The prince’s sheer height was intimidating enough. Shrouding his figure in a black cloak set everyone present on edge. They were terrified of what they could not see.
What if...
Planting his hands on the table, Jaycent leaned in so he was at eye level with the human. Other gamblers seized the man, twisting his arms behind his back and rendering him helpless. It all seemed to be falling so easily into Jaycent’s lap. The prince's mouth—the only part of his visage visible to onlookers—spread into a devious grin. “I have a different game for you, human.”
“The name's Golath,” the cheater grumbled.
“If I cared to know your name, I would have asked,” Jaycent mused. “You have two choices. Solve my riddle or suffer a fate decided by those you robbed. Take your pick.”
The gambler's worried eyes glanced at the vengeful glares surrounding him. “How do I know you'll keep your word?”
“You have no choice but to trust me.”
The man sneered. “Tell me your riddle.”
When Jaycent spoke, he did so slowly, his deliberant tone concealing the fact he improvised every word:
“A rahee struggles with daunting visions,
night after night on end.
Who alone can answer the dreams
that old Tennakawa sends?”
The human laughed. “You could at least make it difficult, rogue. Everyone knows it takes a seer to interpret visions.”
“Who, human. Not what. That—like you said—is too easy.”
The man stumbled over his words, trying to sputter out an excuse. “Y-you cockatrice! I'm not some superstitious horse-ear. How am I supposed to know these things?” One of the gamblers yanked hard on the man's arm and he cried out in pain, tears dripping from his eyes. Golath’s victims were all “horse-ears” and they didn’t favor the derogatory term. Throughout the tavern, rahee whispered amongst each other, further heightening the human’s alarm. “I, I don't know. The question isn't fair!”
“Not fair?” Jaycent swatted the shattered pieces of dice in the human's direction. “Almost like cheating?” He turned to the rest of the tavern and raised his voice. “Will anyone give this man a second chance and help him answer the riddle?”
Silence filled the room.
“Anyone... anyone at all?”
A minute seemed like an hour as patrons squirmed uncomfortably in their seats, but eventually one rahee took a stand. The same fellow who had sat beside Jaycent when he ordered his drinks approached the prince without apprehension. His eyes—a strange color that teetered between blue and green and gray—looked upon him with clear disapproval. “This man has suffered enough. I will answer for him.”
Everyone's attention fell on the patron, who was, in fact, a gypsy. His boots jingled softly with every step, their lips lined with a wide collection of silver and gold charms. Fearless, he walked straight up to the stranger who dared to place justice in the hands of the people. “Jaspur, was it?”
“Aye,” Jaycent said coolly.
“The answer to your riddle is Patchi. Rahee have traveled from all across the realm in search of his counsel. He rarely stays in one place very long, but last I heard he is visiting the camp posted near the road where the tolls are taken.
“You can tell the gypsies there your business and they may guide you to him, if they find your cause worthwhile.”
“Thank you, sirrah. As for you,” Jaycent growled, his eyes narrowed upon the human bold enough to steal from his people. “You will leave this city immediately. You will not look back, and you will not return. Am I understood?”
“And how would you know whether I kept that promise?” the human grumbled.
“I have more eyes on these streets than gutters have rats,” Jaycent let the threat linger. “Do you really want to take that risk?”
The crooked gambler pulled free of his captors, cradling his arm as he walked dejected out the door. Every rahee inside the tavern cheered and clapped, patting Jaycent on the back as he, too, left the tavern. Only the gypsy seemed to disapprove, his judging gaze following him silently.
Jaspur ignored him. After a few moments of watching the gambler stumble away, he disappeared into the alleyway where his companion waited. He couldn’t ride the stallion home. Not without blowing his cover.
“Diego, meet me back at the entrance of the palace,” he whispered.
The unicorn snorted and vanished down the narrow side streets while the prince took the main route. Although he kept one eye open for danger, the bulk of his mind swirled around the scene he’d made in the tavern. Tonight, he unveiled a lead on discovering the answer to his dangerous dreams, and with it a thrilling revelation: freedom through Jaspur.
Jaycent had slipped in and out of the city unnoticed several times before. But this time he spoke freely, acted freely, and no one knew the difference. Under his cowl there was no one to recognize him. The marionette strings of politics didn't pin Jaspur. He did as he pleased, and the people let him.
Wrapping his mind around this new reality was almost impossible. Not once in his twenty-four years had he ever known such freedom. A mix of envy and yearning filled his heart.
“Prince?” Diego joined him at the gates, his silver eyes filled with concern. “What happened in there?”
“Ask me in the morning,” Jaycent replied, patting the stallion's neck. He sighed as they reentered the castle’s familiar grounds, the weight of its presence already settling once more upon his lean shoulders. “I will explain then.”
“Are you certain you are okay?” Diego tugged the cowl from Jaycent's face. The rahee turned and placed a hand on the cheek of his midnight stallion.
“We will talk, my friend, but not tonight,” he managed a smile. “Too much fills my thoughts right now.”
Backing away, he waved to his four-legged companion before he turned and climbed the castle steps. Guards bowed and opened the wide, hoof-scarred doors.
“We will need to have those fixed, won't we?” the prince observed. The watchmen gave a nervous nod. His Highness tossed one hand in the air. “It will be dealt with tomorrow,” he said, then he dragged his tired feet through the entrance.
The doors closed behind him with a muffled “thud” that stopped Jaycent in his tracks. Already, he could feel the stone walls closing in, like a cave; like a prison. This was his home, yet now it reminded him of haunting nightmares. Even now, their images were so vivid in his mind, that just the thought of them made him shiver.
“Relax, Jaycent,” he murmured to himself. “Patchi ended the dreams once. He can do it a second time.”
He pulled off his cloak and trod up the stairs, his fingers caressing the edge of his hood. He had every intention of conquering the red-eyed creature in his dreams.
But would he be able to overcome the temptation to be someone else?
UNLIKELY ALLIES
Levee stifled a yawn as she walked the final line of stalls, glancing inside each to make sure the soldiers had properly fed and tended their horses. Her duties had become routine in the month she had been working for Arelee, but one project had held her interest well.
The gypsy stopped beside the stall at the end of the row and peeked in on a tall red bay. She smiled. The horse had his head in his trough as he quenched a hearty appetite. Levee perched her arms against the half-door and inspected the floor, pleased to see a fresh layer of chips covering the stall bed.
“Looks like your partner’s treating you with a little more respect, huh Scout?” Levee observed. Ever since the rearing incident on Levee’s first day of apprenticeship, the red-headed soldier wanted little to do with the bay stallion, and the horse’s feelings were mutual.
In Arelee’s eyes, their conflict became a perfect training opportunity. For five weeks, Levee had worked one-on-one with Scout and his cocky partner in attempt to mend the bond between them.
While they made progress on the training field, their relationship remained tense, so the gypsy assigned the rider—who
se name she learned was Togan—all the chores associated with his mount. From bathing and grooming to mucking and feeding, she made Scout’s care Togan’s responsibility.
From the look of things, the plan was working. New bedding and a hearty meal had Scout in a fine mood, and Togan’s attention to detail told Levee he was putting more care into his efforts. With a satisfied nod, Levee left Scout to his dinner. She made a brief stop in the tack room to gather Melee’s bridle and blanket before heading for the pastures where her faithful palomino waited.
“Ready to go home, Melee?”
The mare nudged Levee’s shoulder with her muzzle. Why don’t we stay at the castle, like Arelee offered? It’s safer than traveling at dusk.
Levee shook her head. “Milo’s still recovering. He needs us.” Pulling the bridle from over her shoulder, the gypsy slipped the leather straps over her mare’s head and eased the bit in place. “We’ll stay in New Haven until he is well again. Besides, traveling at night shouldn’t be a big deal. It was common for us once upon a time, remember?”
Melee gave an offended snort. In those days we traveled in a caravan, with torches and armed companions!
Levee ruffled the mare’s milky forelock. “You worry too much.”
Melee gave a stubborn flip of her mane. On the contrary, I worry just enough for the both of us.
With a giggle, Levee placed the multicolored blanket over her mare’s back and mounted. As they exited the pasture, Levee reflected upon the last few weeks.
Her duties under Arelee’s tutelage had changed on her second day when His Highness never showed up for training. Without so much as an explanation, the horse mistress assumed the prince’s duty of assisting the general while Levee ran the stables in Arelee’s stead.
Meanwhile, Jaycent Connor seemed to have disappeared altogether. Arelee didn't have any answers, and the general provided little explanation other than “the prince had a change of agenda.”
Rumors of His Highness being ill passed from one tongue to the next until it became a common whisper across the royal grounds. Though Levee tried not to get caught up in hearsay, she found herself growing more worried with each day.
As she and Melee marched through the open archway that divided the castle grounds from the city’s bustle, the gypsy breathed a helpless sigh. To fret was pointless. Her concern would not change the prince’s sudden disappearance. Yet his absence cast a heavy atmosphere among the soldiers, nobility, and castle staff.
They trotted through the evening streets, unbothered by the crowd. The unicorn symbol on Levee’s vest was the equivalent of seven guards in the eyes of Nevahardans. Levee let her mind drift, as it often did, daydreaming about warm soup and a comfortable fire inside of the Kasateno’s snug cottage.
Meanwhile, Melee led the way, wading through the crowd to one of the side roads that bordered the perimeter of the city. Although it was a longer route, the traffic was thinner and the palomino easily picked up a swifter pace.
Levee hummed as they rode, her eyes drifting up toward the second and third story houses lining the narrow alley. Laundry lines crisscrossed above their heads, flapping like mismatched banners in the breeze. The voices of mothers echoing over last minute merchant offers reminded her that even cities had pockets of community.
Consumed by her surroundings, Levee continued to hum a soft tune, lulling Melee into a peaceful rhythm as they came upon an intersection. Neither turned their heads down the adjacent road as they trotted along. They didn’t even hear the galloping hooves until they took their first steps into the hurried horse’s path.
Melee’s instincts alone kept them from being trampled as a paint barreled through. The pony darted forward with a frightened shriek, narrowly missing the painted mare’s charge. Startled by the near miss, the mare reared, throwing off her balance with the momentum of her own weight. She tumbled backward, nearly crushing her rider.
Levee wheeled Melee around just in time to see the fall. Horrified, she flung her leg over Melee’s back in a swift dismount. Her wide green eyes watched as the paint rolled back onto her hooves. The rider lay dazed on his back as the high-strung paint danced nervously back and forth. One misstep and his chest would surely be crushed.
Levee cautiously approached the rahee moaning on the ground, her hands outstretched toward the spooked horse. “Tekayah, Melah Pacheh,” she commanded, not caring if anyone heard her. “Calm yourself.”
The paint stared at her with wild eyes and blew hard through her flaring nostrils.
“Kaliano,” Levee persisted, knowing that the beast not only understood her words, but was compelled to heed them.
By then a crowd had gathered around the scene. Whispers of “gypsy” and “horse witch” passed from ear to ear. Ignoring their piercing stares, Levee knelt beside the injured rider and gasped when she recognized him.
“Kotu?” For a moment, she considered walking away and letting the cruel soldier crawl back to the barracks, but her conscience wouldn’t let her turn away. “Are you injured? Can you move at all?”
Kotu growled, his ears flexed back under the force of pain and fury. With a grimace, he lugged himself into a sitting position. “You worthless wretch!” Shoving her to the ground, he pressed his gloved hand against the deep cut on his brow and climbed to his feet. “I should cut your eyes out just to give you a reason for such blindness!”
“I, I’m sorry,” Levee stuttered. She pulled herself up off the ground. “I didn’t mean to, I, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You vermin… Your kind shouldn’t even be allowed in this city!” The rider swung his fist into her stomach. The blow knocked the air from Levee’s lungs as she tumbled onto the cobblestone. “Why the prince tolerates you gypsies is beyond my understanding. Your kind cause us nothing but trouble!”
Kotu launched toward her, but Melee’s solid head butted into his chest, sending him stumbling back to his nervous mare. The soldier wore the same stunned look as the crowd as they marveled at the pony’s loyalty.
Melee gave a shrill whinny and scraped her hoof against the cobblestone in a way that made even Kotu’s paint take a step back. Undeterred, the angry soldier unsheathed his sword.
“I’ll skewer you both,” he threatened.
Tossing her head, the palomino dared him to try.
Thankfully, Kotu never got the chance. A feathered dart shot into his wrist from above. The rider dropped his sword with a howl, tearing the stinging missile from his skin. A light chime rang as three forms dropped from the rooftops, their charcoal-lined eyes striking fear in the hearts of the crowd.
Two gypsies zeroed in on Kotu with several tiny throwing knives hugged between their fingers. The third reached down to Levee and helped her to her feet.
“Go, little sister,” he urged. His smoky eyes met her frightened ones with a mix of reassurance and sympathy. Herding her toward Melee’s back, he cupped his hands close to Levee’s knee. She stepped into his offered palms, using the boost to throw her aching body back onto Melee’s back. “Get out of here quickly! Do not stop until you’re out of Nevaharday. T’is no longer safe for our kind to be in the city.”
Levee stared through tear-soaked eyes, not understanding any of this. “What do you mean? Who are you? What are you going to do to him?”
The gypsy didn’t reply. Instead, he swatted Melee’s haunches, sending Levee and her pony on a mad dash through the outer streets. The world became a blur for Levee as she depended on her faithful palomino to get them far away from the troubling scene. None of it made any sense to her.
Kotu had always been a bully, but not to this extent. Not until now. Something had changed. Kotu had turned into a vicious animal, set apart from the touch of mercy, compassion, or even good conscience.
Melee fled as swiftly as her hooves would carry them. Levee tried to suppress her sobs, her dirty fingers clinched between leather reins.
“Take us home, Melee,” she pleaded.
Dusk drifted into darkness as night stole its c
laim over the land. The sentries seemed to be missing from the eastern gate, leaving her free to race through its doors unhindered. Perhaps the gypsies had distracted the guards long enough for her to escape unharmed.
Then she caught sight of a dark silhouette fleeing across the fields in front of them and knew there was more to this strange affair. Sniffing back her tears, the gypsy strained her neck to gain a better glimpse at the rider’s steed.
She recognized that powerful creature. He moved unearthly fast, especially for such a drafty horse. Squinting, Levee barely made out the slender form of a horn protruding from his brow.
“Diego!” the gypsy gasped. Strands of his tail waved like a thousand little goodbyes as the mount put distance between himself and the city.
Why was he running, and with a rider to boot? Only Jaycent could grace the proud unicorn’s back. Perhaps he knew something about Kotu’s actions. Levee tried to catch up with them. “Prince!”
Jaycent glanced back at them and shouted something that seemed to inspire the unicorn’s legs to move even swifter.
“Don’t let him out of our sight, Melee!” Levee urged.
Neck extended, Melee poured a renewed surge of energy into the chase. Although the prince had been fair to her thus far, Levee doubted he would take kindly to her following him against his will, but she needed to know what was going on. They trailed the regal pair, Melee’s heavy breaths setting the rhythm for her gallop as her legs swished through the tall grass.
Their winding pursuit led them straight to the northern borders. The forests grew thicker here, their depths draped in vines and wild vegetation. Levee pulled back on the reins, slowing Melee to a canter. This was gypsy territory.
“What are you thinking, Your Highness?” she whispered.
As the prince and his unicorn slipped into the cover of the forest, Levee did her best to keep the black stallion within sight, but the density of the trees made it difficult. Diego blended well within the patches of shadow.
Soon, only the sound of hooves in the underbrush hinted toward where the prince was headed. Levee hung onto the sound, determined not to give up, but her chances of tracking the prince disappeared when a voice broke her concentration.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 14