by Serena Rose
They had spoken some during the journey, about her childhood in the village, but much of their time had been taken up with baby-juggling, and she wished she’d taken the time to ask him about himself or to apologize for her less than pleasant reception of him.
Alaia sighed and laid Naia down in the crib beside her siblings. Their chest of belongings had already been brought up and was sitting in the corner under the window. She wondered if she should change clothes before dinner, but nothing she had seemed at all fit for a prince, even one who lived in a ramshackle mansion in a graveyard.
What she really wanted was a bath, despite the fact that she’d had one just a few days before. There was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” she asked, tensing. Zorion hadn’t specifically said so, but she had a feeling there weren’t a large number of people he trusted.
“It’s Lorea. Can I come in? I just wanted to talk to you.” Her voice sounded anxious. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, and Alaia could tell that she was worried for her brother. No matter what happened, she felt it would be a good idea to reassure Zorion’s sister.
She opened the door, and Lorea stepped inside, her hands clasped before her in a familiar gesture of appeasement. “I just wanted to apologize if I seemed a little… suspicious. Zorion’s always been so standoffish with women, and he never said anything about you, to me at least. It seems Itzal knew,” she added with a sour twist of her mouth.
“It’s all right,” Alaia said. “I’m sure if in your position, I would have felt the same way. But I didn’t even know Zorion was the prince until two days ago. I hadn’t seen him since Heartfire.”
“I know,” Lorea said, now grinning. “Itzal told me you gave him such an earful when he showed up to your house unannounced that it shook the leaves from the trees.”
“I hope he’s exaggerating,” Alaia replied, her face getting hot. “I was a bit surprised.”
“Sounds like my brother deserved it,” Lorea said with a good-natured shrug. “Are the babies asleep? I didn’t really get a good look at them before, and no one even told me their names.” Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, and Alaia found herself smiling.
“They are asleep, but you can look in the crib,” she said, and they both went back to peer at the children, all tightly swaddled and dreaming away. “Their names are Izar, Naia, and Zuzen.”
Lorea sighed with a smile that was already besotted. The triplets did seem to have that effect on people. “They’re adorable. They even look a bit like him, but mostly they just look like babies.”
Alaia laughed because it was true, and they moved away from the crib again, sitting down at a small table near the window. The promised refreshments had been set out, and the pot of coffee was still steaming. After a few moments spent attending to their drinks, Lorea looked up. “There was one other thing I wanted to ask you.”
Alaia blinked and gestured for her to continue. “Do you even like Zorion? I mean, do you want to be with him? Most girls wouldn’t turn down a marriage proposal from a prince, even if they were angry. I was surprised to hear that. I thought maybe you were in love with someone else or something.”
Alaia bit her lip, unsure how to answer. It was passing too close to her most secret hopes. “It’s not that I dislike him. There’s no one else,” she said carefully. “If he had sent me a marriage offer after Heartfire, I would have accepted it. It’s just… I don’t want to be married out of pity, or even duty. If I cannot be loved for myself, I’d rather stay unwed.”
Lorea didn’t seem displeased by this answer. She nodded thoughtfully, chin resting on one hand. “I think I understand. I really hope things work out between you.”
“Thank you,” Alaia said, glancing back to the crib. “I… do too.” Lorea left a little while later, and Alaia lay down in the too soft bed. So much had happened in the past day, she could hardly comprehend it, but she was exhausted enough to fall into a light doze until Zuzen woke her, his furious wail of hunger waking his sisters as well.
Alaia took a deep breath and lifted him from the cradle, freeing his arms from the swaddling cloth before putting him to her breast. As his crying subsided the other two quieted, though they continued to grunt with infant annoyance.
“Alaia,” Zorion’s muffled voice came through the door. “Can I come in?” She only hesitated a moment. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her nursing before. And much more, at Heartfire, she reminded herself with a rush of heat to her cheeks.
“Yes, I’m just feeding them,” she called back. He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him swiftly.
‘I heard crying as I was passing by, and I wanted to talk to you anyway,” he said, but his cheeks were flushed. She had the sudden mental of image of him waiting outside the door, trying to think of something to say. “Can I do anything?” he asked, his eyes firmly affixed to her face.
“You can hold Izar and Naia until it’s their turn,” Alaia replied, nodding to the crib. He smiled. Perhaps that was exactly what he had hoped for.
“You asked about the ceremony,” he said once he had the girls settled in his arms. “I thought we should talk about it now, before I get sucked into the preparations again.”
“I suppose my first question ought to be when it is,” she said. “You said it’s on your 21stt birthday?” For some reason, she expected him to be older, perhaps because he had seemed so much more confident at Heartfire than she felt.
“Yes,” he replied, though most of his attention was on Izar and Naia. They were gazing at him with wide eyes, and one of them was cooing happily. “It’s in three days. We don’t generally do a lot of celebrating, so as not to catch Imanol’s attention, and the actual ritual will take place at midnight. Normally, it would be at the High Temple, but Osane doesn’t want to endanger the younger priestesses by associating them with the rebellion, so the ceremony will be out in the back garden.”
“It seems like this is a little more important than your average coming of age,” Alaia said. “If you were going to overthrow Imanol anyway, why wait until now?”
“It is much more than that. My mother carried the blood of the dragon, a real power, not a symbolic thing, and now it has passed to me. But by tradition, the power will not awaken until I turn twenty-one.
I could tell you more, but I’m not certain you’d believe me until you see it for yourself. In any case, once I have mastered the power of the dragon, I will be ready to confront Imanol. I only hope the people will rally behind me.”
“Is it dangerous?” she found herself asking.
“The ceremony, you mean?” His eyes met hers with evident surprise. “It shouldn’t be. Of course, once I move against Imanol, we will all be in danger, but I assure you that the safety of you and the children is my top priority,” he said as Alaia moved Zuzen to her shoulder. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about everything. I should have stayed on Heartfire to at least… explain, to let you make your own decision.”
“I understand why you did what you did,” she said, stepping over to the crib to lay Zuzen down and then moving to take Naia from Zorion. Only, their eyes met again, and for a moment, Alaia felt frozen by the regret and hope and warmth she saw there. “I… I am sorry for treating you so harshly. These past few months have been difficult, alone. I had my parents, but it wasn’t the same.
And then you showed up without warning. I suppose I let loose all my frustration at once.” She managed to recover herself enough to pick up the baby, but Zorion reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch set her heart racing, and her face went hot.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly. “The fault was mine. I should have been there. I wish I had been, but I cannot change what has happened, only what happens in the future. I will be here, as much as you want me to be.” She found it difficult to deny the rush of warmth in her chest, though a stubborn part of her heart wished to. Luckily, getting Naia to nurse provided a pe
rfect excuse to look away, hiding her turbulent emotions behind her hair.
“I’m sure you’ll be busy,” she squeaked out. There was a pause. She hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings. It was just too much too soon.
“I’d still like to help when I can,” he finally said. “And speaking of help, Maude said she has a niece that could come here and help you with the children if that’s something you would want.”
Again, her pride reared its head. She didn’t need help with her children. Except that she knew that she did. And furthermore, if she was ever going to get closer to Zorion, to try to make a home here in this strange and frightening new place, she would need to have some time for herself. “I might. I’d like to meet her first.”
“I’ll have her come over tomorrow then,” he said. She finally felt like she could look at him again. He was looking out the window, his expression thoughtful. She wondered what he was thinking about. When Naia was done eating, she took Izar from his arms, and he didn’t reach for her. “Dinner is in an hour. Probably less now,” he amended. “I suppose I’ll see you then.”
“Thank you for your help,” she said, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. His eyes went wide, and she turned away, feigning nonchalance. After a moment or two of silence, they both heard Itzal calling his name from the hallway. He left the room quickly, but not before Alaia noted a flush on the back of his neck.
CHAPTER FOUR
Maude brought her niece, a cheerful apple-cheeked girl at least a year younger than Alaia, to the house just after breakfast. Galena certainly seemed like she knew what she was doing, and unlike Alaia, didn't get flustered when all three children were screaming at once.
Apparently, Galena was the oldest of seven children. Alaia watched her clean and dress the triplets with her heart in her mouth, but she couldn’t find any faults. Maude had also suggested that Alaia get a wet nurse, at least at night, and she had agreed to think about it, but it was difficult to let so many new people into her children’s lives.
Her maternal instincts rebelled even though the prospect of more sleep sounded fantastic.
“She's safe,” said a voice at her side, and she jumped. Itzal was standing next to her, his hands held behind his back. He was darker-skinned even than Zorion with medium brown hair shorn close to his skull. His pale gray eyes were startling in contrast and sharp as the dagger at his waist.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said, though his sly smile suggested that he wasn't all that sorry. “I just meant to say that I've had Galena and her family looked into. They don't have any ties to the king, and Maude has been loyal to us for years, so the children should be as safe as we can make them. She’s been helping with her siblings and the neighborhood children for years, and they all love her.”
Alaia frowned. The information was comforting, but she found the idea of Itzal prying into everyone’s private lives somewhat unsettling. “Is that your job? To look into people for Zorion? Did you look into me too?”
“It’s part of my job, yes. I gather information of all kinds: messages from allies, rumors, enemy troop movements. But I actually didn't look into you, though I was the one who delivered the news of the children’s birth. There hardly seemed to be a point to examine your loyalties, as it’s obvious you had no knowledge of Zorion's identity or contact with anyone outside your village.”
That didn't make her feel any better. It was like Itzal was suggesting she wasn’t important enough to betray them. Not that she would. She supposed it was a silly thing to be mad about. But if Itzal was in charge of information, maybe he wouldn't mind giving it out. “How long have you worked for Zorion?”
“When you put it that way, I feel so mercenary,” Itzal said with a chuckle. “I do work for Zorion, I suppose, but we’re also friends. We were raised together. My father was sword master for his mother, and I started out as a page. They noticed I had a knack for picking up gossip so I was apprenticed to the spymaster. By the time of the coup, I was one of his lieutenants. I escaped the castle and warned Zorion not to return, and I never left.”
“You've known him a long time,” Alaia said, a strange wistfulness welling up within her. Around her, Zorion was quiet, gentle, and earnest, but she knew that couldn't be the whole truth. He'd been running some sort of underground resistance for years without his cousin finding out, so he had to be skilled at dissembling. She had to wonder, was the person he showed to her his true self?
“You want to know more about him? About whom he really is? If you're willing to leave the children for an hour or so, I can show you what you need to know,” Itzal said, his eyebrows flicking upward in a challenging manner. His skill at predicting the turn of her thoughts was slightly disturbing. Alaia looked back at the triplets. She had fed them an hour ago, and now, clean and dressed, they were lying on the rug making attempts at rolling themselves over while Galena watched.
“You are sure they’ll be all right with her?” Alaia asked. She was eager to learn more about the man whose life and heart had become tangled up with hers, but the idea of leaving her children with a stranger was hard to accept. Still, if Zorion trusted Itzal, she had to believe she could trust him too. It was too difficult not to trust anyone.
“Like I said, as safe as they can be. But I'll send Lorea in here if it will make you feel better.” Despite only knowing her for a day, Alaia felt more comfortable leaving the children with Zorion’s sister, and a moment later, she was following Itzal down the hall and into the bedroom next to hers. Zorion's room, she remembered, her cheeks flushing.
It was unoccupied, and Itzal went to one of the bookshelves, his fingers brushing lightly over the spines of the books. She took the opportunity to look around the room, which was decorated in dark blue, silver and gold. The ceiling was painted with a fanciful rendition of the night sky and the tapestries on the wall depicted the ocean and the forest at night. The curtains around the four-poster bed were open, and a familiar lantern hung inside. Alaia’s heart turned over, and then a strange scraping noise made her glance back at Itzal. He grinned at her, no doubt at her amusing expression of surprise. Where the bookcase had been a moment ago, there was now a dimly lit stairwell leading downward.
“The house is full of secret passageways leading down into the crypts,” he said. “We blocked most of them off for security reasons, but this one has its uses. Follow me, if you will.”
The stairway was dark and forbidding, but once again, Itzal gave her that challenging look, and she drew herself up to her full height and went after him without complaint. By the time they reached the first landing, she wished she'd dressed more warmly. The torches guttered in unseen drafts, and her breath fogged the air in front of her face. Still they continued downward, and the sound of voices drifted to her ears, echoing eerily against the stone.
When the stairs ended, they stood on the edge of large underground room in which ten or more people were working, moving baskets, barrels, and crates of food, sorting, counting, and repacking it. “What is this place?” Alaia asked. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this.
“Imanol’s policies have created food shortages in the capital, as you saw, but most of the villages, especially in the south, have a surplus. We’re just handling the redistribution. Secretly, of course,” Itzal replied. Alaia had a flashback to just a month earlier, helping her mother pack cheese and sausages and bread into a crate for those less fortunate. She hadn't understood what she meant then. There were no starving people in the village.
Her parents were part of the resistance. Of course, they would be. After what had happened to Danel, they held no love for the king, but Alaia wished she’d been let in on the secret.
Just then, another man appeared in the passageway opposite them, carrying a crate. It was too dark to make out his face, but he spoke as he set his burden down on a nearby table, confirming Alaia’s suspicions as to his identity. “That should be the last of it,” Zorion said, making his way to a
n older man standing in the center of the room with a parchment and quill.
“The baskets should be ready for delivery this evening,” the other man said. “I know I’ve said this before, but you really ought to let the others handle the rest, your Highness. It’s too risky for you to be out there in person.”
“You know I like to see the people I’m helping for myself,” the prince replied. “But this time, I will take your advice. I have several other demands on my time, after all. You’ll see to the payments?” he asked, pulling a pouch of money from his belt and setting it on the table. Alaia could hear the heavy clink of coins even from where she stood.
“Of course, my prince, but the villagers tell me you could pay them about half as much as you do. The price of food in the south remains low.”
Zorion shook his head. “Right now, that gold is best spent in the villages. The king would notice if I gave it away to people here, and the price of basic goods is so high it would be a waste, anyway. There’s no point in me hoarding it. Once I take the throne, I hope some of the people I overpaid will come here to help rebuild.”
“As you say,” the other man said. “I was meaning to ask you if there was any truth to the rumors…?” The rest of his question was cut off by someone’s exclamation. Apparently, Alaia and Itzal’s intrusion had finally been noticed. Itzal waved, but Zorion hurried over anyway.
“What are you two doing down here? Is everything all right?” he asked. Alaia had never seen him so fierce before, and he gripped one of her shoulders tightly. She doubted he even knew he was doing it; his eyes were wide with fear.
“Everything is fine. The children are with your sister and the new nursemaid, but Alaia was curious about our activities. I figured I may as well show her what goes on down here,” Itzal said, and Zorion let out a huge sigh, and his fingers loosened.
“As you can see, it’s nothing particularly interesting,” he said with a wry smile.
