of strict law. She helped make our peoples’ burdens lighter.

  I pictured her at home with Rory. She never left his bedside and took over where the healers normally worked. She confided in me once that I reminded her of her childhood when she, too, had traveled with the healers to learn their art. She had met my father tending to him after a brief battle with Tyn. He said she saved his life and stole his heart as payment. My heart throbbed at the echo of her laugh in my memory, and the way she always stood on her tiptoes to kiss Father lightly on the cheek.

  I tried to picture Mother tending to Father, but only saw Rory sick in bed, pale, and wasting away. A tear rolled down my cheek. “I miss Rory,” I said quietly.

  I hadn't meant to say it out loud, and I think Andric knew it. “I know,” he replied, his tone gentle. “You really didn't mean to be here at all, did you?”

  I shook my head and more tears spilled down my cheeks despite my efforts to keep them from doing so. “I don't fit in here with the Crowns. I'm so different from them.”

  “Did you want to be a Crown?” Andric asked with a slight hint of curiosity in his voice.

  I shook my head again and wiped the tears away with the corner of my cloak. “Rory is still the Crown Prince of Zalen. He knows exactly what to do, and he'll be the best leader for our country.” I frowned into the darkness. “I don't know w
hat to do at all.”

  Andric shifted against the cold stone. “Perhaps that's what can make you the best ruler.”

  I glanced at him. “Why is that?”

  The Antoran Prince gestured toward where the other Crowns slept. “They've grown up knowing that they'll be rulers, and with everyone around them knowing that they'll be the next kings and queens. They've had to become suspicious and distrusting, looking for those who would use them or deceive them for a grasp at some of that power.” He looked back at me, his dark gaze frank in the dim light. “You don't have that. You seem to take everyone at face value. You’re not predisposed to assume that everyone you talk to has an ulterior motive. That would be a valuable trait for a king or queen to have.”

  He leaned his head back against the stone and looked up at the ceiling. “Imagine being able to accept the story of those who come for pardon or assistance and trusting the words of those who would be friends instead of searching for the hidden intent behind their efforts.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “You'd have to be careful, though. There’re many people not to be trusted.”

  I nodded. Bayn settled down again and without thinking, I reached over to run a hand through his hair. The gray wolf's fur was thick, a bristly, long outer coat over a heavy, soft undercoat to keep in warmth. Freis' fur on the other hand was silky and long, pure white and soft. Bayn rolled to his side so that I could rub his belly.

  I smiled. “Not one for open affection, huh?”

  Andric grinned down at the wolf. “Guess he couldn't refuse. You have a soft touch.”

  I stared at him, but he turned away before I could read his expression. I looked back down at the wolves that lay on either side of me. Bayn was well muscled and thick, tall enough to stand at Andric's height on his hind legs, and big enough to tackle a small bear. Freis was petite and slender, a graceful counterpoint to her mate's brawn. Her head was narrow and body sleek. I had already seen her run for hours without tiring. Her body was built for speed.