The Kingdom Thief (Sitnalta Series Book 2)

by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

  Navor turned and grinned at her. “Just follow me,” he replied.

  Sitnalta smiled, her stomach full of butterflies. She liked surprises, and it had been so long since she’d had something to truly look forward to.

  Navor kicked his horse into a brisk trot, and Sitnalta followed suit. Soon they were riding out of the castle gates, down away from the village.

  Sitnalta felt free. The wind whipped through her hair, sending it flying around her face in blue waves. She was glad she hadn’t taken the time to pull it back. She loved the way it felt streaming around her like this. She could smell the salty tang of the sea in the air, and she found herself laughing as her horse thundered forward. She forgot all about Navor telling her to follow him and let her horse gallop alongside Navor. .

  Sitnalta turned and caught his eye, and they smiled at each other. She loved the way his hair looked, an unruly mop, styled by the wind. He looked so natural atop his stallion, as if he had been born to ride.

  They rode on in companionable silence, enjoying the feel of the horses galloping beneath them, the palm trees rushing past on either side. Eventually, the trees thinned out, and the riding path gave way to sand. Sitnalta found herself riding beside Navor along a white beach, the horses’ hooves pounding through the waves as they licked across the shore.

  Navor pointed ahead to a small rock formation, jutting out from the sand, indicating that that was where he planned to stop. They had been riding for a while, and though Sitnalta had been enjoying herself, it had been a while since she had been on horseback, and she welcomed the break. They slowed to a walk and made their way to their destination, dismounting and hobbling the horses.

  Navor pulled a water skin from his saddlebag and offered it to Sitnalta, who gratefully accepted it and took a long drink. As Navor took his turn quenching his thirst, Sitnalta sat down on a flat rock and unlaced her boots. Pulling them off, she dug her toes deep into the warm sand. She lifted her face to the sun, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to relax.

  Sitnalta sat like that for quite some time before the sound of splashing caught her attention. She opened her eyes to see Navor attempting to skip stones across the waves. She laughed at the frustrated look on his face as each rock sunk to the bottom without a single bounce.

  “What?” he said peevishly, turning to look at her.

  “I’m not certain,” she said. “But I think it works better on a calmer body of water.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said. “But I still had to try.”

  Sitnalta got up off of her rock and began walking up and down the beach, relishing the feel of the cool waves lapping at her feet. The hem of her dress was growing soggy, and the wet fabric was collecting sand, but she didn’t care. Every so often, she could see a shell peeking through the white sand, and she would crouch down and pick it up, cleaning it off in the surf. After a while, she was using the skirt of her dress as a makeshift basket, and she had amassed a sizeable collection of shells in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colours. She would have kept on, too, if her stomach hadn’t started growling. She turned back to find Navor had turned her rock into a rustic table, and had laid out a veritable banquet. She lifted her sodden skirts and made her way back.

  Navor saw Sitnalta heading his way and waved to her. He smiled as she emptied her shells onto their rocky tabletop.

  “Look at how beautiful they are!” she exclaimed as she showed him her collection.

  “What are you going to do with them all?” Navor asked.

  Sitnalta shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she replied. She looked at the food laid out in front of them. “This looks delicious! I’m so hungry.”

  “Me, too,” Navor said.

  “Then why did you wait for me?” Sitnalta asked as she held out her goblet for Navor to fill with cider.

  “I haven’t been waiting long,” Navor replied. He began to fill his plate with crumbly cheeses, cold meats, and various kinds of fruits. He watched Sitnalta do the same, thinking to himself about how beautiful she looked. He was struck by the image of a younger Sitnalta wholeheartedly digging into a bowl of stew, her hair dappled by sunlight through the trees, feet bare, a large grin on her face. He shook his head to clear his mind, and settled back into his meal.

  “Are you okay?” Sitnalta asked.

  Navor nodded, his mouth full of food.

  “Thank you for this,” Sitnalta said. “You were right. We needed a day off.”

  Navor grinned and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I was what?”

  Sitnalta laughed and threw a grape at him. “I’m not saying it again!” she said.

  “Please?” Navor asked with a pout.

  Sitnalta rolled her eyes. “Fine. You. Were. Right,” she huffed.

  “Always,” he said.

  “Never,” she retorted.

  “Except now.”

  “Fine,” Sitnalta conceded. “Except now.”

  The rest of the day passed with the two of them talking about their lives, their families, their favourite stories and songs. They talked about everything, with the exception of Wilhelm and the coin. They joked with each other, splashed about in the waves, and added to Sitnalta’s seashell collection. They dedicated themselves to spending the day as if they were nothing but a young, carefree couple.

  As the sun began to disappear from the sky, Sitnalta went to help Navor load the saddlebags onto his horse. She was delighted that they had had this time together. It had helped her remember just how much he meant to her as a friend, and as something much more than that.

  “I’m glad you agreed to come with me,” Navor said. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Her childlike glee at seeing seashells for the first time had made him smile. He was so happy that he had been able to give her this day. His heart swelled every time she looked at him.

  “So am I,” Sitnalta replied.

  Navor felt his breath hitch as Sitnalta’s hand brush past his to do up a buckle on the horse’s saddle. She was standing so close to him. Her dress was ruined from the hours spent wading in the sea. Her hair was wild, and she was covered in sand. Yet the Prince thought she had never looked more beautiful.

  “Sitnalta,” Navor said.

  She looked up, a curious look on her face. “Yes?” she asked.

  “Um...” Navor began. “May I...um...may I kiss you?”

  “Oh!” Sitnalta said. She felt her face flush. A nervous fluttering began in her stomach. “Um, yes,” she answered.

  Navor stepped closer to her and cupped the side of her face in his hand. He tentatively pressed his lips to hers.

  Sitnalta let herself relax into the warmth of his hand, and felt the softness of his lips on hers. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, and settled for reaching around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

  Their first kiss had been quick and spontaneous. With the second kiss, they took their time. Sitnalta tried to show him through her actions the words she was too terrified to speak aloud. For her, kissing Navor felt like coming home. It was as if she had found a piece of her that had been missing.

  When they broke apart, they stood looking at each other, eyes shining.

  “I don’t want to head back,” Navor said. “But I think we should if we don’t want my parents sending out a search party.”

  Sitnalta sighed and pulled away from him. “Back to reality,” she said as she mounted her horse.

  Navor did the same and led the way back to the castle.

  The sun had set by the time Sitnalta and Navor left their horses with the grooms. As they left the stables, Sitnalta turned and placed a gentle kiss on Navor’s cheek.

  “I should go and change for supper,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  They walked to the castle hand in hand, only breaking apart when they had to go to their separate rooms.

  Sitnalta changed and scrubbed herself off as best she could, striving to make herself presentable. She tol
d herself that she would bathe properly before bed. She entered the dining hall at the same time as Navor and shyly smiled at him before taking her seat. She noticed an unfamiliar looking man seated beside King Parven and frowned. She was wary of strangers, and the King had not mentioned having any guests over. She examined him, trying to figure out who he was. She noted his close-cropped silver hair, his black goatee, and his eyes of steel. His face was smooth and unblemished, yet his aura seemed as old as time itself.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” Navor said as he sat down beside the guest.

  “That’s quite alright,” King Parven replied. He turned to the man beside him. “My Lord, this is my son: Prince Navor.”

  Navor turned to the guest in greeting and his face went pale. The words died on his lips as their eyes met.

  “How is this possible?” the man asked. “What have you done?”

  “What’s going on?” Queen Kika asked. “How do you know my son?”

  “Silence!” the guest commanded, waving his hands. The King and Queen froze in place.

  Sitnalta’s mouth went dry as she saw what had happened. “You!” she gasped. “You’re —”

  “I am the wizard Kralc,” the man said. His face held a combination of shock and sorrow, but he quickly shook it off, settling on a look of irritability. He gazed at the Princess through heavily lidded eyes. “Now, tell me, Princess, what have you done to my troll?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jail Break

  Ipsinki crept along the outside of the dungeon wall gesturing to the men following his lead. There was no moon in the sky, and they had been waiting impatiently for a night such as this. For what they had planned, darkness was their friend.

  Willem followed his former captain, watching his every move, determined to prove himself, both to the duke, as well as to his one true king. He stopped short as Ipsinki raised his hand to indicate that they had reached their destination.

  Ipsinki crouched down and rapped lightly on the bars covering the small window of one of the upper cells.

  “Who’s there?” a voice weakly responded.

  “A friend to the true King of Colonodona,” Ipsinki replied.

  “I am truly glad to see you, old friend,” the voice said. “I wish we were reuniting under better circumstances. I am Gerald.”

  Ipsinki smiled. “I would have recognized your voice anywhere. I am here with friends. We intend to free you and the Queen tonight.”

  King Gerald nearly wept with joy. It was as if all his prayers had been answered.

  “What do you need me to do?” Gerald asked. “I am ready and willing to do anything you require.”

  Ipsinki handed Gerald a length of chain through the bars. “Can you loop this around and hand both ends back to me?” he asked.

  “Of course,” the King replied, doing as he was told.

  Ipsinki took the chain and turned back to the man in the cell. “Now wait there for Willem to come to the door of your cell.”

  “Where else should I wait?” Gerald asked with a wry smile.

  Ipsinki turned and handed the chain to one of King Parven’s men who had accompanied him. He had so far been impressed with the islanders’ willingness to help Colonodona’s monarchy. The soldier took the chain from Ipsinki and hooked the ends to a waiting plough-horse.

  Ipsinki took Willem’s arm and quickly led him to one of the castle’s back entrances. The two men removed their outer cloaks to reveal the uniforms worn by King Wilhelm’s soldiers and cautiously made their way into the building.

  “How will we know it’s time to get King Gerald out of his cell?” Willem asked. He tried his hardest to keep his voice low and steady. Inside, he was feeling anything but confident. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, hoping Ipsinki wouldn’t see how scared he was.

  “You’ll know,” Ipsinki whispered back. “The distraction is quite obvious. I can promise you that.” He turned and regarded the younger man with concern. “Remember, the King is your responsibility.”

  Willem nodded his head vigorously. “I know,” he said. “I remember exactly what to do.”

  “Good.”

  As they spoke, the two men made their way down the steps to the dungeon. So far, their luck had held out and they saw no one. However, as they slowly walked down, they heard steps approaching from below. Ipsinki held himself erect, walking as if he had every right to be there, while Willem swallowed nervously and shrank back against the wall. He shut his eyes tight and prayed.

  One of King Wilhelm’s men approached the pair on the stairs and Ipsinki’s heart sunk. The vast majority of the soldiers working in the palace on guard duty were men that the new king had brought with him, but a few had stayed on from King Gerald’s staff. The one who approached now was one who had served as Lieutenant under Ipsinki from even back in King Supmylo’s days when Ipsinki was the Captain of the Guards, and Frederic was known well to the duke.

  Frederic stepped closer to the two men making their way down the stairs to the dungeon and frowned. As far as he knew, no one was supposed to be doing rounds at this time of night. As he neared them, his frown deepened. He thought they looked familiar, and the closer he got, the more he was certain that he was right. He made a decision.

  Ipsinki kept on course, trying to keep his face out of the torchlight, as Frederic passed them on the stairs; he leaned closer to his old captain, catching his ear.

  “You have a half hour before the next shift arrives. I’m leaving early tonight,” Frederic whispered. “Stay away from Supmylo. He’s in a foul mood.”

  Ipsinki turned sharply to look Frederic in the eye and was rewarded with a small smile. He felt something cold get pressed into his hand. He looked down and saw that his former lieutenant had handed him a ring of keys.

  “This never happened,” Frederic said to him, and continued his way up the stairs.

  Ipsinki felt a surge of gratitude flood his body, and found himself grinning as he stepped into the hallway lined with cells.

  “Do you believe that happened?” Willem exclaimed quietly.

  “Yes, I do,” Ipsinki replied. “Frederic was always a good man.” He searched the ring of keys for the large iron one that he knew unlocked the dungeon on the deepest level and pulled it free. He turned and handed the rest to Willem. “Get to work. I’m going after the Queen.” He turned and grabbed a torch, preparing to make his way down to complete his task.

  As he started towards the stairs, he heard a commotion coming from a cell to his right. He turned to see Supmylo rush towards him, throwing his body against the bars.

  “You’re lucky I’m in here,” Supmylo sneered at his old captain. “I would crush you with my bare hands if I could. I will destroy you one day. Just you wait and see.”

  “Somehow, I very much doubt that,” Ipsinki dryly replied, as he turned and walked away.

  The sounds of Supmylo’s threats followed him down into the darkness as Ipsinki gingerly made his way down several spiralling flights of stairs. Soon he was so far down that the darkness was almost a tangible presence, swallowing the torchlight before it could do much to chase it away at all. Ipsinki moved mostly by touch and instinct as he felt his way to the cell door he knew was down here. He took his time, and finally felt the cool metal of the handle and lock. Crouching down, he held the torch as close as he could so he could see as he inserted the key. He turned it, and was rewarded with a loud click as the tumblers fell and the door swung open.

  “Who’s there?” Aud called out as she heard the door of her cell swing open. She squinted into the flickering light, trying to see who approached.

  “Your majesty,” Ipsinki replied. “It is I. I’ve come to get you out of here.”

  Aud let out a cry of pure happiness as she rushed towards the torch.

  Ipsinki held back tears as he felt his Queen and his friend embrace him tightly.

  “Let’s get you up to your husband,” he whispered into her ear. Placing h
is arm around her waist, he helped her up the stairs.

  As the two of them made their way up the stairs, Ipsinki became aware of sounds and voices growing louder with each step they took. He turned and gave Aud a worried look in the firelight. She returned his look, eyes wide with fear. They both kept on. Aud recognized one of the voices laughing maniacally as Supmylo, and she flinched, clutching Ipsinki to her as if he were a lifeline. They could hear the clash of sword fighting, and for a moment, Ipsinki considered turning back. Aud felt him hesitate, and shook her head.

  “We press on,” she said, swallowing her fear, and taking more steps forward with a grim determination.

  As Ipsinki placed his hand on the door preparing himself to step into possible battle, he heard the loud crashing of stone and metal being ripped from the wall. He grimly smiled and stepped through.

  It was chaos. Three of Wilhelm’s men were fighting a badly wounded Willem, and Gerald had been freed from his cell. The older man was trying to help Willem, armed only with a torch, and the fire was causing the guards to attack warily, trying to avoid the flames. Ipsinki could see that Parven’s soldiers had done their job, using their horses and the chains they had brought to pull the barred window from the wall of the dungeon, making it unnecessary for them to try to sneak Aud and Gerald through the castle. He grabbed Aud by the hand and ran with her towards the new escape route.

  Gerald turned and saw Ipsinki and his wife running towards the hole in the wall. He stepped forward, pushing one of Wilhelm’s men back.

  “Run!” he shouted at Ipsinki. “Get her out of here!”

  Aud turned toward her husband. “You had better be following me,” she threatened.

  “I will always follow you,” he replied with a warm smile.

  Ipsinki reached the hole with Aud and boosted her up in his arms. One of Parven’s men reached down and pulled her through.

  “Get the Queen to the horses,” Ipsinki commanded him. “The three of us will follow as soon as we can.”

  “I’m not leaving without Gerald!” Aud shouted down at him. “Don’t make me leave him!”