The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  Rayhan used his sword to pierce the first target and lift it high for his recruits to observe. “You see, soldiers, this is the product of discipline.” Placing the sand-stuffed bag into his lap, he jerked the arrow from the heart of the burlap target. “You’re here today because you are above the rest in archery, swordsmanship, and horsemanship. As such, I expect His Highness’ display to be your goal. You will work together to achieve sufficient mastery of this course. Those who excel will move one step closer to calling themselves a cavalry rider. Am I understood?”

  The soldiers shouted their agreement in unison, and the general gave a satisfied nod. “Then let us begin.”

  Jaycent gathered his arrows and readjusted the targets while the general separated the recruits into two groups. Each group was assigned an identical line of targets located on opposite ends of the practice field with either General Mendeley or Prince Jaycent as their instructor.

  Arelee, her voice commanding authority, took it upon herself to herd the general’s recruits into position. That left Levee at the mercy of Jaycent’s instruction.

  “Your Highness,” Levee greeted. She offered the prince a formal salute from the saddle that was far more graceful than her former attempts at bows and curtsies.

  “Welcome Levee,” the prince replied, his attention clearly focused on counting the soldiers gathered in front of him.

  “I’m rather new at this…” she began.

  “Well, I already have twenty recruits in my charge today so I see little difference in Arelee tossing in one more.”

  Levee’s ears drifted toward her shoulders. “I’m here to make things easier for you, Your Highness. Not to complicate them. If you simply tell me what you need me to do, I’m sure I—”

  “Just line the recruits up for me and make sure none of them do anything foolish,” the prince interrupted.

  With a subtle shake of her head, Levee turned and started directing the soldiers into single file. There, she watched each rider make their rounds, but after an hour it all grew terribly mundane. She felt like an ornament, sitting impressive on her steed but lacking any real purpose. Glancing over at Arelee, she noted how the horse mistress critiqued each rider’s form as they cantered through the archery course.

  Eager to be of use, Levee stepped up toward the next runner to see where she could offer her expertise. All of the recruits were familiar with horses and appeared to have little trouble finding a kinship with their equine partners.

  But when it came to shooting arrows while keeping their seat, many had a hard time finding a balance. She watched the next soldier attempt the run, his hands struggling to leave his reins as he tried to aim his weapon. Not a single arrow made it to his bow by the end of the stretch, and he returned to the starting line with his head bowed.

  “Don’t be afraid to let go of the reins,” Levee encouraged. The soldier paused, his ears rising attentively. “Use your thighs to stay in the seat and let your weight do the talking. It’ll free up your hands up so you can focus on your bow.”

  The soldier nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Thanks.”

  Levee beamed. “My pleasure.”

  The gypsy’s eyes strayed toward Jaycent who wore a look of approval in spite of his earlier attitude.

  “Way to find your place, Tensley,” he said.

  Suddenly, it dawned on her that His Highness hadn’t been trying to offend her. Rather, he was treating her as a soldier. Levee held her head a little higher.

  Perhaps this apprenticeship won’t be so hard after all, she thought to herself.

  That sentiment only lasted for a few seconds. An angry whinny broke the air behind her, spooking several of the horses. Soldiers fought to calm their steeds while Levee yanked Joust around to discover the root of the problem: a red-haired soldier struggled to gain control over an aggravated stallion.

  The beast whipped his neck back and forth in a fierce tug of war. White knuckled and desperate, the rider yanked his reins back in an effort to wrangle the horse. However, the pull of the bit only incited more fury from the proud beast. He tossed his head in an effort to shake free of his reins, his front hooves lifting off the ground.

  Levee furrowed her brow in disbelief as she shouted to the foolish recruit, “Relax on the reins!”

  “Give me a minute. I can handle this,” the redhead pulled back even tighter, forcing the stallion’s chin against his neck. The war mount grunted and took several disagreeable steps backward.

  Levee shook her head. “You're holding the reins too tight. He doesn’t like the force of the bit. That's why he's fighting you.”

  “If I need your advice, I’ll ask for it!” The young rider jerked his reins tightly to one side in attempt to keep his mount from bolting forward.

  Fed up, the horse reared up. Levee urged Joust back as terror ignited in the trainee's eyes. The redhead fought to stay on his mount as his boots slipped from the stirrups. One of his hands clung tightly to the reigns while the other held onto the pummel for dear life.

  Levee’s gut instinct was to use a command in the old tongue to calm the beast, but she hesitated, afraid it would expose her gypsy heritage.

  Jaycent noted Levee’s indecision as she herded the other riders out of the way. If she were a gypsy like he expected, she would know how to pierce through the stubborn horse’s temper. He waited a couple more seconds, expecting her to take control, but she didn’t. Shaking his head, Jaycent took the matter into his own hands.

  “Ne howlim!” he shouted. Galloping over, Jaycent brought his steed right up in front of the disgruntled horse. “Ne howlim,” he repeated, his finger pointed to the ground. The angry stallion immediately fell to his hooves, his rider landing chest first into the saddle.

  The trainee let out a painful grunt and quickly pulled himself back into his seat where he snatched up his reins. Jaycent approached the steed with an air of dominance, undeterred by the war horse’s attempts to rip free of the hands that held him.

  “Kaliano, Seladay. Kaliano,” the prince said firmly as he placed a gentle hand on the nose of the panting stallion.

  To the recruit's amazement, his mount became still. The horse's body trembled with anger, but he no longer fought for control. The redheaded rahee sat frozen in the saddle as the prince traced his hand down the stallion's mouth, across the edge of the bit, and onto the reins. With one sharp jerk, he yanked them out of the trainee’s grip.

  “Relax on the reins,” he said firmly. “Next time you will heed what Arelee’s apprentice says or your hide will pay. This horse is your partner, not your servant. You will treat him with the proper respect.”

  The rider grumbled an apology, but Levee cared little for his insincere attempt to make amends. She couldn't get over the prince's words. The phrases “Hooves down” and “Relax, Stallion. Relax.” played over and over inside her mind. The rumors in the city were true! Jaycent spoke the language of old. The revelation left her with a thousand different questions.

  Jaycent tossed a glance her way, and Levee’s ears drooped when she caught the suspicion splayed across his face. The prince guided Diego so close to Joust that the prince brushed shoulders with Levee.

  “Your Highness?” she breathed.

  “You are capable of more,” was all he said before returning his attention to the recruits. “Next rider!”

  As more hours passed, Levee tried to stay focused on the task at hand. But for all of her watching, she had a difficult time keeping track of what was going on. Her mind was stuck on her vague exchange with the prince.

  Day drifted into late afternoon, and the training session came to an end. The recruits meandered back to the stables to cool down and feed their mounts when Arelee rode up to her apprentice.

  “Where were you during the last half of training?” the horse mistress demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Levee asked. She knew Arelee’s perturbed question had everything to do with Levee’s absentminded nature, but to admit it would only heighten th
e mistress’ displeasure.

  “I was watching you between runs. Even the prince said you were doing well until the incident with the young recruit. After that, it's like you shut down.” Arelee glanced at the departing soldiers as Rayhan trotted behind them, hollering how the last one to the mess hall would pay for his meal in push-ups. “You're too experienced to have never seen a horse rebel before. If it's the rider's attitude that shook you, don't let it. You know what you're doing out here, Tensley. I want to see you show it.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Levee replied, her eyes downcast.

  Arelee gave her a hardy pat on the back. “I have to go make sure these greenies take care of their mounts. Meet me at the stables again tomorrow morning. We’ll try this again.”

  The horse mistress didn’t wait for a response. She kicked into a canter, leaving her apprentice on her own in the field. Levee sighed and began to lead Joust back to the stables when a voice stole her attention.

  “Hey gypsy!”

  Without thinking, Levee turned, and blanched when she saw the prince astride Diego.

  “I want to speak with you,” he said, his tone flat.

  Levee didn’t know what tipped him off, but she knew immediately that his knowledge of her heritage was the root of his recent disdain. As she and Joust approached Jaycent’s scowling visage, Levee had to wonder why Arelee hadn’t said anything.

  Had the prince kept her secret, or was the horse mistress showing a rare form of tolerance toward an orphaned gypsy? She faced the prince with a humble salute, her courage derived from the assurance that she hadn’t committed any crimes. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

  “You lied to me,” his voice held the chilling edge of a judge.

  “Beg your pardon,” she replied, “but what do you mean?”

  “I mean precisely what I said, Levee Tensley. Just a few nights ago you stood upon the balcony of my castle and claimed to be a native citizen of my kingdom. You lied to me.”

  “With all due respect, Your Highness, I did not say anything of the sort. You assumed as much.”

  Jaycent’s back stiffened and his chest puffed with a forthcoming reprimand. Seeing this conversation was going in the wrong direction, the gypsy jumped to explain herself.

  “However, I did say that I’m a Nevahardan, as loyal to you and your kingdom as every citizen that stood among you that night.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he squeezed his legs and Diego walked through the western gate toward a riding trail marked at the edge of a sparsely wooded area.

  Levee tagged along. “Why is that?”

  “One cannot serve two leaders, Levee Tensley,” he explained. “Patchi’s will works against my own, so to be a gypsy you cannot truly be loyal to me. Our desires contradict one another.”

  Levee pursed her lips. “I’m a gypsy by blood, my prince, and only that. My life as a nomad ended many years ago.”

  Jaycent compared her claims to the brief whispers of the gypsies in the tavern. They seemed to hold little claim over Levee and her talents, describing her as an outsider.

  “You are going to have to explain yourself better than that,” he warned. “I find it hard to believe a gypsy would convert to citizenship of a kingdom they claim denies their natural way of life.”

  Levee’s shoulders slumped with the same weight that caught Jaycent’s attention that night on the balcony. “Because I’ve seen the dangers of that life firsthand, Your Highness, and I suffered a great loss because of it.”

  The prince squinted at her, confused by her sudden melancholy. “What do you mean?”

  “My family and I traveled with a band of others until I was nine. We performed equine acrobatics in various cities and towns. Then one day our performance perturbed a group of men. Spooked by the way we communicated with our horses, they came back later that night to accuse us of witchcraft. In the end, they murdered my family as well as most of the others.

  “I was only a child back then. If it wasn’t for my pony dragging me away, I would have never survived that night. She saved my life, carrying me to the nearest town where she left me at Milo’s doorstep. I’ve been living with him and his mother ever since.”

  Levee looked up at the prince, steeling herself against his scrutiny. “So yes, I am a gypsy by blood, and I have had a taste of the life they lead. It’s a liberating culture, Your Highness, and from my experiences, quite undeserving of Nevaharday’s prejudice.

  “However, I gave it up when I realized the risk was not worth the freedom. My new life here makes me a Nevahardan, and while I am not against the gypsies, I don’t agree with my people’s decision to tax your own. It only increases the animosity between us and that breaks my heart just as much as the prejudice that killed the people I loved.”

  Levee’s story stirred many questions in Jaycent’s mind, but even his stone heart wouldn’t push her to elaborate. Although Levee fought valiantly to stave the tears that coated her evergreen eyes, he saw them clearly and it pained him.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” it was the closest to an honest apology Jaycent had ever given a commoner, but even to him the words seemed hollow and meaningless. Silently, the pair followed the trail into the woods where the canopy of leaves offered Jaycent the privacy to speak candidly with the wounded girl. “I won’t claim to know your pain, but I can relate to the emptiness of losing your family.”

  Levee glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s a hollow feeling,” was all she said.

  A sad smile barely traced the length of Jaycent’s lips. “Aye, it is.”

  Levee let the conversation fade, her mind clearly elsewhere, which left the prince feeling terribly uncomfortable. Just moments ago, he had been certain Levee was a conniving her way into royalty’s good graces. It was a logical assumption, but even solid reasoning felt like a weak defense when faced with the grief in the young gypsy’s expression.

  “Why did you want this apprenticeship, Levee?” Jaycent asked.

  “If you were stuck living the same life day in and day out, wouldn’t you at least want to spend it doing something you love?” she reasoned. “I grew up traveling the realm, Your Highness. I saw new things and new places everywhere I went. I can’t do that anymore. Not here. Not in this city.” Shrugging with a compromise Jaycent wasn’t sure she wholly accepted, Levee continued. “This apprenticeship at least pulls me out of a farmer’s house and puts me back in the saddle. That’s where I belong. On horseback, I have a taste of what life was like before things changed.” Levee sighed. “I feel free again.”

  Levee’s words worked like a chisel against the inner casing of Jaycent’s emotions. It seemed she saw the world in all the ways Jaycent did and was searching for all of the same things: freedom, passion, and the chance to feel alive in a place that didn’t agree with what that meant.

  He saw that spirit in her when she rode her palomino around barrels as if the horse’s hooves were an extension of her own legs. Now looking into her eyes and hearing the passion in her voice, the similarities between them seemed more obvious than ever.

  “Ride with me,” he said. Hooves swept into motion as the prince and Diego galloped down the trail. Levee's jaw dropped in disbelief, but it soon rose into a grin as she kicked Joust into pursuit. The prince veered out of the woods into an open field where Levee didn't hesitate. She let Joust have the reins, amazed at the speed propelled from the war horse's legs.

  The stallion kept pace with Diego, refusing to be left behind even as the river came into view. Jaycent leaned over the unicorn’s neck as the beast lengthened his stride. The river was a good six feet across, but that didn’t deter Diego.

  His hardened hooves thrummed against the ground, their rhythm pulsating through the packed earth like the tremors of an earthquake. Shifting his weight into his hindquarters, he leapt across the body of water as the prince let out an excited whoop. Levee's chest swelled with pleasure as her mount lifted off the ground behind them. As much as she adored her little
mare, Melee would never have been able to do this.

  Diego wheeled around, his breathing quick and excited. He looked back at the prince, his silver eyes bright with adrenaline. “Shall we take the mountain today, Jaycent?”

  The mountains were made of rough terrain populated with many creatures who didn’t take well to trespassers. But Diego was far stronger than any mortal being. None would dare to challenge him.

  Turning to Levee, His Highness asked, “What do you think? Can you handle a little climb?”

  A wild look filled those emerald eyes that made Jaycent's heart skip a beat. “Can you?”

  Jaycent trilled his tongue, a sound that merged into a primal cry so loud it echoed against the base of the mountain. Swept by high spirits, Diego swung his long ebony horn and leapt into a full gallop that Levee and Joust eagerly pursued.

  Ahead, a band of wild horses watched them. They followed suit when the duo rode by, enticed by the spirit to run. Mares, stallions, and yearlings joined their liberating sprint, galloping so close that Levee could reach out and touch them on either side.

  A collage of browns, blacks, grays, and whites swallowed the ground around them. Hooves drummed in a lively cadence, their hardy rhythm pulsing through Levee’s entire body. Her heart beat in sync with their rumbling gait.

  Hooking the toes of her boots beneath the saddle's seat and its fender, she stood up, her arms outstretched. Jaycent watched, amazed not only by her balance, but how comfortable she was on the back of her horse.

  She was born for this, the prince thought to himself.

  The wild herd veered from the pair as Jaycent and Levee left the open plains behind. The gypsy, now back in the saddle, wove with the prince through the thick forest that lined the mountain’s base, jumping fallen logs and dodging holes that lay beneath the foliage.