Reign of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘Where would you like to go?’ Prince Nazuri asked her.

  ‘Are there any gardens here?’

  The prince nodded. ‘I know a place,’ he said.

  Like Princess Olena, Swinton had never been to the palace greenhouse. It was vastly different to those he had seen in Ellest. The garden within was entirely underground, and yet natural light shone down through shafts above them. Upon taking only a few steps forward, greenery surrounded them. Rows and rows of flowers, fruit trees and sweet-smelling herbs filled the great chamber. Prince Nazuri led the princess and her guard through the twisting paths until they reached a quaint picnic area. The pair sat down on a sandstone bench, and Princess Olena ran her fingers across its engravings, her clouded eyes glazed over.

  ‘Your Highness?’ Swinton asked from beside her. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘This bench feels similar to that in the gardens by the maze in Ellest. Is it of the same likeness?’ she asked.

  Swinton suppressed his shudder at the thought of the maze. The princess would have no idea what horrors lay beneath it, what he had witnessed at her father’s bidding. The rotten stench of the place was etched in his mind, and bile burned the back of his throat at the memory. He focused on the bench. Swinton knew the one the princess spoke of. She had spent much of her time there alongside the boy she knew as the stable master’s unruly son. He could tell she felt Dash’s absence far more keenly than that of her family. Swinton turned his gaze to the bench itself.

  ‘It’s the same kind of shape as the one back home,’ he said. ‘But it’s made of sandstone, which is a golden colour, warm, like the sun …’

  Princess Olena smiled sadly. ‘Your description reminds me of a friend of mine.’

  ‘A good friend, I hope, Your Highness.’

  ‘My only friend.’

  Swinton felt a stab of pity for her.

  Prince Nazuri squeezed her hand. ‘Perhaps you can make some new friends here.’

  ‘My friend was my eyes, Your Highness. Can you imagine losing your sight not once, but twice?’

  The prince blinked. ‘No. No, I cannot.’

  After that, the pair sat in silence, the tension so palpable it was all Swinton could do not to shift from foot to foot in discomfort. Beside him, Fiore was fidgeting, and opposite, another Ellestian, Stefan, bore a pained expression.

  Finally, the prince rose to his feet. ‘Leave us,’ he told the guards.

  Prince Nazuri’s own guard vanished, as though they were very much accustomed to this kind of dismissal. Olena’s guard waited for Swinton’s signal, which he gave them. He couldn’t very well allow his entire guard to disobey the command of a prince. However, Swinton himself hesitated. He didn’t take orders from Battalon. Fiore stood firm beside him.

  ‘The commander stays,’ said Olena, as though reading Swinton’s mind.

  Swinton readied himself for a disagreement with the prince, but Nazuri merely shrugged.

  ‘If he is friend to you, he is friend to me,’ he said, sitting back down.

  Though Swinton highly doubted Princess Olena thought of him as a ‘friend’, he was relieved to be allowed in their presence.

  Get close to him, Commander.

  Swinton dismissed Fiore with a nod.

  ‘Do you like to read?’ the prince asked Olena, as though Swinton wasn’t there.

  ‘I can only read certain types of books,’ the princess replied.

  ‘Is it quaveer that you read? The olden-time book language for those who cannot see?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I read quaveer.’

  The prince smiled warmly, and Swinton hoped that the princess could feel his sincerity.

  ‘I am glad. I had a great number of books sent here for you from Havennesse.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t know what you liked to read, so I asked for a broad selection. We can have more sent over as soon as you’ve gone through what we have.’

  ‘Havennesse has quaveer books?’

  ‘Many,’ the prince allowed. ‘Their libraries are probably the most extensive in all four continents.’

  ‘That was very thoughtful of you,’ said Olena. ‘You have my gratitude.’

  ‘Olena.’ Nazuri’s voice dropped low. ‘We … I feel as though we are on the same side, you and I.’

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Were you not opposed to this union?’

  The princess said nothing.

  ‘I was,’ Nazuri admitted. ‘And as lovely as you are, I did not wish to marry someone so many years younger than I – or anyone at all, at this point in my life. What I would like, more than anything, is a friend. An ally within these walls.’

  Princess Olena hesitated. ‘A friend? You want to be my friend?’

  ‘Very much,’ he said.

  Swinton tried his best to study the gardens around them, but in truth, he was nearly holding his breath. An interesting choice of word, ally …

  ‘Your friend … Was your friend someone in your household?’ Nazuri asked her.

  ‘He’s the stable master’s son,’ Olena said.

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘My closest friend was a porter-in-training.’ He brushed the hair from his eyes and sighed. ‘Perhaps we can talk again tomorrow?’

  Princess Olena nodded slowly. ‘I would like that.’

  ‘Then it is settled. I shall leave you in the company of your commander.’ Prince Nazuri dipped into a swift bow before the princess, and strode off down the garden path.

  Olena turned to Swinton. ‘I suppose you heard every word?’

  ‘Occupational hazard, Your Highness.’

  ‘I needn’t remind you to keep what you overhear to yourself?’

  Swinton shook his head. ‘Of course not, Your Highness. Princess, if I may be so bold as to offer some advice?’

  ‘You’ll no doubt give it regardless.’

  Swinton rubbed his temples. ‘Be careful with what you reveal to the prince. We don’t know if he can be trusted yet.’

  Olena gave a bitter laugh. ‘Frankly, I don’t know if you can be trusted yet.’

  Swinton was horrified. Had he done something to offend the young royal? ‘Your Highness, I serve you.’

  ‘No, you serve my father. And even in that respect, you, like so many others, only serve him to serve yourself. And look where it’s got you.’

  ‘Your Highness?’

  ‘Babysitting a blind princess in the middle of a desert. You think I don’t recognise a punishment when I see one? Why do you think I’m here?’

  Swinton swallowed, saying nothing.

  ‘Despite my blindness, and my youth, I know that trust needs to be earned, by princes and commanders alike.’

  Outside, the sun blazed down on Battalon’s capital, Belbarrow, as Swinton and Fiore wove through the crowded streets. Swinton had chosen to board his stallion, Xander, at the secondary royal stables on the outskirts of the city, where the air was fresher, but it meant it was a trek to get there. Around them, hundreds of homes were built into the desert plains and cliffs, and dry heat radiated from the roofs of the buildings in blurry waves. The magnificent, jagged palace shiprock was at the heart, towering over the city, casting a long, dark shadow down the centre of the streets and markets.

  Swinton had strapped his coin purse tight to his abdomen beneath his clothes, and left his signature battleaxes in his chambers, but as he moved between the street merchants and beggars, he held the hilt of his sword steady. Without Ellest’s royal sigil embroidered proudly on his chest, not many of the local commoners knew who he was just yet, and they certainly weren’t above robbing a foreigner in broad daylight. The crime in Belbarrow was out for all to see, a proud display of its people’s cunning and opportunism, whereas the swift thievery and underhand dealings of Ellest were all still kept in the shadows.

  Cursing the heat, Swinton undid the first few laces of his shirt, the coin of Yacinda beating against his chest as they walked.

  �
��Dimitri,’ Fiore said, stooping to pick something up.

  ‘What?’

  Fi handed him the torn piece of parchment from the ground, frowning.

  Swinton’s stomach churned. He’d seen this flyer before, far across the seas, back home.

  Register today for generous rewards, and the opportunity to serve your crown.

  Preserve your magical heritage.

  Seek the Temple Master for more information.

  He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and looked out across the city before him.

  ‘Dimi?’ Fi pushed. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think Battalon’s a bloody furnace.’

  An exasperated sigh sounded. ‘About the flyer.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You’re not even slightly concerned? After what happened —’

  ‘Don’t speak of it.’

  ‘Dimitri —’

  ‘I said, don’t speak of it.’

  Fiore shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you. You know as well as I do what goes on at that gods-damned tower and you let them —’

  ‘One brief stint as a guard there doesn’t make you an expert.’

  ‘It’s more than you can say,’ Fi snapped, straightening and facing Swinton.

  ‘You know nothing of what I know.’ Swinton’s voice went low, his burnt-umber eyes filled with darkness.

  Fiore’s face softened. ‘Then tell me, Dimitri. Your secrets have kept you company far too long.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with me. Our duty is to the princess now. Moredon Tower, the search for the Ashai – they’re not for us to meddle in.’

  ‘Dimitri,’ Fi implored. ‘It’s followed us here. It’s not just Heathton, it’s not just King Arden. You won’t even ask questions. You can’t tell me things don’t seem amiss.’

  Swinton thrust the scrunched ball of parchment into Fiore’s chest. ‘I have to get to the stables. I want to fit in a ride before supper.’

  ‘What happened to you?’ Fiore said.

  ‘No, Fiore, what happened to you? Where’s your loyalty? This phantom conspiracy you speak of – it’s treasonous. And I won’t be a part of it.’

  Fi threw his hands up. ‘You’re already a part of it.’

  You have no idea, Swinton thought, and kept walking. It wasn’t just the heat that pressed down on him now.

  Chapter 5

  The roll of linen Dash Carlington had been fiddling with in the fabric shop fell, tipping over a heavy box on the way down. It crashed, shooting buttons in every direction. Several people in the shop gasped, and Mama flushed pink. Dash scampered to the floor, picking up as many as he could, Mama scolding him under her breath.

  ‘Wait outside,’ she hissed, knees cracking as she stood to put the box back on the shelf. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to the shopkeep.

  Outside, Heathton’s high street was bustling with people running errands and doing their household shopping. Dash leaned against the window and watched the passers-by. Middle-aged women in swishing skirts and aprons gave him distrustful looks as they came and went from the fabric shop, no doubt thinking him a pickpocket on the prowl. He scowled back at them. He was no pickpocket. He’d never dream of such a thing. Knights didn’t steal. Unless it was biscuits from the castle cook. That was different.

  Pa had recently received a generous tip for caring for one of the noblemen’s horses, and Mama was eager to make new clothes for them all, which meant buying new fabric. It was a bright day, and Dash couldn’t help but think of his friend, Princess Olena, and how if she were here, the two of them would be sitting on the stone bench in the royal gardens, the sun warming their faces. She would be asking him to describe the sky to her, and Dash would be her eyes.

  Someone pushed past Dash, nearly sending him sprawling across the dirt road. A large hand caught his elbow and hoisted him up. Dash’s eyes met the wicked grin and crooked nose of a tall stranger.

  ‘You should really be more careful,’ the man said, revealing a gold tooth as he winked.

  But before Dash could argue that it was the man who’d bumped into him, the stranger’s tattered tailcoat was already disappearing into the crowded street.

  Frowning, Dash’s attention was drawn back to the bustling town centre. The markets in Heathton were a hub of activity, as always. The cobblestone laneways were jam-packed with people scuttling to and from the main town square. Some of the shopfronts had taken to selling from tables on the street, while other vendors sold wares straight from packs strapped onto their fronts. Things seemed busier than usual. Dash spied a troop of guards stationed nearby, and he marvelled at the sight of their crisp black uniforms, the royal sigil of two crossed battleaxes circled with a crown of fire stitched proudly onto their chests.

  ‘Happened under the commander’s watch, didn’t it? Why do you reckon he was sent to Belbarrow?’ said one of the guards to his companion.

  The companion looked bored. ‘Glorified babysitter.’

  ‘Well she escaped, didn’t she? Someone’s gotta pay for that.’

  Dash took a few steps after them, listening intently.

  ‘How’d she escape, though? We’ve got the best guards in the realm.’

  The first guard shrugged. ‘Inside job, I reckon. Everyone’s saying so.’

  ‘I’ve been stationed under Swinton my whole life. There’s no way he’d botch something like this up. He’s due for a knighthood any day.’

  ‘Wouldn’t hold your breath now.’

  It wasn’t the first time Dash had heard stories of the Valian who had escaped the castle, nor was it the second, or third for that matter. But it was the first he’d heard about someone helping her, and the commander at that. The commander was nearly a knight – he would never.

  From the bedtime stories his mama told him, the Valians were some of the best warriors in all the lands, so there must be an epic tale to go with her escape. He’d have to ask Mama when she was in a better mood. Or perhaps he could sneak a question into his next letter to Olena. She had the sharpest ears of anyone he knew.

  ‘Master Dash.’ Mama’s crisp voice sounded from the shop entrance. ‘Make yourself useful and carry these bags,’ she said.

  He ducked inside and did as she bid, while she pressed her silver into the shopkeep’s greedy palm and apologised again for Dash wreaking havoc on the place. When they left the shop, Mama’s walk was brisk as she zigzagged in and out of the people shuffling down the street, and Dash had to jog to keep up with her. Though he caught her looking back every few moments to check he wasn’t too far behind. The streets became more crowded as they got closer to the town square, where the wealthier vendors were trading. Stalls with large cloth awnings displayed dried and fresh fruits, leather goods, trinkets and preserves.

  Mama stopped by the fruit briefly to purchase some peaches – a rare treat for Dash and his pa.

  ‘Not that you deserve it,’ Mama added, though her smiling eyes betrayed her sharp remark. ‘Come now, let’s get away from this madness.’

  But as they turned to head back towards the main cobbled street, someone hit the gong on the podium in the centre of the square and the crowd became suddenly compact, trapping them.

  ‘A message from your king,’ called a herald, his voice echoing across the throng of people.

  Mama’s hand gripped Dash’s arm as she craned her neck to see what was going on. Dash could hear the sound of another person walking up the steps of the podium, but all he could see were the backs of other people.

  ‘Not long ago, a prisoner escaped from the castle,’ a deep, familiar voice rang out. ‘We are currently seeking knowledge of her whereabouts. The escaped prisoner is none other than Henrietta Valia, traitor matriarch of the Valian Forest. She is a dangerous Ashai, and we ask that anyone with information come forward at once …’

  Dash realised who was speaking now. It was Tannus, the royal weapons master, the man who trained the squires.

  ‘We will be patrolling the streets until fur
ther notice,’ he continued. ‘We will be searching any suspicious properties at will. Should we discover information being withheld, punishments will be severe.’

  There was a cry from nearby, and Mama gasped.

  ‘Mama.’ Dash tugged on her arm. ‘Mama, what is it?’

  Mama was fixed to the spot.

  ‘I did nothing – nothing wrong! I’ve never seen the woman in my life, please —’

  Dash’s stomach lurched. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, he was scared. There was desperation in the man’s voice, and no one was doing anything to help him. Mama’s arms gripped Dash tightly, and pulled him to stand in front of her. Then her hands cupped his ears. Dash fought to move them, but she only clamped down harder, muffling the sound of the man’s cries. Dash squeezed his eyes shut, too.

  Mama barely spoke on the walk back to their cottage beyond the royal stables. Dash was glad for the bags in his arms, for they stopped his hands from shaking. He still wasn’t sure what had happened in the town square, but he knew Mama was upset. And he could still hear the man’s pleas in his head.

  ‘Move along now,’ Mama hissed, as they passed through the gatehouse and made their way around the back of the stables. Pa wasn’t there.

  When they finally got back to the cottage, Mama fumbled so much with the key that the bunch clattered to the floor. Berating herself, she picked them up and eventually, the lock clicked and the door swung inward.

  ‘Emmett?’ Mama called out Pa’s name. ‘Emmett, are you here?’

  Dash slid the bags of fabric onto the kitchen table. He didn’t know why Mama was calling out like that. Their cottage was so small, if Pa were here, he would have heard the door open.

  Mama loosed a heavy breath, sat down on one of the old wooden chairs, and looked to Dash. ‘Boil some water for me, will you, Dash?’

  Dash found that his hands had steadied as he fixed the pot over the stovetop to boil. Mama had shown him how to brew tea only a few days ago, and he was happy to put the new knowledge to use.