by Cheree Alsop
Without lifting his head, Andric set a hand on the dark wolf's shoulders. His fingers convulsed into a fist, holding onto the thick fur as though it was a lifeline. Bayn turned his head toward his Prince, and Andric rested his forehead against the wolf's. They sat there like that for a long time, Andric's tears running down the wolf's nose, both of their eyes closed.
“I can't do this anymore,” Andric finally whispered. I wasn't sure he knew I was there, but when he looked up, it was straight into my eyes. The pain on his face was so hard to see that I almost looked away, but I couldn't tear myself from his gaze. “I can't do it anymore.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Andric lowered Freis' body gently to the ground in front of me; her beautiful white fur matched the thick white rug that was stained with her blood. The Prince rose to his feet. I could see the helplessness in his eyes, the fury and pain that had no outlet. He gazed around, looking through the guards and Jesson as if they weren't there.
Without warning, Andric grabbed a huge glass vase of dried branches that stood near the door, then turned and smashed it against the fireplace. “I can't do this anymore!” he shouted, tears of rage mixing with those of sorrow.
A guard stepped forward to stop him, but I shook my head and he took his place back by the window.
Andric picked up an end table and slammed it against the wall. It broke into splinters, taking down a wall sconce with it. He turned and caught up a stone statue as long as his forearm and threw it against the fireplace. It broke into three pieces, tearing chunks of marble from the fireplace with its momentum. The Prince threw two armchairs out of his way to reach a second vase which he then smashed near the first.
Andric stumbled against the fireplace, his chest heaving. He leaned so that his forehead touched the cool stone, his disheveled hair hiding his face. “Why?” he asked, his voice full of agony. “Why?” he repeated louder. He growled, then pounded the stone with his fist, heedless of the pain.
I jumped to my feet and grabbed his arm. He tried to wrestle it out of my grasp, then gave up and fell against me, burying his face against my shoulder. “Why, Kit? Why did this happen? Why do I keep going? Why do I care so much?” He sobbed. “Why Freis?”
I smoothed his hair, blinking the tears from my eyes. “I don't know,” I whispered. “But it's who you are.”
He took a shuddering breath, then stepped back and turned away. For a minute I was afraid he would start punching the wall again, but his voice was defeated when he spoke, “Who I am? How do you know that when I don't even know myself?” He wiped the tears angrily from his face and turned back to look at Freis' body. “This is because of me,” he said softly.
Bayn rose and put his head against Andric's leg. We were close enough that he brushed against me, too, and shared with me the images he showed the Prince.
I saw Andric and all of his wolves as they raced through the snow. Andric rode a horse and it was night, but they galloped heedless of the danger of unsure footing. The scene was through the wolf's eyes, and I gave a start when he glanced up at Andric and the form he was holding in front him on the horse. Me, lifeless, his arms tight around me. They were racing home after the battle with the mountain lion.
“Why her?” Andric's voice asked the wolf in the memory. “Why is she so reckless?” I could feel all of the wolves connected with him, sharing a conversation in their minds.
“Not reckless,” a thought corrected him. Freis. The words were sounds, translated through my mind as though I had spoken to wolves all my life.
“How could I let this happen?” Andric pressed angrily.
The wolf nudged him again, her mind calm but also anxious as they loped headlong through the night. “If any of us dies to save another, it is a death of honor, of love. Love is what we live for and what we die for.”
“What kind of love am I showing her if I can't even keep her safe?” he demanded. Sorn stumbled on a deeper patch of snow, then quickly regained his footing.
“You can't live in fear of losing someone,” Bayn said, his tones deep and sure. “You can't be there at all times to protect those you care about. Danger is a part of life, and so is death.”
Freis' softer tones agreed, a gentle harmony to Bayn's thoughts. “It's the way of the wolf you've known since you were young. We live for each other knowing the danger life carries with it.”
“But she's not a wolf,” Andric said. There was a gentler touch to his thoughts, but also one of frustration. He sighed, “I don't know my thoughts when I'm around her.”
“She's close to a wolf,” Tyd said.
“Close enough,” Freis agreed. “She'll be alright; you'll see.”
“I hope so,” Andric replied.
Bayn glanced up to see the castle spires looming above the trees.
“She wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me,” the Prince continued, his thoughts forced.
“None of us would,” Bayn concurred. “But your purpose is ours. Fate, destiny, whatever you'd like to call it brought us all together to this point; the rest is up to each of us. None of us goes into it blindly. Kit knew the danger when she chose to lead the group, just like each of us knew the battle we would face when we found Bown. You can't save everyone, Andric, and you can't destroy yourself for those who slip through your fingers.”
Freis continued where Bayn stopped. “You're in a position to do the greatest good, and you owe it to yourself and all of Antor to do that. Don't live in regret; live with wisdom from your memories, not sorrow. We believe in you.”
Freis' last words, 'we believe in you', stayed in my head when I stepped back from Bayn. Andric stared down at the wolf, his face troubled and tear-streaked. “I don't think that belief was well-founded,” he said quietly.
“It was and is,” I said out loud. I felt Bayn's echoed agreement even though I wasn't touching him.
Andric walked slowly to one of the remaining chairs and sat down, his head in his hands. We waited quietly. After what seemed an eternity, the Prince took a deep breath, then rose back to his feet. He didn't say a word when he knelt by Freis and gathered her body up in his arms. We followed him out the door and down the stairs, past the people who still waited around the banquet hall and watched us quietly with sad faces when we went by, and out the door leading toward the wall.
We walked past the stables and down a rocky path to a clearing I had never seen before. Giant headstones marked the graves of the royal members and honored soldiers who had died in service to Antor. I was numbly surprised to see Jesson already there; I couldn't remember when he had left Andric's room.
A grave had already been prepared, attesting to the length of time that had gone by in Andric's quarters. The markings of an ice pick and a shovel could be seen on the sides of the hole, but the tools had been taken tactfully away. Two guards stood a short distance back to give us privacy. A thick green velvet cloak had been spread across the bottom of the grave. Andric knelt down and set Freis' body on the cloak, then rose quickly and turned away to hide a sob that shook his body.
The four wolves ringed the grave, their heads low. Bayn raised his muzzle and gave one last, long howl. The other wolves joined him this time, their voices mixing in a beautiful, haunting harmony that I knew I would never forget. When Bayn was done, he dropped his head and walked slowly back toward the castle. The others followed him solemnly; none of the puppyish capering that I was used to seeing from them lifted their steps.
I glanced at Jesson, uncertain of the customs in Antor regarding the loss of a bonded animal. He looked past me, his brow creased and eyes wet. I turned in the direction of his gaze and saw the Prince kneeling at another grave site; one hand rested on the feet of a beautiful white headstone that had been carved into the shape of an angel with her head bowed. He whispered softly; his lips moved, but his words didn't reach us. I desperately wanted to go to him, but I stayed where I was.
After some time had passed, Jesson walked over and asked the Prince something. When Andric didn
't reply, the healer came back with deep sorrow on his face. He motioned to one of the guards who brought over a pair of shovels. When the guard bent to scoop from the pile of frozen dirt, Jesson shook his head and held out his hand. The guard gave him the shovel wordlessly. I reached for the other one. At the guard's stare, I frowned slightly and he handed it to me.
Jesson settled his own cloak around Freis' body so that it was covered completely, then we began to fill in the grave. We set the dirt in softly so that there was no sound of cold earth falling against the body that had been warm and alive such a short time ago. It took longer than I expected, but Andric didn't move from his mother's grave until we were done.
When we finished, we waited without pressing him. He finally rose and came back to us; we waited with him near the fresh grave for a long time. He eventually turned and patted Jesson on the shoulder, then seemed to notice me standing there.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Can I walk back with you?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head. “I need some time alone, if that's alright. I just have some things I need to figure out.”
I nodded, my heart constricting painfully as I watched him walk slowly over the snow. I shivered, suddenly feeling the cold. A hand touched my shoulder and I turned to see Jesson watching me.
“You alright?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, but the tears that filled my eyes said differently. I was amazed I wasn't out of tears yet after all I had cried, but they were persistent.
He nodded in understanding. “I need help with a foal if you have some time.”
The thought of a warm stable and new life was like a balm to my aching heart. I nodded. “Yes, please.”
Jesson put an arm around my shoulders and led me toward the stables where Drade met us with tears in his eyes. I remembered the horse he had lost on our journey to Antor, and realized he knew exactly what Andric was going through. Maybe that was why Jesson had invited me, so I could be prepared to help Andric through it the way the Prince had helped Drade.
The Horsemaster opened the door and motioned for us to go through, then followed behind us after securely shutting out the cold.
Chapter 24
This time, I was the one on the roof with the blankets when Andric finally left his room two days later. It was nighttime and cold, but Tyd, the small gray wolf, and Kreen, the young black one, kept me company. The wolves had all taken turns sitting with the Prince. It was Bayn and Myn's turn now. Tyd gave a short whine and I turned to see Andric push the door open, the two other wolves behind him.
He walked straight to me and hugged me tight. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly.
“About what?” I asked, surprised. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“This isn't how I pictured your stay in Antor, sword fighting, near-death experiences, sadness, loss, misery. . . .”
I cut him off with a frown. “I'm glad you didn't picture it that way, because that's not how it's been. You wanted this to be a learning experience? Well, I've learned more about life and leadership in one winter here than I have the rest of my life put together. I won't be the same when we have to go home.”
He looked at me for several minutes, his face unreadable. “And that's not a bad thing?” he asked softly. “You've seen and gone through things you should never have experienced.”
I shook my head firmly. “It's not a bad thing at all. Look at the Crowns now compared to who they were when they came here. It used to be that they wouldn't even give the time of day to someone who wasn't a member of a royal family; now, they dance with Antoran citizens and enjoy themselves.” I gave him a frank stare. “If anything, it's us who owe you an apology. You never did have an ulterior motive for kidnapping us.”
Andric turned away and put his bare hands on the cold marble of the parapet. “Maybe it would have been better if I did.” He was quiet for a minute, then sighed. “Jashe tracked down the man who shot Freis. He's an Antoran who lives in one of the outlying towns.”
My mouth fell open. “An Antoran? What are you going to do with him?”
“Nothing.” Andric gave a slight, rueful smile at the look on my face. “He'll be forced to leave the country when the pass opens, but we'll all be following him shortly so it's not much of a punishment.”
“Shouldn't he be in jail or something?” I asked, horrified. “Andric, he tried to kill you!”
“I know,” the Prince replied. He looked out over the dark city. “But I can't imprison everyone who feels we're making the wrong choice to leave Antor. There’re many families who are upset, but the majority agrees that we can't live by stealing for the rest of our lives. It's not a secure environment in which to raise the future generations, uncertain of where our sustenance and materials will come from. It would be more irresponsible to stay than to say goodbye.”
I didn't agree, but I fell quiet, enjoying just having him near again. Being with the Crowns in the unsettled atmosphere of the castle since Freis was killed had nearly driven me crazy. I spent most of my time in the stables with Drade, Jesson, and the winter foal.
“He might feel it's wrong to leave Antor, but trying to kill someone is never right,” I said quietly through teeth gritted against the other words I wanted to say about the man.
“I spoke to him for a long time,” Andric said.
Surprised, I kept quiet.
“He apologized over and over again, saying that he was half-mad with starvation and worried about his family who was perishing of hunger. When I asked him why he didn't bring them to the castle like most of the Antorans, he said it was on principle and honor; he didn't think leaving was right, so he was trying to prove that we could survive without stealing.” Andric's eyebrows lowered. “When he realized he was wrong, it was more than he could accept. I know how he feels.”
I turned to him. “You still think you were wrong to bring us here.”
He nodded. “I had no right. I'll accept whatever punishment the other rulers of Denbria feel is appropriate.”
I shuddered, thinking of the anger that still showed through in Father’s letters. The other Crowns had voiced the same thing, saying that their families were counting down the days until the pass opened so they could make the Prince pay for his actions. I wasn't the only one who would do what we could to protect Andric, either.
“You've got to admit that good things have come from this,” I argued.
Andric turned to face me. “Like what?” he asked quietly.
“Like us,” I whispered before I could stop myself. I blushed and turned away.
He caught my chin and turned my face back gently until he stared down at me. “But there can't be an us,” he said softly.
“I know,” I replied; pain laced through my heart. “But I don't regret the fact that I love you.” My heart jumped when I said it, and I knew it was true even as the words left my lips.
Andric stared at me, his eyes widening slightly. “You love me?”
“With all my heart,” I said. He looked at me for so long I finally turned away.
After a minute, he touched my shoulder. I looked back at him. “I love you, too,” he said, gathering me into his arms. “You must know that I do, that the one thing I don't regret is having met you. You woke me up and reminded me why I do what I do.” His voice broke. “You help me through this even when you don't realize it.”
I held him tight and all the force of my body prayed for the moment to last forever. I matched my breath with his, my head on his chest as I listened to his heartbeat. For that moment, despite all of the heartache and hardship we had gone through, I was content to just be held in his arms and loved. The voice in the back of my mind kept telling me that I needed to be rational about all of this, but I couldn’t deny the way my heart pounded stronger when I was near him, and the way I felt complete when he held me in his arms.
***
Antorans from all over came to express their sorrow at the loss of Freis. Everyone, it seemed, under
stood the deep bond between Andric and his wolves, and they hated to see their Prince in pain. The one good thing it did was open Andric's eyes to the fact that his people truly did love and care about him. At each expression of heartfelt sympathy, he returned his thanks and spoke to the person individually. When they left, I saw newfound respect and honor on their faces.
I wondered if Andric knew how much he strengthened his relationship with his people, but it was obvious he was just as taken by the effort they made to see him. Though I could tell he wanted to put what had happened to Freis behind him, he made a great effort to take time out for every person who came, and also asked them their concerns about the upcoming move.
It took most of his time, leaving us alone as the winter wound down.
“Is there anything we can do to make their leaving any easier?” Kaerdra asked one day as we dawdled in the breakfast room as a group, unable to find interest in any of the activities of the castle.
“I don't think so,” Trevin replied.
We had practiced with them that morning out in the courtyard like always, but the atmosphere was growing more somber as the winter drew to a close. It was as if everyone knew the inevitable was coming, but no one wanted to talk about it.
“Yeah,” Landis said. He put his hand on the glass of one of the windows and studied the print he left in the morning frost. “They're leaving their homes, occupations, and everything they know. How do you prepare a kingdom for that?”
“They're going to places where they don't even know they'll be welcome,” Brynna said. “That would be hard.”
“It doesn't have to be,” Tisha said thoughtfully. She reached up to draw a beak and legs on Landis' hand print, turning it into a bird.
“How so?” Nyssa asked from the couch.
“Well,” Tisha shrugged. “We know where they'll be going. Maybe if they knew there were places welcome to them, they'd feel better about going there?”
