“Where are the prisoners?” I called down to him.
He shook his head, his face haunted. “None survived. They fought to the last man, and despite our efforts, we could not save any of their wounded.”
My camel moved off to join a small waiting crowd, and I looked back at him over my shoulder. His expression confirmed the sinking feeling in my gut. This had been no ordinary group of bandits.
My own throat felt parched and dry during that desperate nighttime ride. Thankfully a clear night had followed the hot day, and the stars kept us on course. When we reached the oasis at last, I would have cried if I had any moisture left to leak.
One of my travel companions helped me down from my camel, respect in his eyes. “I admit, I wasn’t sure, but…”
I could feel no resentment at his doubt. I had doubted myself. I tried to reassure him, but my dry throat could barely form words. I managed to muster a small smile before stumbling the last few steps and thrusting my whole face into the water, just as the animal beside me did.
As soon as the humans had drunk our fill, we began to fill the skins we had brought, loading them carefully onto the replenished camels’ backs. When we had loaded them all, we wearily remounted and began the ride back.
The camels seemed ready to drop by the time the camp came back into sight, and many people ran forward to relieve them of their loads. I tried to help, but Frederic caught me as I swayed and almost fell.
“Steady there,” he said in my ear. “You’ve done your part tonight.” Scooping me into his arms, he cradled me against his chest, the rocking motion of his walk and the warmth of his chest against my face soothing me into a half doze. Someone else had been carried like this today, I remembered, but I could not force my brain to form proper thoughts.
I was laid gently on a bed and thought I felt lips press against my hair. But that part might have been a dream.
The next morning, I led the rest of the camels to the oasis. The animals that had worked so hard the night before still rested, along with most of the camp. The remaining camels could easily bring enough water back for all the humans, leaving no need to attempt to move the wounded yet.
All three royals accompanied me, along with half the remaining guard and Tillie, who had barely left Cassian’s side since the attack. Cassian, a proud and somewhat dumbfounded expression perpetually on his face, had regained his confidence. He made no secret of their engagement, and the poor caravan master had been swept along with the plan with a look of utter confusion. He could hardly refuse his permission for his daughter to wed a Lanoverian prince. I wished their betrothal could have come under happier circumstances, but at least Tillie seemed to find great solace for her grief in Cassian’s steady presence.
The oasis looked different in the light of day, the water sparkling and blue against the yellow sand around it. Several palm trees grew on the fringe, along with some hardy desert grass, and the green and yellow along with the brilliant blue of the sky created a striking picture. Many of those who had accompanied us plunged fully clothed into the water and swam through the softly burbling pool.
A quick look passed between Celine and me, and then we were running for the water ourselves. The feeling of the cool water and the weightlessness as I floated seemed to lift off my pressures in some impossible way. I had done it. I had found the oasis, I had led everyone to the water we so desperately needed.
Tears welled, washed away before they could even fall. I just wished we could have done it without the heavy price.
But when I mentioned the thought to Frederic, who had joined us, he shook his head. Glancing around to see who was in earshot, he spoke quietly to Celine and me.
“Bandits don’t dress as royal guards, and they don’t come this far into the desert. They must have been rebels, it’s the only explanation. We think they meant to destroy the caravan, as Caravan Osmira was once destroyed, but this time the fallen attackers left behind with the trader dead would have appeared to be crown men.”
I had to admit the thought had occurred to me, and I had even forced myself to walk the line of enemy dead, looking for a single familiar face. The looming dread that hung over me due to Marcus’s freedom had faded in the jungle, a place that had no connection with him. But with the attack, the old fear had come rushing back. But I had seen no sign of him.
“But what of us?” asked Celine. “What reason could they give for the royal guard attacking us?”
Frederic shrugged. “I suspect the plan was to keep us alive and take us as hostages. It was a bold concept, and no doubt concocted to sow fear and confusion on both sides, as Father would no doubt question if the traders themselves had taken us.”
He looked over at me. “And their plan would likely have worked if not for you, Evie.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. It must have been them who filled in the oasis. They hoped to drive us hard for Largo, and no doubt had an ambush set up just before the edge of the desert, planning to attack when we were at our weakest. But instead we turned this way. They had to ride hard to catch us, and they had to attack sooner than they had planned. And in so doing, they lost the element of surprise. Their force wasn’t strong enough to take a full caravan in a defensive position.”
I let myself fall back into the water as I processed his words. So much more had been riding on my head than even I realized.
“Instead of disaster and a kingdom plunged into chaos, this attack has actually left us in a stronger position.”
“Stronger?” asked Celine.
“The merchants and traders, instead of turning against the crown, now stand with us against the rebels. It is the rebels who have violated the ancient treaty, not us. It was a bold gamble on their part, and it hasn’t paid off.”
I thought of the row of motionless bodies and shivered. How many had to pay the price for future peace? I supposed it was always so in times of war. And it was increasingly clear that war was exactly was this was—even if it was a strange, guerrilla kind.
When we returned to the camp, plans were made to move on as soon as the worst of the wounded could be moved. Messengers had already been sent out to the other camel caravans and to the merchant caravans currently in Lanover. Any of the smaller ones who doubted their capacity to protect themselves would go to ground. The others would be ready for any attack. I didn’t think the rebels would try that strategy again, however.
No one asked me for my opinion, but I announced that I would be publicly declaring the location of the Osmira Oasis to the other caravans. The caravan master made no protest, although he gave me a rather crestfallen look.
“A gift from Caravan Osmira to all the traders,” I said. “In exchange for the oasis that has been lost.”
Frederic approved my actions and said he would have a formal announcement and map drawn up to be distributed to each of the caravans.
Two days later we rode out. The night before, Frederic, Cassian, Celine and I gathered as we generally did. Only this time our small group was enlarged by the presence of Tillie. The caravan master’s daughter would be riding on with the Tour along with a small contingent of traders, her handmaidens of a sort. I knew her father had wanted her to stay with them to travel to Lanare, but she had refused to be parted from Cassian.
“This rebellion must be stopped, and soon,” said Cassian, his voice hard, but his arm gentle around his betrothed’s shoulder.
Frederic nodded. “Everywhere we’ve gone, they’ve attempted to wreak chaos and destruction, undermining the crown’s control. And always they’ve striven to make someone else appear the villain. But none of the communities we’ve visited have been responsible. No, the center of all this still lies ahead.”
“Largo.” I said, and it wasn’t a question. Somehow I had always known—from the moment I had agreed to this trip and long before I heard the itinerary. I was returning to where it had all begun.
Part III
Largo and Home
Chapter 24
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nbsp; The traders brought their full caravan to the town east of Largo where they had left the rest of their people. Many times on our journey I heard the murmured words of relief that the most vulnerable among the traders had not been present for the attack. But our arrival at the town that hosted them drained us all, our grief resurfacing as we broke the terrible news to those waiting and expecting a joyful reunion with their caravan.
The entire caravan would have accompanied us on to Largo, but Frederic refused the gesture. “Stay here, grieve, care for your wounded. We need only two strings to carry our baggage.”
And so we were a greatly reduced group when we reached the gates of Largo, the great jungle city of the south. Largo perched like a jewel between the desert, the jungle, and the sea, the one large city where the caravans would go. Built on Largo Bay with its deep-water port, the trading hub had become the center of the south. It was here I had been born.
Many people loved the diverse community that called Largo home, but I had always been more interested in the varied styles of clothing they brought with them. Every design known in the kingdoms seemed to walk these streets, a beautiful counterpoint to the bright colors of the northern jungle which still flourished here, giving a vibrant edge to even the most mundane aspects of life. It had been a shock to me when I eventually discovered that it was only in Largo, alone in Lanover, that pale-skinned northerners were almost as common a sight as the darker-skinned locals and that desert traders mixed freely with city-dwellers. Apparently its remote position at almost the southern-most tip of the Four Kingdoms suggested adventure and freedom to many. But I had not found freedom here.
Riding through the eastern gates felt more like a homecoming than any other arrival of our journey. And yet the city looked unfamiliar, too. I had grown accustomed, it turned out, to the lower level of moisture in the air in Lanare and to the constant sight of reddish sandstone that dominated the capital. Lanare had an almost dusty feeling that Largo lacked, but the air didn’t attempt to stifle me with every breath.
The royals had been provided camels to ride as well as the animals carrying the baggage, but everyone had elected to enter the city on foot. I suspected they wished to avoid a spectacle after all the trouble with the rebels. My eyes roamed restlessly around the streets as we walked, sub-consciously looking for familiar faces as I spied familiar streets and buildings. But I had left Largo at the age of nine. The faces I had known best then had likely changed beyond recognition by now, their owners grown to adulthood, as had I.
We made straight for the governor’s mansion at the center of the city, a building I had never before entered. Being ushered through its double doors alongside royalty felt so intensely surreal that for a moment I wondered if the last months had truly been only a dream, and I would wake to find myself back in my bed in Lanare.
But no such awakening occurred. Instead I was treated to a welcome feast, and the seemingly endless ramblings of the governor who expressed over and over again his shock at the recent attack and his assurance that the princes’ messages to their father would be delivered with the swiftest haste. It came back to me with blinding clarity that the man had always been unsuited for his role. A bureaucrat when a true leader was needed to hold sway over such a large and diverse populace. He had no doubt received the role because his father had held it before him and his father before that. And the earls of Largo had always been unswervingly loyal to the crown. So while their noble position didn’t necessitate their receiving the role of governor, it seemed it had always been so.
I sighed and pushed my food away. It frightened me how quickly I slipped into the mindset of a Largoan, laughing at the inadequacies of the governor and seeing the crown as something distant and foreign. Here, perhaps more than anywhere else, I would have to watch my step.
Frederic and Cassian would have filled the next day with meetings, but Celine insisted we all needed to visit the market.
“We spent a few hours there last year when I came here with Rafe and Celeste,” she said, naming her third brother and middle sister. “But we hardly had any time in Largo. It was incredible, though!” She rounded on me. “Tell them, Evie!”
I smiled. “It’s true that even locals love the markets.” The governor’s mansion might be the geographical center of the city, but its true heart was the nearby marketplace, bigger than any other I had seen since.
“These meetings are important,” Cassian reminded his sister. I suspected his reluctance might have something to do with Tillie who was occupied at the mansion for the day with the small number of Traders who had accompanied us and who would leave the next day to escort the two strings of camels back to the rest of the caravan.
She put her hands on her hips. “And the markets aren’t? You heard what Evie said of them. You should be thinking more like Celeste.”
An expression of consternation crossed his face at the mention of their sister who had been gifted with exceptional intelligence and used it to develop an expertise in spy craft, among other things. He glanced at Frederic.
“Perhaps she’s right,” said Frederic. “We might learn more among the people than we will among the governor and his men.”
When I rolled my eyes without thinking at the mention of the governor, he looked at me thoughtfully. “Yes, I think we had best visit the markets after all.”
I insisted we go at the time of the midday meal since the food stalls sold as broad a range of delicacies as were represented by Largo’s people. My favorites, however, were the succulent skewers of meat cooked with a blend of local spices. That stall had always been the most popular at the market.
Relief filled me to see it was still there, and no one protested when I suggested we eat first and nose around after. And with the smells of my chosen stall filling the surrounding area, no one protested my choice of food, either.
When every last piece of our meat had been devoured, we moved aimlessly among the seemingly endless stalls. How many countless hours of my childhood had I spent here? I picked out several familiar faces among the stallholders, but no one appeared to recognize me. And I did not expect them to. They no doubt saw an elegant noble girl whose clothes rivaled those worn by the royalty beside her. Who would connect me with the orphan girl, half street urchin, who had once dashed between the stalls without even shoes?
I flushed and glanced at my companions. Would they see me differently if they knew? The well-off citizens of Largo had always thought it mattered, and being here brought it all rushing back. But I reminded myself of the desert. I had wronged them by believing the royals were the same. And no matter how hard it went against my instincts, I wanted to continue to choose to trust them.
I plastered a smile on my face and reminded myself I wasn’t the same girl who had started on this Tour. I had outgrown her. Yet the past still weighed heavy on my mind as my eyes wandered from stall to stall.
For that reason, I didn’t at first believe my eyes when I spotted a familiar face that stood out from the others. A familiar face that didn’t belong here in Largo. I almost stumbled to a halt, gripping the arm of whoever walked nearest me, which turned out to be Frederic.
“Frederic,” I breathed, the word so faint he probably couldn’t hear me above the normal hubbub of the market. I forced air into my lungs to make the next word louder. “Marcus.”
Frederic, who had instantly stopped at my grip, followed my gaze. “Cassian, over here.”
The other two turned and hurried back to us. I still hadn’t moved, my eyes locked across a vast distance of marketplace with my old nemesis. He had clearly seen us as well.
“Guards!” called Frederic, and the small contingent that had been trailing behind us trotted to catch up the few steps that separated us. He pointed at one of them. “You, stay to guard the girls. The rest of you, with us.”
He didn’t stop to give Celine a chance to complain but took off running through the market, shoving people aside as necessary, his brother at his side and the rest of the guards on
his heels. Marcus, his eyes finally breaking from mine, turned and fled.
“Typical,” said Celine. “No one ever wants to include me in the action.” But she made no attempt to follow them, for which I was more than grateful. I would have felt honor bound to follow and attempt to stop her, and I had no desire to get closer to Marcus.
“I think I should escort you back to the governor’s mansion,” said the remaining guard, looking around the crowded market uneasily.
Apparently this was a line too far for Celine, however, who instantly entered into an argument with him. I tuned her out and looked around, wondering what the market would make of the disturbance. But already people were moving again, talking as if nothing had happened. The crowd jostled me on several sides, and I decided to lend my hearty support to the guard.
But when I turned to do so, I found myself alone. My breaths came hard and fast as I looked around for Celine’s familiar face. Where could she have gone? She had been here just a moment ago. I told myself how easy it was to get separated in a crush such as this, but I couldn’t rein in the fear that she had been abducted from under my nose.
But my heartbeat finally calmed when I got a distant glimpse of her. The grim-looking guard was hauling her forcibly back toward the mansion. She had either angered him enough that he decided to take the risk of manhandling a princess, or he had decided that any penalty he received would be far lighter than the one he might get for failing in his duty to keep her safe.
I hurried after them.
But as I took a shortcut between two stalls, skirting the edges of the public garden that bordered the marketplace, strong arms lifted me from my feet. I screamed and thrashed, but the man quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. The sound of my struggles was easily lost in the noise around us. I kicked backward but couldn’t gain enough leverage to do any real damage.
And then the prick of a blade dug into my ribs. I instantly stilled.
The Princess Search: A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling (The Four Kingdoms Book 5) Page 19
