The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  Diego ran surefooted, with Joust shadowing his every step. Together they climbed the steep incline, powerful legs thrusting them higher and higher. The stallions were pleased to bear experienced riders. They hardly felt the rahee on their backs as their partners distributed their weight forward.

  Eventually, Diego slowed to a brisk walk and Jaycent knew they had reached his favorite spot. He dismounted and helped Levee down from Joust’s back, setting her lightly on the ground as if she weighed nothing. A few feet away sat a small pond, crystal clear and cool. They led their mounts to the water where Joust began to drink.

  Diego was less reserved. He dove into the pool, splashing about like a playful colt. The prince laughed as he took a drink and swatted a handful of water at the swimming steed. When the stallion welcomed the showering spray, the prince shook his head and walked toward a rock outcrop just a few paces away. Swinging his legs over the edge, he took a deep breath and surveyed the wide spread of his kingdom.

  “This is beautiful.” Levee murmured as she took a seat beside him. Kicking her feet back and forth over the cascading drop, Jaycent noted her innocence and wondered if this girl was actually capable of deception. “Do you come here often?” she asked.

  “You have your means of escape,” Jaycent nodded casually to Joust. “This is one of mine.”

  Levee offered him a warm smile. “Why are you showing me this?”

  The prince reclined against the stone, pleased to find it warm from the sun. “I want to believe your story, Levee Tensley. I want to assume you’re as naïve and kindhearted as you seem to be. But you know as prince it is my duty to consider every possibility.”

  Levee’s feet stopped swaying. “Am I in trouble?”

  It took every ounce of Jaycent’s will not to laugh at the girl’s childish question. “Should you be?”

  “No,” she huffed. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Your Highness, other than be born to a world different than your own.”

  “If that is truly the case, then the secret of your heritage is safe with me. I will keep it so long as you honor your words. Though beware my trust is earned, not given.”

  Levee hugged her legs to her chest. She rested her cheek against her knees as she studied the prince. “Then I ask you again: why have you brought me here?”

  “Because you seemed like you needed it,” was the prince’s frank reply.

  Levee studied His Highness, who, for the first time since she met him, looked at peace. Sprawled across the stone of this secret place, his muscles visibly relaxed and the worried lines on his brow faded.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Did you need this?”

  Jaycent’s guard rose at such a personal question. He dealt her a wary glance. The command for her to mind his privacy hung suspended on his lips, but he bit back the urge. Maybe it was desperation, but Jaycent wanted to believe the gypsy’s intentions were pure.

  “If by ‘this’ you mean whether I desired some time to myself, then yes. Even I need a moment to breathe sometimes.” Just to be on the safe side, he added, “And I expect this venture to stay between us.”

  “This is your place. I’m honored you trusted me enough to share it. I won’t betray your faith in me, Your Highness.”

  Experience whispered doubts into Jaycent’s ear, reminding him that kindness always came with an ulterior motive, but he brushed away the thought. That was just the sort of pessimism that tore at his thin hope of someone, one day, looking far enough beyond his crown to see the rahee behind it.

  Still, there had to be limitations. As royalty, Jaycent possessed a status to uphold. Despite his surprising comfort in her presence, Levee needed to know her place.

  “Your silence a command, not a request,” the prince replied. Then, softer, he said, “Nevertheless, I appreciate your agreeableness.”

  The gypsy giggled in a way that was almost childlike. “You don't have order me to be your friend, Your Highness.”

  Jaycent scratched at the cropped goatee lining his chin. “Is it really that easy for you?”

  “Is what easy for me?”

  “Treating me like everyone else.”

  Levee shrugged, and Jaycent bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as the rahee rocked back and forth on her hips beside him. “I can see well enough beyond the silver trinkets to know that there’s a rahee lying beneath them.”

  The prince’s breath caught in his chest as he let those words sink in. Had she read his thoughts? Don’t be foolish, Jaycent reminded himself. That is impossible.

  “You are wise beyond your years, Levee Tensley,” he said.

  Silence fell between them as they sat together, basking in the summer’s waning warmth. Behind them Diego splashed out of the pond to rest comfortably in the grass nearby.

  For a fleeting moment, Nevaharday’s social lines were forgotten as the two enjoyed the peace offered in this place. Jaycent closed his eyes, reveling in his haven away from the stone walls that claimed him as their own. Here, he was nameless; just another spirit among the trees. No one cared about titles in a place like this.

  “Your Highness?” Levee murmured, careful not to break the tranquility.

  “Mmm?”

  “Do you want to become a king someday?”

  Jaycent opened his eyes. “What?”

  Levee shrugged. “I mean, I understand it’s probably inevitable, but if you weren't born into it… Would you do it? Would you carry the weight of an entire realm if you had a choice? It seems like such a heavy burden.”

  This time, Levee’s friendly inquiry was all too bold for Jaycent to ignore. While he genuinely cared for his people, Jaycent’s avoidance of the throne stood as no secret. Forced to uphold the image his advisors had carefully molded, the prince’s fate was bound to a glorious facade. Every morning he faced his reflection in the mirror and asked himself how long before others would start to see it was all a lie.

  The prince wasn't patient, nor was he outstandingly moral. Politically, he kept Nevaharday formidable. But as far as honor goes, his actions painted him as a shortcoming in the Connor's respectable line. A disgrace, even.

  Levee noted how the prince’s thin eyebrows dipped over his eyes, which were once again absent of emotion. Not that it mattered. Levee didn't need to see his pain to know it was there. It lingered in the air, coating his hesitation. Moved with compassion, Levee placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “Prince?”

  “Come,” Jaycent stood as if the question was never poised. “If we don't return soon, Arelee will start to think I lost her apprentice.”

  Levee didn't protest. She did as she was told knowing her short-lived moments with Jaycent Connor had ended.

  He had retreated back behind the mask again.

  Behind that distant, regal veil that was the Prince of Nevaharday.

  When beasts Come Knocking

  Relief washed over Levee’s aching muscles when the walls of the Kasateno cottage finally came into view. It was late afternoon and her backside smarted from a hard day’s work. She dismounted, her hands massaging the cramps in her legs. It would take a while for her to get used to so much time in the saddle again.

  While her body relaxed, her mind churned over her peculiar encounter with the prince. When it came to nobility like Arelee and Rayhan, Levee was keenly aware of her place. They were kind, yet there was always a distinct line between their stature and hers.

  Jaycent wasn’t like that. He weaved in and out of that line with fickle, confusing steps. His flipping emotions and mysterious persona marked him as a wild card, which was dangerously alluring to Levee’s curiosity.

  Every time they met, she’d steal a glimpse of the person behind those cold, blue eyes. Levee’s mind slipped back to their short exchange on the castle balcony, to the metaphor about the dance, and how one cannot judge them for what they seem to be until they’ve explored them firsthand.

  “Who are you really, Prince Jaycent?” the gypsy whispered.

  She
cooled Melee down and released the pony to pasture. Home was not the place to bring such thoughts. Milo had always said to leave your business by the door, and she intended to do just that.

  The rich aroma of Tay’s cooking wafted through the chimney, inspiring a growl from Levee’s stomach. Inside, Milo’s warm smile and his mother’s hearty stew awaited her. She practically burst through the back door, hungry for both.

  Tay’s motherly gaze strayed from the cauldron she had simmering over the fire to the young gypsy’s exhausted stance. “Levee, dear! My, ya look tired. Sit down, sit down!” The woman ushered the girl to the couch before returning to her cooking. “Supper’s in the pot and should be ready soon enough.”

  “Thank goodness.” Levee curled up against the corner of the couch. “I’m starving.”

  “Well, would ya look at what the pony dragged home?” Milo remarked as he walked into the room. The Sarrokian leaned down and kissed her cheek, causing Levee’s to mouth curve into a shy grin. “There’s my favorite smile.” He tapped her chin before strolling around the couch to take a seat beside her. “What’s for dinner, Ma?”

  “Lamb and vegetable stew.”

  Milo belted out a loud “Mmmmmm!” as he sunk dramatically into the cushions. “Now that sounds like it’d hit the spot,” he rubbed his stomach eagerly. “When’s it gonna be ready?”

  “Within the hour,” Tay promised.

  “I don’t know if I can wait that long,” Levee winced as her stomach grumbled its protest. Milo’s ears flicked toward the sound, which only caused Levee to look more embarrassed.

  He chuckled and poked her gently with his elbow. “Let’s take a walk. By the time we get back supper should be about ready.”

  “That sounds nice,” Levee agreed.

  “Don’t ya go strayin’ too far!” Tay hollered after them.

  Milo offered his mother an assuring wave and held the front door for Levee. They strolled through the grass to the packed dirt road that wound through their village. Nearby neighbors hollered greetings as the pair walked by, their friendly smiles reinforcing the notion that this was home.

  Their warmth tugged at Levee as she considered how quickly it would all disappear. With the new trade route being paved, these people would soon move away to start new lives in new villages. The atmosphere she and Milo had come to know would be no more.

  She looked up at her friend who, for once, had little to say. Levee was beginning to understand his attachment to this place. In New Haven, people saw Milo for who he is, not where he came from. As a foreigner in this kingdom, it would likely be awhile before he found such community again.

  “See somethin’ ya fancy?” the Sarrokian quipped when he noticed Levee’s attention.

  The gypsy rolled her eyes. “It takes more than a kiss to charm me, Milo Kasateno.”

  “Is that so?” the Sarrokian’s fingers slid casually around hers and Levee fought to ignore the butterflies that sprang to life inside her stomach. “I suppose I’ll have to work on that.”

  His words sent a wave of heat to Levee’s cheeks. To be the focus of Milo’s affection made her feel admired in a whole new way. They veered north toward Clover Lake where they crossed paths with one of the elders of the village. The gray-haired rahee rode passed them on horseback, winking at the pair. Levee leaned her chin over Milo’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “And thus, the town gossip begins.”

  Milo smirked. “Ten coppers say news of us will pass through the village twice b’fore we even get home.”

  “New Haven’s Sarrokian bachelor moves in on his adopted sister,” Levee giggled. “Scandalous.”

  Milo loosed his hand from the gypsy’s grasp and started collecting stones from the lake shore. “We were never siblings, Lev. They know that just as well as we do.”

  She crossed her arms. “The way I remember it, you didn’t want me moving into your home in the first place.”

  “Well, it was hardly proper to flirt with a girl when they lived across the hall,” with a flick of his wrist, he skipped a stone over the water. The trick lured Levee’s interest and he handed her one, but she only managed to create a single, loud plop as the stone sunk to the bottom.

  Stifling his humor, Milo patiently plucked a few more skippers from the ground and taught her how to make them dance across the surface. When it came to books, Levee always seemed miles above him. Yet the Sarrokian never failed to have something new up his sleeve that he could teach her.

  “One more!” she insisted.

  Milo rocked back and forth on his heels. “Ya know, I think we’re fresh out of rocks.”

  “How can you run out of rocks?”

  “You’ve certainly thrown enough of them. In fact, I think they’re forming a small island somewhere in the middle there,” shading his palm over his eyes, Milo squinted as if he could see the tip of a rock poking through the surface of the lake.

  Levee scowled and he tousled her hair before fishing the last stone from his pocket. “One more.”

  The gypsy went for it but Milo snapped his hand just out of reach. “Not so fast, Sugar. This one isn’t free. You have to give me somethin’ if you want it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Whatcha got?”

  Levee inched toward him until they stood nearly chest to chest. “Let me think...”

  Milo leaned forward so that he could wrap his free arm around her waist. “Take your time.”

  Draping her left arm around his neck, she pulled him closer until they could feel each other’s breath against their lips. Milo closed his eyes in anticipation.

  That’s when Levee struck. Snatching the stone from his hand, she skittered away in a fit of victorious giggles, leaving Milo aghast at his own gullibility. The Sarrokian watched as she chose a safe distance to throw her prize without him intervening.

  He had to hand it to her. Levee Tensley had singlehandedly pilfered what no other lass had ever managed to steal. He wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet, but the rahee knew the truth.

  His heart belonged to this girl.

  “You’re losing your edge,” the young woman teased as she sauntered back empty-handed.

  “You’re tellin’ me,” he huffed. Green eyes zeroed in on him with the same enchanting gaze that ensnared him the night before. Did she know what that look did to him, or was Levee completely oblivious to her allure?

  Hand in hand, they walked along the pebble strewn shore that hugged the lake. The trees around them reflected off the water’s surface, glimmering in a rippling dance as the last bit of sunlight poked through the open patches of clouds.

  If someone had told Milo years ago this would be the life he desired, the Sarrokian would have laughed. So much had changed since he and his mother left Sarrokye.

  Their move to Nevaharday had been entirely Tay’s idea. She had always claimed Milo was too much like his father: hot-blooded and charming. His pa had been a sailor, fighting pirates ten months out of the year. But noble as the occupation was, his absence left Tay with too much fire to handle.

  The southern city was a notorious hub for thieves and guilds, and Milo’s hunger for a challenge lured him toward all the wrong things. At age nine he became a pickpocket for a local gang where his charisma and quick fingers gained him a fair amount of profit. Tay eventually discovered a small fortune underneath his bed and tried to punish him, but he snuck out every time she turned her back.

  Then one day his father’s boat never returned from sea, and Tay did the only thing she could. The brave mother packed their things and dragged Milo as far away from Sarrokye as possible. They settled in Nevaharday where she forced him to learn the skills of farming, but it wasn’t long until the thrill-seeking Sarrokian found a new treasure to hunt.

  Tay rolled her eyes as Milo’s gaze strayed from pockets to females. Within a few weeks he was enticing the local ladies with his handsome features and flirty tongue.

  I’ll put up with ya stealin’ hearts over coin purses any ol’ day, she would r
esign to say.

  But in spite of his schemes, Milo wanted to be more than a thieving bachelor. From the moment they arrived in King Donovan’s territory, Nevahardan men looked down upon him. Jealous of his charisma, they eagerly searched for opportunities to paint him as the scum of the south. Their chauvinistic antics only fed Milo’s will to prove them wrong. He became a man of integrity; upstanding and honest in the eyes of the town’s people. At first it was simply for the satisfaction of making a point, but now that Milo had tasted a wholesome lifestyle, he found himself content with it.

  Sunset eyes lingered on the girl beside him. She absorbed the scenery, attuned to the natural beauty that thrived around Clover Lake. Every blooming bud; every soft blade of grass.

  Levee saw what most people missed. She was different, aye. Wonderfully unique.

  You’re fallin’ too hard, Kasateno. Milo silently abraded himself.

  “It’s getting dark,” Levee observed. The Sarrokian looked around. Night had truly fallen. Darkness drew quickly, the shadows casting farther across the ground. He wondered how they had lost track of time so easily.

  The couple picked up the pace as the sun snuffed out its light. Roving in the dark wasn't a new thing for Levee. She’d spent most of her childhood traveling from one city to the next by moonlight. But a foreboding feeling grew inside her as night claimed its stage. A chill shook the gypsy’s slight frame.

  “Milo—” she began.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.”

  Levee tucked one hand into the crook of his arm, jumping at every little sound. The night felt like an enemy, extinguishing bits of hope with every piece of light it could swallow. The woods cradling the lake seemed to close in with baby steps, stealing their escape. Just as they were about to step foot onto the path toward home, Milo froze.

  Heavy footsteps thudded nearby, followed by a low snarl and a foul stench. Milo leapt behind a tree, yanking Levee along behind him. Tears filled her eyes as the fetid odor grew stronger, assailing her nose. It smelled as if decaying flesh had grown legs and pursued them. She gagged, but Milo held her tight against his chest. He placed a hand around her mouth to keep her from heaving.