Prince of Secrets and Shadows

by C. S. Johnson

  “I honestly did not notice.”

  She did not seem to hear me. “I should have called for that messenger boy. You remember him, don’t you? Ferdy, that was his name. He always seemed so eager to pick up work, but not as much in recent days.”

  “It is probably the weather,” I said softly. I did not have time to get caught up in mourning his loss anymore, and I really did not want to hear what Madame Balthazar thought of his passing.

  “Perhaps, but not likely.” She huffed. “I know for a fact he’s been fighting again. There is a mission house that feeds those in poverty at the docks where a friend of mine works, and she says he’s been causing trouble for the last few days.”

  I did not hear the rest of her words, as she complained about everything from the weather to the trouble that beggars and urchins caused. All I could hear was my heart beating between my ears while my skin started to prickle. I felt numb to the world, as if I had been shocked out of time’s pull and then smashed back into it.

  Was it possible Madame Balthazar was right? Ferdy was alive?

  “You said he at the docks?” I repeated. The words tumbled off my tongue, thick and cluttered together, as though I was suddenly speaking a foreign language.

  “Yes. Otherwise I would have sent him to find the midwife, of course.”

  “Nora? Is that you?”

  Behind me, Ben appeared in the doorway. He had a confused look on his face, but I was at too much of a loss to say anything coherent.

  Ferdy could be alive.

  My mind reeled, first with unbelievability, and then broken with bursting, unbridled hope. It hurt to think that it could be wrong, but there was nothing I wanted to be true more ardently in that moment.

  “Which dock is it?” I asked, turning back to Madame Balthazar. “Tell me where he is.”

  She looked shocked at my impropriety. “What? Why would—”

  “Just tell me, please.” I did not mean to sound like a desperate beggar, but there were any number of thoughts and feelings jumbled together inside of me, and everything from Karl, to Lady Penelope, to Lumiere and the mission—everything was lost as I suddenly had hope.

  “He was at the Port of Prague, down by the riverfront.” Madame Balthazar gave me the direction, and I hurriedly thanked her.

  Before I could head toward the port, Ben came up beside us. I remembered the reason I had come, and hurried to usher Madame Balthazar toward the Cabal, telling her that Eliezer’s wife was the midwife she needed.

  The second Madame Balthazar was inside the Cabal and out of earshot, I grabbed a hold of Ben.

  “Nora, what’s wrong?” Ben asked. “What was that all about? Why are you here?”

  “Things have changed. I need you to go to the castle,” I said. There was too much to tell him, and I felt the words surge out of me like water from a broken dam. “Amir came back, and Karl is keeping Lady POW prisoner somewhere. Harshad and Xiana will be there shortly.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ben asked.

  I was already moving as I hollered back to Ben. “Just go. I’ll meet you at the castle. I have to check on something first.”

  “Nora!” Ben called back to me, followed by murmurs of sentences dotted with garbled phrases. Other than my name, I was not certain of what he said as I sped away.

  It was likely something I ultimately did not want to hear. I knew I was already running behind schedule by stopping off to send Ben to the castle with the rest of us, and anything he said might have convinced me to stop my sudden quest.

  And I had to know if Ferdy was alive.

  ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

  The Port of Prague was not welcoming to any aristocrat at night, let alone a lady. I was glad I had shed my gown earlier; I could move more freely. I even managed to use some of the stealth techniques I learned from Xiana and Harshad as I made my way through the loading port.

  Weaving through the tight spaces and the winding walkways, keeping as much to the darkness as I could, I tried not to think about the passing time. I could only be grateful I had sent Ben. He would be able to help the others in my place, and that gave me a little time to pursue my own interests.

  And that was important, because of what they would see me doing, too.

  I tried not to cringe at the thought; Lady Penelope would chastise me for sure, and I would further fall from grace. It did not take much for me to imagine her boxing my ears for this, especially since the last time I went looking for the younger prince of Bohemia, I had gotten caught up in the partial collapse of the castle.

  But this is worth it.

  If he was here, everything would be worth it.

  But, I thought, it would still be better if I could take care of this business quickly.

  Fortunately, it did not take me long to find the warehouse Madame Balthazar spoke of. I crept up to the backdoor from the outside, surprised to find it was unlocked.

  As I stepped inside, a nearby flickering light whispered at the intrusion. I could feel the cold of winter much more sharply, and I held my breath as I acclimated to the putrid smell.

  “Oh my, what is that?” I whispered, struggling not to choke. I had hoped the sound of my voice would comfort me, but I barely heard myself as the growing jeers and cheers from the other side of the hallway suddenly escalated.

  I pulled my hood up more tightly to my face, and I secured my mask while I walked toward the sounds. I was able to see through the small sliver of the doorway.

  For all the good it ended up doing.

  The only thing I could see was a crowd of dock workers, many curled up in shabby clothes. Several were smoking cigarettes, and I briefly wondered if Jarl would be impressed or appalled at their choices.

  After a silent, desperate prayer—was there any other kind I was offering to God of late?—I slowly opened the door and slid to the side.

  No one noticed me on the outskirts of the crowd, and I relaxed to the slightest degree.

  Until I saw why everyone was cheering.

  There were two men, shirtless and covered in sweat, throwing punches, fighting with a force that shook me as I watched.

  It was only as I watched the one fighter take a direct hit to the side of his torso and fall back that I recognized him.

  Ferdy.

  *20*

  ◊

  It seemed to be a combination of shock, anger, and joy that stopped me from moving. From breathing, really.

  He is alive. Oh, thank you, Lord, he is alive!

  Never had I ever been so happy. Ferdy was alive and well, even if he was trying to dodge the fighter in front of him. I watched as he ducked down in pain at the blow to his side and then reached out and grappled with his opponent. I saw his hands were wrapped in leather, not unlike the ones Ben and I had used in Harshad’s lessons.

  I also had a really hard time ignoring his physique. Sweat rolled down his back as he moved, falling down the toned muscles. He had a very nice body, and I was not able to keep myself from blushing any more than I was able to look away.

  It was only after he took another hit to the side that reality set in, and I realized he had lied to me—again.

  Again!

  He had lied to me about leaving for Silesia, and now he was in the middle of a needless, frivolous fight. All this while I was suffering at the thought of his death.

  To make it worse, he must have known about the incident, too. And still he was here, saying nothing, reaching out to no one. Even his friends at the Cabal should have known he was here.

  Were they lying to me, too?

  I can’t believe this! I had just decided to trust him, too.

  That was the worst of it, I decided. I was in love with this selfish, privileged fool, someone who was content to waste his life on fights at the docks while his brother tried to murder him and seize the kingdom. Someone who seemed almost eager to run through my heart and make me question every decision I had ever made and every person I had ever trusted.

  I watched as he feinted fo
rward, making his opponent angry. The other man grunted loudly as he flung forward into the crowd. The men cheered even more as they pushed him back out.

  Ferdy waited for a moment before the man raised his fists again. He was still his usual self, allowing even his enemy to have dignity. I saw him say something to the man, and the man shrugged it off and then spat. The wad of saliva hit the floor between them, and I could see he was more upset than anything else.

  “Ew,” I murmured as I tried to move closer. Ahead of me, off to the far side, there was a small gap between the front lines of the edge of their adapted boxing arena. I slipped in where I could, and if others paid me any mind, it did not stop their enthusiasm for the fight.

  I will never understand men. I shook my head as another round of cheers filled up the room when Ferdy landed another punch, and the man fell down.

  Another man came forward to check the man, who was struggling to get up. He seemed to be the referee, and he held up Ferdy’s arm.

  “Our winner for this round,” he called, setting off a mix of booing and applause, along with the people calling on each other for bets to be settled.

  Ferdy did not seem to care much. He nodded toward a couple of others, brushing off their comments. He was breathing hard and someone tossed him a towel.

  That was when I noticed his opponent was getting up. His eyes were red, and he wore a cross expression.

  He jumped up and steadied himself, wiping his long hair back from his face.

  Before I knew it, he was running toward Ferdy, his fist balled and ready to attack.

  And then, suddenly, I was leaping forward, entering the match grounds and bracing myself for impact. I ducked down and held my breath as he ran toward me.

  I only briefly registered the man’s shocked look as he tripped over me. My cloak tore free and fluttered to the ground as he went flying over my back. The fabric rolled over on the man, briefly trapping his arms as he flopped onto the ground.

  The entire room was suddenly staring at me, including Ferdy. I straightened up and stared back at him. There were calls from the crowd for the man to be removed, but I only saw Ferdy’s eyes widen and then narrow suspiciously.

  Just like that night, I thought. It was the same look he had given me the night of the Advent Ball, when he recognized me as a member of the Order.

  “It’s a woman,” one of the men shouted, and immediately the bets were announced again.

  I finally glanced around, and my divided attention caught me.

  My knees were swiftly knocked out from under me by my fallen foe. I tumbled down, feeling the sudden pain of a real fight at once as I landed on my back.

  The man lunged over, trying to pin me down. My training with Harshad kicked in, and I hurried to block as I twisted out of his range. I rolled to my feet and held up my fists, surprised to see Ferdy with a headlock on my opponent.

  “What are you doing here, Ella?” he called over the sounds of the crowd, as the room echoed with their overindulged pleasure.

  “Trying to protect you!” I yelled back. I still did not know if I was more angry than relieved. “For all you deserve it, clearly.”

  The fighter elbowed Ferdy in the side, breaking free. He came running after me, and I used his focus to twist out of his reach. The second he ran past me, I lashed out a sidekick. His momentum carried him to the end of the arena, where the crowds were still cheering him on even as mud scrapped into his face.

  “I’d like to think I deserve a better quality of protection than you can offer,” Ferdy hissed as he came up beside me. From our sudden closeness, I could smell him, the faint scent of lavender and peppermint buried deeply under the aroma of ash and sweat. “I heard what happened.”

  “I did, too, and that’s why I thought you were dead.” I crossed my arms as I stared at him, furious.

  “Why would you think I was dead?” Ferdy seemed surprised.

  “You told me you were leaving for Silesia at the concert,” I snapped. “What was I was supposed to think?”

  While I was distracted, our opponent came back up behind us. Ferdy pushed me out of the way as he threw out a hook. I could hear the crunch of the impact, and I watched in horror as he flopped down onto the ground and stayed there.

  Behind us, the crowd cheered again.

  “Take a bow,” Ferdy said, grabbing my arm and holding it up like the referee had done to him only moments before. “And then you and I are going to talk.”

  “Fine by me,” I shot back. “I have plenty to say.”

  “I imagine you do.” Ferdy rolled his eyes, and the two of us bowed. I had to stop myself from curtseying.

  After that, Ferdy hurried to usher me out of the room. One of his friends tossed him a shirt, and he grabbed my dirt-splattered cloak on the way out. We headed back the way I had come, toward the other room in the warehouse. Once there, he found a smaller room, one I assumed to be an office, and shoved me in.

  I stumbled forward, only stopping as I came up against a wooden box. There was a large pile of rope on the floor next to it. It was not an office we had entered, but a supply room.

  Immediately, I whirled around to face Ferdy. I pulled down my mask and watched him lock the door. “Ferdy—”

  “Shh.” He glared at me in the poor lighting, listening at the door as some of the men walked by, talking loudly and possibly drunkenly about the fights.

  I realized at once why Ferdy wanted me to keep silent. My eyes widened at some of their language; it was crude and coarse, enough to make even Lady Penelope blush—possibly.

  When they were gone, and another round of fighting had commenced, Ferdy slipped into the shirt someone had tossed him. I was glad when he left it unbuttoned, even if I forced myself not to think about that.

  “They’re distracted now,” he said, as another round of yelling and cheering resounded from the adjacent room. “I don’t think they know we’re in here.”

  “They seem very eager to be distracted.”

  “Poverty has its price. The entertainment here is brutal. I suppose you noticed that when you decided to make a spectacle of yourself. You shouldn’t have done anything back there.”

  “That man was going to hurt you,” I insisted. “It was the right thing to do, to stop him. Even if you deserved it.”

  “The men are just going to want more women boxers in the future after this.”

  “Maybe I’ll give it another try after I’m done with you.” I put my hands on my hips as I tried to make out his features in the darkness. The evening hours had arrived, and there was only a trickle of light coming in from the hall as we stared at each other. “Tell me why you’re here in the first place, besides the fact that you’ve clearly gone mad.”

  “If I am mad for being here, what do you think that makes you for coming?”

  I would not allow him to intimidate me. No matter what he had just done to that man. “You know why I’m here. I’m here for you.”

  “I’m not sure how your betrothed would feel about that.”

  I bit my lip, realizing why he was upset. Ferdy had likely heard the rumors, especially since he was taking care to watch his brother now. “I’m not going to marry Karl. You should know that. I told you before it was all a lie and part of my cover.”

  “Well, the morning papers are a little different,” Ferdy snapped. “And besides, I didn’t lie to you about Silesia, and you should have known about that.”

  “You told Karl that you were leaving in front of me!”

  “You’re lying about how you feel about him in front of me,” Ferdy pointed out. He pushed back the sweaty locks of his hair. Even in the poor lighting, I could see it was still wet from his recent fight. “Why wouldn’t I lie about my travel plans in front of him as well?”

  “You could have told me you were lying when we met outside the theatre.” I felt a rush of embarrassment, realizing he was right. But I was not going to admit it. Not now, not after I had discovered he did nothing to tell me he was alive when I thoug
ht he was dead. “At least I clarified my lies.”

  “I promised you I would not lie to you again,” Ferdy said. He leaned back against the wall, and for the first time, I noticed there was an ugly bruise appearing on his right side, just under his ribs.

  That has to be from Ben’s attack. It had gotten worse with all the fighting.

  “I know that I have kept important things about myself from you, and I wanted to make up for it. That is why I made you that promise—so you could trust me again.” Ferdy looked disgusted. “I should have asked the same of you, but I didn’t.”

  I crossed my arms. “If you wanted my trust, you should have told me that you were alive after the carriage exploded.”

  His fist lashed out, hard and quick, denting the wall behind him. I flinched but said nothing.

  “Do you know what happened?” Ferdy asked, his voice slightly raised. I realized then how hard he was trying hard to keep himself together. “They killed Philip, and my other friends. They thought they were killing me, but they didn’t.”

  My nose prickled with unshed tears, and my cheeks burned at my foolishness and shame as I thought about Philip and the others. Ferdy would have been devastated to learn what happened. And I was, too. Philip had taken such good care of me for him.

  And my pain was only a pittance compared to Ferdy’s, I thought. He had known him for years. Philip had been trusted with the kingdom’s most precious secrets. My gaze lowered to the floor, thinking of the ones I loved and lost.

  I already knew I could say nothing to make his pain go away.

  “You know what the worst part of being a prince is?” Ferdy asked, his voice full of stinging bitterness. It was a complete departure from his energetic irreverence, and I lost all my hostility at his pain.

  “No,” I whispered. “Tell me.”

  “Other people feel the need to die for you.” Ferdy narrowed his gaze at me. “People feel they need to lie to you. They feel so noble and justified in keeping secrets from you. All in the name of protecting you.”