“The carriage will take us to the palace,” Verrick explained. “I’m sure you’d like to spend a few moments with your subjects here, but we haven’t the time to spare. There are people who mustn’t be kept waiting.”
Dean gulped. “The king?” The more he thought about it, the more he dreaded what came next. Some things never changed. For all his skill as a spy, he had one glaring weakness—a conscience. He didn’t relish the thought of conning a teary-eyed father into thinking he had his son back. Not when he was there only to take his money and run.
Verrick adopted a somber tone. “I’m afraid your father was gone as well. They say he died of a broken heart, soon after your mother was lost.”
Dean stopped walking and leaned on Verrick’s arm for support. He made the requisite show of emotion, looking sad and disappointed, but in his heart he was overcome with relief. “Who are we meeting, then? Who rules the kingdom?”
“The lord regent Waverland Kray. For the last ten years, he has been the steward of Zenhala and protector of the throne. He has served the kingdom well, awaiting your glorious return.”
“Is he a good man, this Kray?” Ronan piped up behind Dean, hustling to keep pace with the group as they moved through the crowd.
Verrick seemed surprised by the question. “Lord Kray is as noble as the day is long.”
“Is that long enough? The sun sets every day too, if I’m not mistaken.”
Verrick’s eyes narrowed. “What are you driving at?”
“I’m just saying”—Ronan waved toward the picturesque port town and stately mountains above—“it’s a fair kingdom you have here. For more than a decade, this lord regent’s been a king in all but the name. What if he doesn’t want to give up the throne to my good friend here?” Ronan took Dean by the shoulder and gave him a hearty shake. Dean winced at the strength of Ronan’s grip, but he appreciated his insight. He was showing his worth nicely after all that knuckleheaded bickering with Rook. Dean knew Ronan was a sharp one. He just had to keep his temper in check.
They reached the carriage at the end of the dock. Verrick’s men opened the door, but Dean stopped short of going in. “Well? What about it, Captain Verrick? Is Lord Kray going to be glad to see me?”
Verrick’s only reply was to shake his head, laughing.
Dean scrunched up his face. “What’s so funny?”
“My apologies, Your Grace, but you are questioning the honor of Waverland Kray.” Verrick shook his head with a smile. “If you only knew …”
“Knew what?”
Verrick held open the carriage door and bid Dean enter. “The fact is, Lord Kray will be happier to see you than even these fine people here.”
Dean looked around at the joyous crowd. “Happier than these people?” He shrugged and climbed into the carriage as the people clamored to get one last look at him. “Why is that?”
Verrick waited for Ronan and Rook to enter the carriage, then took a seat next to the driver. “Because it means he’s going to be the father of a queen one day. His daughter is Waverly Kray. Your future wife.”
CHAPTER 13
BLUE BLOOD
The driver got the horses going, and Dean stuck his head out of the carriage window. “I’m sorry, did you say wife?”
Verrick turned around and smiled brightly. “I did!”
Dean watched the trees fly by as the carriage sped down the road. He was at a loss. “How is it that you’re just telling me this now? I’m getting married?”
Verrick answered with a wry smile. “Not today.” He raised an eyebrow. “At least, I don’t think so.”
Dean was not in a joking mood. “Verrick …”
“Don’t worry, Your Grace. Royal weddings take time to plan. The two of you should have at least a week to get to know each other before you take your vows.”
Dean’s jaw dropped. “A week?”
“Watch your head, Your Grace.”
Dean ducked back into the carriage, narrowly avoiding a low-hanging tree branch. Ronan and Rook were inside laughing at him. “Seaborne, you dog,” said Ronan. “I had no idea you were such a ladies’ man.”
“Aye, congratulations to the groom,” Rook added, with the tip of an imaginary cap. Sisto squawked in his cage. Even the bird was mocking him.
“Very funny,” Dean muttered as the carriage drove on. “He’s not serious. He can’t be.” Dean sat back and folded his arms. “He’d better not be.”
They rode out of town following a path that overlooked the white-sand beaches of the bay on one side and the bustling marina on the other. The road wound up a hill and into the forest, which was alive with color, and not only because of the flowers that seemed to bloom on every tree. Bloodred monkeys with bright yellow eyes swung from branch to branch and sat together eating exotic fruits that Dean had never seen before. White birds with iridescent feathers flew out to glide through the air on glimmering wings. The island was a tropical dream, civilized yet unspoiled. The village below and the mountainside homes they passed on the road were all well built and kept with care. Flowers bloomed in every window, and smiling faces appeared from every door. It was the exact opposite of everything Dean had known growing up on St. Diogenes. The garbage-filled back alleys and rickety, rat-infested shacks of his youth seemed a million miles away. Dean had never dreamed a place like this could exist.
“Look there,” Ronan said, pointing at a golden bird the size of a raven. It landed on a nearby branch and spread out its twinkling feathers.
Rook stuck his head out the window to get a closer look, just as a crimson monkey threw away the core of a purple apple. The fruit hit Rook square in the eye. He cursed and drew his head back in. “I hate bloody monkeys.”
“Hah!” Ronan laughed. “Even so. Not every day a body claps eyes on something like that.”
The carriage rounded a corner, and the royal palace came into view.
“Or that,” said Dean.
Ronan, Rook, and Dean jockeyed for position at the windows to get a look at the castle. It was the most spectacular sight that any of them had ever seen. The palace looked like something out of a dream, standing over two hundred feet tall and crafted entirely of marble and white stone. The massive fortress was blinding in both its beauty and its chalk-white hue. The sun’s rays reflected off its stark walls with an unrelenting glare, and that light was added to by six towers tipped with golden spires. Ornate buttresses braced the walls. Stately turrets covered every corner, and intricate embellishments graced each window. The rear of the fort was set against a mountain with a waterfall running down its face, and the front of the palace was shielded by a strong wall and imposing gatehouse. Water from the falls flowed freely through gaps at the base of the wall that were adorned with decorative fountainheads. As the carriage approached, Dean watched the drawbridge open wide and felt his stomach tighten up.
People on the road were cheering as he rode toward the palace. News traveled quickly in Zenhala. The Royal Standard had told the lookouts on land that the lost prince had returned, and the horns they blew had told everyone within earshot. From there, word of mouth had spread faster than the plague, running all the way up to the castle where Dean’s future father-in-law the regent lived. Dean frowned. An arranged marriage with some spoiled princess-to-be was a complication he didn’t need. Not with a couple of hotheads like Ronan and Rook to contend with as well. Dean leaned over to speak with his accomplices, who were both struck dumb by the castle. “You two just batten down your hatches in there and let me do the talking. This is a big stage we’re about to step out on, you hear? Don’t let it throw you. We just have to get through today. We meet the regent, get settled, and get word to One-Eyed Jack. With any luck, we’ll be gone in two days’ time, free to go our separate ways.”
Dean’s little pep talk was as much for his own benefit as it was for Ronan and Rook’s. Ronan smirked. “Before your wedding? Surely not. You’ll break that poor girl’s heart.”
Dean didn’t crack a smile. “You’re pro
bably right.” He didn’t want anything to do with the regent’s daughter. The girl had probably dreamed all her life of the day the lost prince would return. Dean was going to disappoint her in every possible way. It was probably better if they never met. If it were up to him, they never would.
The carriage passed through the main gate and pulled up to the front entrance of the castle. Verrick jumped down and threw open the doors of the brougham. “Here we are, Your Grace. The Aqualine Palace, your family’s ancestral home.”
Dean stepped out first, followed by Ronan and Rook. The three of them paused to take in the view, marveling at the immaculate palace. It was even more magnificent up close, seeming impossibly tall and elaborate. Only one feature was lacking in Dean’s estimation. The courtyard before the main castle door was filled with decorative fountains, and none of them seemed to be working. They lined the perimeter of the plaza with ornamental figureheads of every size. The largest fountain was especially grand. A golden sculpture, depicting a team of winged horses, had been erected over an empty basin in the center of the courtyard. Dry spouts at the base of each steed’s pedestal cried out for water, but there was none to be found. Not for any of the fountains.
Rook scratched his head. “Fer a place called the Aqualine Palace, these fountains seem a bit parched, eh?”
Verrick smiled. “Only for now.”
The captain turned away and led the group up the castle steps. Dean hung back and snapped his fingers at Rook. “What’d I just tell you about talking?”
Rook scowled. “I don’t take orders from you, Seaborne.”
Ronan bumped Rook as he passed him on the stairs. “Say it a little louder, Rook. I don’t think the palace guards heard you.”
Dean looked up as the castle doors swung open. The soldiers posted outside them snapped to attention as he approached. Their gaze was fixed straight ahead, but Dean caught them trying to steal a glance at him with their peripheral vision. They were excited. Dean gave them a shaky nod, trying to come off a bit overwhelmed. He always took care to project the emotions that an honest person would feel had they been in his shoes. It was part of being a good spy, but in this case it was also the truth. Everything was happening so fast. Dean told himself to keep it together and press on.
He entered the palace and looked around the main entry hall. The castle interior was as white as its exterior, but with a touch of added flair. Decorative columns placed throughout the chamber ran up to the ceiling and held a golden dome in place. Colorful depictions of Zenhalan wildlife were inlaid in the floors. In the center of the room was a red marble statue of a woman holding a baby. It was the focal point of yet another dry fountain. Dean approached the sculpture with keen interest.
“The queen?” he asked Verrick.
Verrick nodded. “Built in remembrance of her. And you.” He gestured toward an arch on the other side of the chamber. “Through here, sire.”
Dean, Rook, and Ronan followed Verrick through the castle, studying its curious décor as they went. The walls of most corridors were made of mammoth sheets of glass that ran from the floor to the ceiling. The vast chambers behind the thick glass panes housed schools of tropical fish swimming in shallow pools of water. As Verrick addressed the guards outside the throne room doors, Dean took in the frescoes painted on the walls of the royal antechamber. There were four of them, depicting the stages of Zenhala’s golden harvest. The first mural was of farmers planting seeds as a violent storm raged off in the distance. The second painting showed workers pulling handfuls of gold out of full-grown trees. The third mural portrayed a scene on the docks; crates of gold were loaded onto ships as the traders set sail under perfect conditions. The fourth and final mural was a painting of the traders returning to port with a bounty of food and livestock as the storm winds chased them home.
“Looks like we’ve come to the right place,” Dean said. “Remember, let me—”
“Let you do the talking,” Ronan said. “We know.”
The guards opened the doors, and Dean took a deep breath. The curtain was up. If everything went according to plan, this would be his final performance. The role of a lifetime, Dean thought. The idea brought him comfort as Verrick led the way into the immense throne hall. Its ceiling was at least two stories tall, with long blue banners hanging down everywhere. A deep blue carpet ran across the room to the throne, where a man dressed all in white was talking to the regent. The man’s back was to the door, but as Dean got closer, he was able to make out what he was saying. “I must urge you to proceed with caution, Lord Kray. The timing here is suspect. I find it rather convenient that the prince should return now, just as you’re about to be rewarded for your many years of service.”
“I can assure you there was nothing convenient about our journey here,” Verrick called out. “Or the last thirteen years at sea, for that matter.”
The man in white spun around, embarrassed. He had jet-black hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail, with a gray streak in front. His thin mustache and pointy beard reminded Dean of the way people drew the devil in cartoons, but he was wearing the wrong color for that. The man was dressed in a stark white tunic and matching pants, with a cape that hung to his waist. A golden medal pinned on his breast was the only touch of color on his pallid uniform.
Upon seeing Dean, the men and women of the court bowed their heads and bent their knees. It was a strange, uncomfortable moment for Dean, but it was one that would pass quickly. The man in white did not kneel. “On your feet, lords and ladies,” he said. “Members of the royal guard … at ease.” He looked to Dean. “Forgive me, young sir. I mean you no disrespect. I just happen to be a more watchful man than most.” He shook his head at the members of the court as they got up off their knees. “Someone here has to be. The cheers outside our castle walls notwithstanding, proof of your lineage has not been confirmed. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Arjent Ralian.” Verrick bristled. “I would not bring him before the regent if I were not satisfied that he was the—”
“His identity has not been established by anyone other than an overzealous sea captain,” the man in white said, cutting Verrick off. “And I’ll thank you to address me as Lord Ralian, sir.”
Verrick glared at the man in white. Lord Ralian was the first person Dean had met on the island who wasn’t happy to see him.
“Don’t look at me like that, Captain Verrick. It’s my duty to be suspicious. I have been charged with protecting this kingdom, have I not?”
“You have,” a strong voice called out. “And we thank you for your devotion, but I have been charged with protecting the throne until such time as the broken line of Aquos is restored. If that day has come, then it has come.” The lord regent stood up and the room quieted down. Dean was impressed. Waverland Kray might not have been born a king, but he certainly looked the part. True blood royalty or not, he had a king’s bearing. The regent had a large frame and an imposing figure. A hearty beard covered his chin, and thick brown hair covered his head. The only feature missing from his royal veneer was a crown. Instead, the regent wore a gold chain with three large medallions over a formal green dress coat. He placed a hand on Verrick’s shoulder. “Captain, is it true? Can it be true?”
“I believe so, my lord.” Verrick stepped aside to reveal Dean. “Lord Regent Kray, it is my honor to present Dean Seaborne. The lost prince of Zenhala and heir to the golden throne.”
Dean took a deep breath as Kray looked him up and down. It was quite a moment for Dean. His royal debut. The regent didn’t seem convinced. Perhaps his advisor, Lord Ralian, had already succeeded in planting a seed of doubt in his mind. Or perhaps it was something more. Namely, a desire for Dean not to be the rightful heir to the throne he had just been sitting on so comfortably.
Ronan nudged Dean from behind, silently imploring him to say something. Dean realized he was falling down on the job of “doing all the talking” and bowed his head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Regent. Captain Verrick tells m
e that in my absence, you have ruled my kingdom with honor. I’m in your debt.”
Kray rubbed his beard. “Your kingdom, is it? This is the house of Aquos, Dean Seaborne. How did you come by that name, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“How does anyone come by a name, sir? It was given to me. Where I come from, Seaborne is the surname that all children of unknown origins get saddled with.”
“Where you come from,” Lord Kray repeated suspiciously.
“He never knew his family,” Verrick said. “He is the correct age.”
“And the mark?” Ralian asked. “Does he bear the mark?”
Dean rolled up his sleeve to reveal the brand on his left arm. Three wave crests rising in a circle. It was the same sigil that adorned countless banners hanging throughout the room. Kray took Dean by the hand and looked over the mark.
“So it would appear,” Kray said. He dropped Dean’s hand. It was not exactly a ringing endorsement of his claim to the throne. The regent turned his attention to Ronan, Rook, and Sisto. “Who’s this you have with you?”
“These are my friends,” Dean lied. “I wouldn’t go anywhere without them.”
“I see. Did you convince them that you’re a prince too, or only Captain Verrick?”
“Actually, Captain Verrick convinced me. I never believed in this place until I met him. If you asked me a week ago, I would have told you Zenhala was a myth.”
“And now here you are. An uncanny turn of events, wouldn’t you say?”
“Almost impossible to believe,” Ralian agreed.
“Is there a problem?” Dean asked.
“That depends,” Kray replied. He looked as if he could hardly believe it himself. “I’m curious. What did you think was going to happen here today? Did you think that I would just step aside? Offer you my place on the throne? Place the crown upon your head as you came in the door?”
Dean straightened his back and looked the regent square in the eye. “If you want the truth, I didn’t know what was going to happen today, Lord Kray. I didn’t come here with any expectations. The only thing I knew for sure was that it couldn’t be worse than staying where I was.”
The Lost Prince Page 10