Prince of Secrets and Shadows

by C. S. Johnson

  “From now on,” Harshad muttered, as I wobbled around on the balls of my now-bare feet, “when you come to train with me, you will wear the outfit Lady Penelope has commissioned for you. Skirts are hardly advantageous for these sessions. I would send you back to change, but Lady Penelope insists on hastening your instruction.”

  In other words, he is content to make me suffer from my own poor choices.

  Beside me, Ben worked at a steady pace. The more tired I felt, the more calm he looked. In many ways, he reminded me of Amir, and I both envied and hated him for that.

  Eventually my legs, unaccustomed to the peculiar exercise, began to twinge in pain. It had been several weeks since I worked as a servant, and my muscles resisted the old, familiar movements of chores, even those of a different sort.

  At least Harshad is still someone I can trust more than Cecilia, even if he is less hospitable.

  So far as I knew.

  “Your brother never complained at the pain,” Harshad said, catching me secretly trying to massage my leg cramps.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I said, as I noticed Ben straighten with pride.

  “One does not need to say something in order to communicate.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of physical pain,” I lied. My fists clenched, and my chin shot forward defiantly. “I was thinking of what my mother would say. These sessions are hardly proper.”

  “I taught your mother, too, if that makes you feel less improper.” Harshad waved away my dishonest objection while Ben raised an eyebrow at me.

  At their simultaneous dismissal, I sighed. “I did not mean to insult you, Mr. Prasad.”

  There was nothing reverent or polite in my tone, but I thought an apology might help smooth over our relationship—that approach usually worked with Lady POW—and, as much as I might have hated to admit it, I owed it to him. I had already learned from my time with the Order that I would be expected to do any number of inappropriate actions. Society’s civilized manners were maintained through sacrifice. I did not have to think of anything other than Advent Ball to know this, where my attempts at saving everyone had done nothing to prevent disaster.

  “I do not need your false apologies,” Harshad replied dismissively. “And for the sake of time, you should just refer to me as Harshad.”

  He was right about the fake apology. Every time I opened my mouth, I only seemed to get into more trouble.

  I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

  The time passed more slowly as I remained silent. Ben joined in with me, always careful to show more dedication and discipline. As I watched Ben work, I sincerely hoped Lady Penelope did not want him to come train with me because he was behind in his own espionage instruction.

  Ben had already had close to a month of training with Harshad and Amir, but he had been at the castle when its ballroom walls collapsed, and Lady POW would likely blame him for the destruction as much as she blamed me.

  Well, she likely blamed me more.

  But I could see where Ben would have trouble. His right leg was crooked, and his stance was still uneven, even with the special brace he had built with Amir. He still wobbled a little without his crutch and adjusted his movements in awkward movements.

  Twelve years had gone by since his accident. I was only a little over seven years old when it happened. Máma had been gone for two years, lost at sea, and Táta was just starting to come out of perpetual mourning, staying at home for longer periods of time. Tulia admitted to me a few years later that my father found it easier to pretend my mother was still alive while he was away.

  The day Ben broke his leg, Táta had just arrived home from Vienna. He often reported between the king and Emperor Franz Joseph, passing along information and making requests to politicians from the different branches of the empire. One of my kittens had found a way to slink through the rafters, and I had cried for help. The maids were sympathetic but unwilling to leave their work; the stable hands dismissed my needs; my father was exhausted and ordered no one to pay me any mind.

  But Ben came to my rescue. He patted down my curls, gave me a brotherly hug, and headed up to the top of the barn to rescue my kitty.

  She was such a sweet little kitten, with her large green eyes and black fur. I loved her as my own, and I was terrified when she ran away from me and seemed to be stuck on the roof.

  Ben quickly climbed up next to her; I cheered as he reached for her and scooped her into his arms, only to end my celebration in horror as she wriggled free and Ben lost his balance.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory of my ten-year-old brother’s scream and the distinctive crack! of his leg snapping.

  “Miss Eleanora, are you paying attention?”

  “What?” I blinked, only to see Harshad in front of me, staring down at me from below his thick, pristine-white eyebrows. I blushed, feeling the drops of sweat on my forehead simmer. “What were you saying?”

  “We were discussing the breath. Breathing is very important.”

  I nodded blandly, following through Harshad’s orders as I tried to focus. Ben stood beside me, working through the same fighting motions, and I gave him a smile.

  He gave me a worried look, glancing back at Harshad. In his own way, he was telling me Harshad was serious, and it was best if I adopted a similar demeanor.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but only barely. If Ben knew I had been distracted by the memory of his accident, he would be angry. Ben had forgiven me, but he never wanted me to feel sorry for him.

  “You will be able to sense your body through your breath,” Harshad intoned, drawing my wandering attention back to the present moment. “It moves through your blood and touches every part of you. As you move between your inner self and your full self, breathing will help you focus. It can also ease your pain as you stretch.”

  As I reached down for my toes, I let go of my breath, and the tension inside of me broke. I did not know why I was so surprised that Harshad’s advice continued to prove itself true.

  “You will need to breathe while you keep your stance; for balance, always find something to focus on in the distance. Your focus will determine your perception, and your perception will influence your decisions.”

  Breathing while balancing was difficult, but it did allow me to forget about Ben and my other troubles.

  “The world presses into us at every moment.” Harshad’s lilted words poured over me like a waterfall, both soothing and terrifying as they spouted down wisdom and beauty.

  “You must learn to quiet your mind as it takes in everything around you. Once you quiet your mind, you will be able to better pinpoint the exact issues you need to consider.”

  My legs varied between numb and cramped from all the stretching and standing. I said nothing still, allowing myself to cheer at the ease of this part of my instruction. I had grown up in church, where prayer and meditation were encouraged, and it had a similar process; my weakness was in collecting all the right information, not in determining what to do once I made up my mind.

  “Whether it is a matter of belief, action, or destiny,” Harshad said, “you will only be open to answers when all of your questions have ceased.”

  At that, I was done being submissive. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Discipline, Miss Eleanora,” Harshad remarked, making me squeeze my eyes shut in irritation and shame.

  “Eleanora is fine,” I said. “If I don’t have to use formalities with you, you don’t have to use them with me.”

  “How very democratic of you, Miss Eleanora.”

  I did not like the annoyance in his voice. “Are you going to call Ben, ‘Mr. Ben?’”

  Harshad was momentarily stunned by my question. “My logic makes sense,” he finally replied, ignoring my interruption, “because questions do not answer themselves.”

  “But you’re still asking questions.”

  “Nora, be quiet,” Ben hissed. “You need to—”

  “There will always be q
uestions, Miss Eleanora,” Harshad interrupted, “and only once you are done asking them will you be able to receive answers.”

  I mumbled out a wordless reply, unhappy he was right.

  “It seems suffering in silence is not your strength, Miss Eleanora.”

  It seemed he was just as capable as Lady POW was when it came to hearing my inward thoughts.

  I frowned. “I guess suffering is easier for you and Ben.”

  “Being a cripple does not tend to make life easier, no matter the task,” Ben grunted, and I flushed over in shame. I silently vowed to say nothing further.

  Ben’s life was much harder, and I knew it. Whether it was because he loved me enough to go and retrieve my kitten off the barn roof, or because of our father’s scorn, there was nothing noble about wondering if he had an easier time at training than I did.

  “Envy ruins everything, Miss Eleanora,” Harshad said. “That I know far too well.”

  His words echoed Lady Penelope’s own words from the day before, and I suddenly wondered what Harshad’s past was like, what made him play the spymaster alongside my grandmother. His sentiment seemed very personal. I stared at him for a long moment, trying to imagine the sort of life he had lived, the things that happened to make him make the choices that he did.

  He cleared his throat, and I blushed, realizing I was caught up in my own imagination. I must have made him uncomfortable because his footsteps were very distinct against the floor. “If silence will not stay with you, maybe it is time for you to show me your fighting.”

  The room fell quiet. I heard only the rapid beating of my heart, the slick dripping of my sweat, and the faraway crackle of the fire.

  *5*

  ◊

  “Fighting?” I repeated cautiously, hoping I would still be able to talk my way out of it.

  Much to my displeasure, Harshad ignored me and turned to face Ben. “Are you ready?”

  Ben hesitated for only a second before he nodded.

  “Wait, Ben is going to fight me?” I stood up, forcing myself not to scream as my numbed legs swayed. “Why?”

  “It is just a beginner’s battle,” Ben said. He gave me one of his friendlier smiles, his earlier frustration still there but buried. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” I said, fighting off the urge to rub my legs again. I managed to give Ben a teasing look. “I’m more concerned with how easily I’ll win.”

  Harshad sighed at our verbal sparring before he began snapping out orders and directions.

  “This is a test,” he told me, “to see what you can do with what you know and what you’ve learned.”

  “Ben and I already defeated the assassin at the castle,” I reminded him.

  “But it was not enough to stop the henchman from carrying out his work. You will have other enemies, and you will need to learn how to stop them more quickly.”

  I went back to stewing silently, angered at his remark and frustrated with myself once more. Harshad talked with Ben, discussing their previous instruction on different stances, attacks, and counterattacks.

  “Why are you helping Ben?” I crossed my arms. “That’s not fair.”

  “Life is not fair,” Ben reminded me.

  “Your brother is the better trained between you,” Harshad said, stepping between us. “This is unavoidable for now, and there are two potential issues. One is that his affection for you will affect his performance. The second is, as the better trained fighter, he will be in a position to protect you, should he feel the need to do so.”

  “The second part is negating the first,” I said.

  “Contradictions are not the same thing as paradoxes, Miss Eleanora.”

  Before I could say anything else—likely an objection—I heard a small cough from the other side of the room.

  Amir caught my gaze with his own using Tulia’s gestures to sign his message.

  Go along.

  I traced a few of my fingers in the air, asking a question of my own, and he nodded. I relaxed at his response. In his silent response, Amir promised he would help me later.

  Ben let out a small grunt, and I was surprised to see him glare angrily at Amir. I did not know what Ben was so upset over; he worked with Amir all the time, and Harshad was the one helping him now.

  “Ready?” Harshad called the two of us to attention. After checking our stances and listing some rules, he nodded, and Ben and I faced each other.

  It was at that second that it all seemed too strange to me, to be fighting Ben. I did not like it—not like this. Ben was my brother, after all, and the one person in the world I would never want to hurt.

  “Work on your focus, Eleanora,” Harshad called, as I brushed a few stray hairs out of my eyes.

  At his words, Ben lunged forward; I caught his attack with a block, before twisting my left arm and hitting him back.

  He retreated, and I gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Nora,” Ben said, giving me an aggravated look. “We have done this before, remember?”

  “Not properly,” I murmured, and Ben sighed. He glanced back at Harshad, who was watching us with his hawkish gaze. Ben moved in front of him, blocking Harshad from my view.

  “Why are you always so worried about propriety?” he asked, launching out a series of punches. “It’s not like you will ever truly be accepted into the polite world.”

  I ducked and twirled away, frowning in concentration as much as frustration. “I still have to pretend to fit in with them, if I’m going to help the Order.”

  Ben caught my arm and pulled me in close, trapping me with a headlock. “If you really want to help the Order, you’re going to have to fight me. I can handle your attacks, Nora.”

  I said nothing, partially because I was struggling to breathe, and partly because I knew Ben was right. I would have to learn how to fight, and Harshad was going to see to it that I did it, regardless of how emotionally difficult it was going to be.

  “Would it help you if I pretended I was Alex?” Ben asked. I laughed as I slipped out of his hold.

  “We can try,” I said, stepping back. “But I don’t think you could ever be as evil as Alex. Or Lord Maximillian, come to think of it.”

  “What about Ferdy?” His voice was soft enough that I knew Harshad could not hear.

  I stumbled, nearly falling over as my heart skipped a beat. “Leave Ferdy out of this.”

  Ben groaned. “You can’t be opposed to hurting him, after all he put you through.”

  “Balance, Miss Eleanora,” Harshad snapped.

  “Yes, Harshad,” I muttered back, suddenly angry he was here at all. I turned back to Ben. “I don’t want to talk about him, Ben.”

  “Why? Afraid Ferdy will keep you from winning?” Ben ducked down and managed to land a blow to my legs, sending me crumbling down to my knees.

  I forced myself to swallow my heartbreak. I did not want to think of Ferdy any more than I wanted to fight Ben.

  “Good, Ben,” Harshad said. “Find the weakness and use it.”

  A flicker of sympathy crossed Ben’s face. “Please, Nora,” he whispered as we locked blows again. “Fight me.”

  “I am,” I insisted.

  “Do it better, then. I don’t want to have to bring up Ferdy every time I need you to attack.” Ben shook his head. “You don’t still love him, do you?”

  The question struck me hard, leaving me stunned and still. My hand flew to my chest, pressing into my heart as it beat furiously. Ben’s words cut like an accusation, containing such a level of vitriol and disgust.

  I knew that Ferdy and I could not be together. He was a prince, after all, and he would be expected to marry someone politically beneficial—someone with a standing well above my own, someone whose life was not tainted by abuse and poverty, not to mention the scandal of espionage.

  But I was not able to completely forget Ferdy. Not yet. The worst part was I did not know if I wanted to forget him, either. It was a le
gitimate weakness.

  I fell to my knees, slumping over as I shook my head. “I give up. Ben wins.”

  At the long sigh, I looked up to see the disappointment on Harshad’s face. I expected to see it on Amir’s, too, and I was right—but he was looking at Ben, not me.

  “That is enough for today.” Harshad scowled at me. “I have seen what you and your brother can do. From your years of service under your stepmother, it is clear you have a good deal of flexibility and endurance. Your balance and focus need work in addition to your fighting form. We will spend the next weeks working on building up your strength and then work on technique.”

  “I told you Nora would be a good fighter.” Ben reached down a hand to help me up.

  The self-satisfaction in his demeanor was repugnant, and even more so because I was suffering. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and jerked him hard, forcing him off-balance. His brace clattered as he fell to the ground in front of me.

  “Ouch!” Ben grabbed his right leg, hurrying to check on his brace.

  For the first time in a long time, I could see the terrible bend in his limb; his lower leg jutted out to the side from the knee, more curved than crooked from where he had grown over the years. There was a small indent in his calf where the temporary splint had cut into his skin for weeks after the fall.

  A spring had shaken loose, and there were several shimmers of metal on the floor beside us as the other parts began to bend and twist out of sync.

  “Well, that is one way to use weakness,” Harshad said. “A point for Miss Eleanora.”

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” I sputtered, feeling sick as Ben glared at me. “I didn’t, I promise. It was just an accident. I didn’t mean—”

  “Stop it,” Ben snapped, already retreating from me. “It’s over. There’s no need to pretend anymore.”

  He found a way to stand using his other leg. Without the brace, I could see his limp was much more exaggerated and painful. As he stood, I hurried up next to him, grabbing his arm to help.

  “Get away from me.” Hatred burned in his blue-green eyes. “I can do this myself.”