The Fallen Prince kol-2

by Shea Berkley

  “I’ve already bumped into him. He’s got a super-villain complex bigger than Darth Vader’s and it’s directed at me.” I no longer know what’s going on in Jason’s head, but I’m pretty sure for him, our friendship has become another disposable commodity.

  Reece runs a hand against his forehead and looks at his brother. “Jason?”

  “Carl’s kid, the one into wrestling.”

  “That little shit is causing all this? How’d he get involved?”

  “Me,” I say, though it irks me to admit it. “I brought him here. This is all my fault.”

  The room grows silent. Condemning. I don’t blame them.

  Wyatt coughs, breaking the quiet. “I don’t think the two of them are working together. Granel left before we knew about Jason.”

  Halim jumps down from the chair he’s standing on. “The Corlian said their new leader was powerful. How did a regular human get magic?”

  “Does it really matter?” I snap. I don’t want to say. It’s bad enough I brought Jason here, but to tell them I think I might’ve transferred some of my power into him when I saved his life…well, I’m sure they’d like me even less, if that were possible at this point.

  “We humans are amazingly adaptable,” Wyatt says.

  “Not that adaptable. Someone’s helping him,” Halim mutters.

  Adaptable, yes. Invincible, no. I won’t make the mistake of underestimating Granel again. When he took off, he could have stumbled onto Jason and found a new hate mate. He didn’t run scared. He was looking for a better opportunity. And if it isn’t with Jason, then I have no idea who it is. Which scares me even more.

  Reece moves to the table and peers at the map. “Does the map have the ability to single out individuals?”

  Hadrain rises and steps toward the map. “Yes.”

  The older man places his hand on the map key near the top left corner. His says a spell in a language I don’t know and the key changes, showing Granel’s name next to a bloodred dot, but the map doesn’t change.

  “It appears as if he’s either dead or has left Teag.”

  Or he’s hiding. I poke at the map. “Halim, what did you do to make the map move?”

  “I touched it here…by accident,” he says, biting into the lie like a normal human boy, “and pushed up.”

  I place my hand on the spot and move it up. A large space appears, hovering over the map with a dark line near the edge. But what’s even more interesting is a bloodred mark in the midst of the black. Hadrain points. “There he is. Granel.”

  I pull my hand away and the space disappears. “Is this place familiar to anyone?”

  It takes only a second, but Halim’s eyes grow wide. He slams his hand on the spot. “The Unknown.”

  Kera was sent to the Unknown by someone who wants me dead. Jason wants me dead. At this very moment, Granel is in the Unknown. “It sure seems like Granel is working with Jason.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Hadrain says. “He was Navar’s lieutenant because he showed the same level of hate for humans. He would never work with one.”

  But there’s no way he’s working alone. He doesn’t have the charisma to inspire like Navar. Granel is a follower through and through. All the signs point to Granel working in Jason’s camp. I’m with Halim. Jason has to be getting his power from someone, and Granel is all about the nastiest magic available. “Are you sure Granel and Jason don’t know each other?”

  Hadrain changes the map key again, specifically asking it to show Granel and Jason’s forces. “If they are working together, the color will be the same.” Granel’s faction is bright red while Jason’s turns from black to a medium blue. “Same objective, different leaders.”

  That doesn’t mean they’re not working together. Jason could’ve easily passed on the leadership of the Unknown to Granel, a guy who hates me as much as Jason does. Though I look for it, I don’t see Jason’s deep-blue marker anywhere on the map.

  “Are there any other hidden spaces in Teag?” I swipe my hand over the map, searching for any.

  “Only a few tiny ones where people keep their treasures.”

  Frustrated, I push away from the map. “Find them and make sure Jason isn’t hiding in one of them.”

  I don’t want to think he’s gone somewhere beyond Teag to drum up more manpower, but I wouldn’t put it past him. “Bring out maps of the neighboring kingdoms. We need to find him.”

  There’s a rush. Maps are slapped onto every cleared surface as soldiers search for Jason.

  “We’ll find him,” Wyatt says confidently.

  Reece comes up to us and says in a quiet voice, “I know Jason. There’s no way that little prick is smart enough to do all this damage.”

  “He’s not waging a war,” Wyatt injects. “Not a war any of these people are used to. He doesn’t care who lives or dies.”

  “That’s because no one here is real to him.” I remember Jason commenting on that the first time we entered Teag. “He knows once their loyalty is given, they’ll do whatever he asks, even if it goes against their instincts to survive.”

  “So what’s he doing?”

  “All he wants is to prove he’s better than me.” I remember Jason’s face, how it contorted when he said killing me wasn’t personal. He actually believed it, like nothing he did in this realm was real. “He’s playing a game,” I say. “And right now he’s winning.”

  An Unlikely Friendship

  Kera’s dream state was growing stronger. At first she could wake herself up for a moment here, a moment there. Now she struggled to remember she was dreaming. She floated from one to another, and always she searched for Dylan.

  Not this dream. Unlike the others that immediately felt real, it took a moment for this dream to take shape. When it finally did, she found herself in the middle of a group of sheep huddled together in a barn stall waiting to be clipped. In the corner, Jason’s wide shoulders took up too much space as he sheared a sheep, leaving a crest of wool along the top of its head and down its back. He turned off the electric shears and tossed them onto the dirt floor. Sitting back, he admired his work. “Cool, huh?”

  A radio played in the background, and Kera could see a house in the distance, though it didn’t look familiar. “I don’t understand. You’re alive?”

  His lips twitched. “Very much alive.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It’s a long story, but in short…magic. You do believe in magic, don’t you?”

  She frowned at his sarcastic attitude. Of course she did. “What are you doing here?” She’d never seen anyone she’d known in her dreams except Baun.

  “Forced labor.” He let the ewe go and it bounded back into the waiting group. “What are you doing here? Have you finally had enough of Dylan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He grabbed another sheep. “The whole magic power trip thing.”

  “I don’t stay with him because of that.” She ran her fingers over the springy wool of the ewe in front of her. It tilted its sweet face up to her and bleated. She smiled and scratched its ear. “Even if he had none, I would love him.”

  “Keep telling yourself that and you might start believing it. I know chicks. A dude’s got to have something special to offer or else he’s going home alone.”

  “Dylan said you have talent.”

  “I wrestle. Dad’s got me wired into some pretty hard-core training. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for much else.” He sent her a mischievous look. “But I make the time.” He grinned, his smile so charming, she found herself grinning back.

  The back door to his house slammed shut and he glanced out the barn doors. “Shit.” He looked at all the sheep and his lips thinned. “He’s coming and I’m not near done.”

  He pushed the sheep off his lap and grabbed Kera’s arm. He led her in a circle, his eyes searching for something. “You can’t be here.”

  It wasn’t her choice to be here in the first place. “Where am I supposed to go?”
/>
  “I don’t care, just not here.”

  “Jason!” His name shot through the barn. The man was right outside the door.

  He shoved Kera into a big pile of wool and covered her. “Don’t come out or we’ll both get it.”

  He straightened just as the man entered the barn. Kera instantly knew he was Jason’s father. They had the same barrel chests and thick necks. The man took a coiled leather strap off a nearby hook and entered the stall, swinging the knotted end, which bumped the sheep out of his way. His hard eyes raked the poor creatures. “What the hell have you been doing in here?” He pointed to the ewe with the odd shearing. “What kind of stupid, lame-ass job is that?”

  “I was just—”

  “Shut up!” The man’s thick neck turned red and his gaze pinned Jason to the spot. “I send you in here to do a man’s job and this is what I get?”

  Jason shot a quick glance Kera’s way then looked down at his feet. “Maybe you should have done it,” he muttered.

  His dad gave a nearby sheep a vicious bump that had it bleating sadly. “What did you say?”

  Jason took a step back. “Nothing.”

  His dad worked his way toward him. “No. I think you should tell me.” He suddenly slapped the back of Jason’s head, jarring it forward. “Spit it out, boy.”

  “Nothing.”

  The knot on the end of the strap zipped out and smacked Jason in the ribs. He grunted and jumped back. “Stop, Dad.”

  “Tell me,” his father insisted and sent the hard leather knot flying. It hit the inside of Jason’s left thigh.

  Jason grabbed the spot and hobbled out of the way. “Dad, stop!”

  “Not until you tell me.” The knot whipped out again, slamming into Jason’s back. He grunted.

  Kera huddled deeper into the wool, horrified by the sight of Jason’s dad hitting him again and again, taunting him. “Wanna be a big man? You never will. Not until you can stand up to me. But you won’t, will you? You’re too scared.”

  “I’m not scared of you,” Jason gritted out even though he threw his arm over his head and flinched every time his dad got too close.

  His dad grabbed Jason and twisted him into a headlock. He squeezed so hard, Jason’s face turned purple. With a hard hit to the face, his dad dropped Jason to the floor and kicked dirt in his face.

  Jason coughed and rubbed the dirt out of his eyes. His dad hovered over him, hands on his bent knees. “You should be scared of me. I’m bigger and better than you. Winners get the job done. If you want to be a winner, you’re going to have to fight for it. Get mean. Do what others won’t.”

  He straightened and watched his son lie beaten on the floor. He spat on him and then kicked him in the ribs. “No pain, no gain, son. Get the job done. I’ll be back in an hour. That’s plenty of time. If you’re still not done, expect a real whipping.”

  Jason didn’t move. Not when his dad left and not when Kera finally climbed out of the wool. She gently nudged the sheep out of her way and knelt by Jason. A circular bruise was forming along his cheek, as well as one across his collarbone. He finally turned his head and looked at her. “What are you staring at?”

  She eased her arm beneath his shoulders and helped him sit with the wall supporting his back. He slowly pulled his shirt off. The damage she couldn’t see before glowed angry red and purple amid older bruises dotting his body. His breath hissed in as he turned one way, then the other, calmly counting the new bruises. Kera inched her hand into his and squeezed his fingers.

  When he was done, he turned to her, his eyes void of emotion. “One of these days, I’m going to show him…and everyone like him who thinks they’re better than me.”

  “You should leave. Get away from him.”

  He shook his head. “Got regionals coming up. We’ve got a plan, and I’m going to win. I always do.”

  Kera didn’t know what to say. Pity and fear mingled. She wanted to pull him out of there, but the edges of the dream started to cloud and before she could take her next breath, she was spinning out of Jason’s dream only to land in an open field outside of Ainsbury Cross.

  The transition left her gasping. Her encounter with Jason quickly faded until this new dream she was in became her reality. It was a country fair day. People milled about listening to music, dancing, and competing in contests of skill.

  She was close to home, and as she moved through the crowd, she searched for someone she knew. Suddenly a bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over her back and a familiar figure stood beside her.

  Baun gave her a slight bow and smiled. “You look fetching in your shooting outfit. I can see why my son is drawn to you.”

  Kera fidgeted with the buttons on her woodland-green jacket. The matching full skirt and flowing white top were simple, yet the cincher she wore was far too tight. She put her hand to her waist. “Nice as they are, these clothes aren’t mine. They’re ridiculous. I can barely breathe.”

  Baun held out his hand and waited for her to take it. “Your abhorrence of fashion makes you a unique woman, yet your position in society dictates you dress the part. I suppose that is why you imagined the clothes you’re wearing and not,” he nods to a commonly dressed woman hawking flowers, “hers.”

  She placed her hand in his, and he tucked it within the crook of his arm. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted.

  They moved from juggler to dancer to baker to artist. It was a pleasant day. One made for smiles and lighthearted conversation. Yet her dream of Jason sat heavy at the back of her mind. He had clearly been a prisoner to his father’s whims, just like she had once. Where she had broken free, Jason had been broken. “I believe I should not have to conform to others’ expectations. Doing so is a lie. It betrays who I really am.”

  Baun purchased a sweet berry tart for her and one for himself. “Haven’t you been doing that your whole life? Your father even gave you a sliver of his magic to fool everyone else. Even I didn’t know.”

  She bit into the pie and found it the perfect combination of sweet and tart. Between licking the juice from her fingertips, she said, “It was for my protection.”

  “But now you are what you have always desired.” He pulled out a handkerchief and presented it to her. “A true first. To be anything less…well, what is the point of living? Even your friend Jason knows that.”

  She slowly wiped at her lips. He knew about Jason? The thought didn’t sit well with her. Exactly what was he after?

  He noticed her mood shift and steered their conversation to a less worrisome topic. “I have heard of your expertise with the bow and arrow.”

  She wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “You seem to know a lot about me. How is that possible? You are a prisoner, chained like a criminal.”

  He chuckled and finished his tart. “I hear much from my captors. They are inquisitive by nature, as well as murderous little cheats, but they love a good story. You have given them many over the years.”

  She offered back the handkerchief, but he waved it away and she tucked it into her jacket pocket. “Unlike you, I have led a normal life, not exciting enough to draw anyone’s interest.”

  “You caught Dylan’s interest, and he’s far from ordinary.”

  “He loves me for who I am.” He loved her before he even knew she was real.

  “Keep in mind, you were raised in an unorthodox manner.”

  “Unorthodox for a first. I’m afraid in the human realm I am nothing very special.”

  “Nothing special?” He stopped, his body suddenly rigid, his jaw tense. “The human realm is a spectacle of massive absurdity. One human trying to outdo another, not satisfied until they have embarrassed themselves not only in front of family and friends, but the whole world. Never say you are less than they. You are ten times—” He cut his tirade short.

  The people around them had all stopped what they were doing to stare, blinking like owls after a mole. He drew in a deep breath and tightened his grip on her hand. “Forgive me. I hate hearing anyone
with such obvious talents denigrate themselves. Please, show me your talent in the next competition.”

  Immediately, a line of archers was before her, and beyond it, a dozen targets. Baun urged her forward and she took her place. They were allotted three arrows. A man shouted for the crowd to quiet and held up his hand. Kera notched her arrow along with the other archers and pulled the string back, resting it near her cheek. When the man lowered his arm, she released the string and the arrow shot forward, landing dead center. The other archers did passably well, but none as well as her. Polite applause sounded.

  The man raised his hand again. She positioned the next arrow, and when his hand lowered, she let go. Once again her arrow shot forward. And when it hit, it spliced her first arrow in two. Ohhs and ahhs raced through the crowd. Never had Kera hit a target in the same spot, and never had she hit her own arrow.

  The man raised his hand again, and when everyone was set, let it drop. This time Kera closed her eyes and let the arrow go, not worrying if the arrow would hit its mark or not. The crowd burst into thunderous applause.

  Baun’s whispered words entered her ear. “Thus are what dreams are made of.”

  She opened her eyes to see the third arrow had spliced the second one in two also. She lowered her bow and felt oddly empty.

  “What is wrong? You won the golden arrow.”

  In her hand she held a shiny gold arrow, her name inscribed along the shaft. When had they given it to her? It was then she remembered where she was. None of this was real. She held her prize out to Baun. “Take it. The win is not a fair one.”

  “You won. I saw you.”

  “This is all a dream.”

  “Yes. And anything and everything is possible in a dream.”

  “I want reality.” The word flew out on a catch, though she refused to cry in public.

  Baun paused as if she were an oddity he’d never encountered. “Do you?”

  “Yes.” She dropped the bow and golden arrow on the ground and faced him. “It is said you have more power than anyone. Is there any way you can help me wake up?”