Linnet and the Prince

by Alydia Rackham

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

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  About the author

  Linnet and the Prince

  Alydia Rackham

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  Copyright 2012 Alydia Rackham. All rights reserved.

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  For Julie

  Chapter One

  “Linnet! Come down!”

  “But I can see it from here!”

  “You will tear your clothes. Mother’s told you not to climb trees anymore. You’re too old.”

  I ignored my older sister far below me and adjusted my hold on the beech tree, amongst whose pale branches I stood. It was early spring, so the leaves did not obstruct my view of the vast rolling emerald hills in the east. I smiled as I gazed over them, and saw the gray ruins of Tilmidel skirted in mist. It was cloudy, so the morning sun did not get in my eyes. I had never seen Tilmidel so clearly before.

  “How far away is it, do you think?” I called, not taking my eyes from the distant castle. My sister, Aeleth, sighed.

  “Too far for you to try to make it there before it is time to get ready for tonight, so don’t even think about it.”

  “I wasn’t,” I lied, smiling at the castle.

  “You are ridiculous.” I could just see Aeleth shaking her blonde head as she picked berries from the thicket below. “Most girls of fifteen are more interested in chasing boys than exploring haunted ruins.”

  “Sixteen,” I reminded her. “I’m offended, I think.” I glanced down at her, arching an eyebrow. “You arranged my birthday party.”

  She lifted her head and her azure eyes sparked at me, set out by her plain blue dress. I had always thought that my sister was uncommonly pretty, what with her perfect, pale skin, slender form, plaited golden hair and graceful hands, and she could be pleasant to be around if she was not in one of her mothering moods.

  I, on the other hand, had chestnut hair—which was not considered as beautiful as gold by anyone I knew—and though I was slender too, and had blue eyes, I was shorter than she was. Besides which, I had calloused hands from handling bow and blade, and I was one of the few girls allowed to wear a long tunic and trousers instead of a dress. And I was not always known for being pleasant.

  “Anyway, you’re a princess,” Aeleth said. “Which means that you should not be climbing trees.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I do,” I replied, watching a sparrow that had landed on a twig not three feet above me. “You’re the one who will be queen, not me. I’m just here to protect you.”

  “Then it would still be inconvenient if you broke your neck. So come down.”

  I sighed, took one last look at Tilmidel, then swung down, thudding to the grass right next to my sister. I grinned at her as I arose and dusted off my hands and brown sleeves. She just shoved a basket of berries at me. Making a face at her, I took it and resumed helping her pick the berries, disheartened that I could no longer see Tilmidel because of the stretch of thick forest that stood in the way.

  LLL

  “I have not torn my clothes for years,” I huffed as I walked beside Aeleth on the narrow, winding path back home. The breeze rustled through the new leaves overhead, and sunshine—which had just come out—dappled the young grass and ferns all around us.

  “You did tear your clothes,” Aeleth insisted, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. “Just this past Haventide you—”

  “Sh.” I halted, and grabbed her elbow. “Hear that?”

  She frowned. I held my breath, listening. I heard it again: laughing, struggling, shouts.

  A fight.

  “Hold this.” I shoved my basked into Aeleth’s hands.

  “Linnet!” Aeleth objected, but I took off down the path, my soft boots thudding on the dirt. I pumped my arms and breathed rhythmically, my gaze darting ahead of me. The noises grew louder, and when I wheeled around the corner, I met the source.

  Two tall boys my age flung another boy onto his back. The tall ones looked like brothers—blonde and blue-eyed. The one who struck the earth had black hair and tanned skin. The brothers wore fine clothes of the country gentry—I did not know them. But the fallen boy’s name was Gar, and he had been my friend from childhood. The strangers were hitting him. And that made me see red.

  “Get back!” I commanded, leaping in front of Gar. The blonde boys jumped away, startled. I heard Gar’s labored breathing behind me. I turned to him and bent down. His plain brown clothes were torn and dirty, and when he lifted his bright black eyes to me, I saw his lip and nose were bleeding, and the star-shaped scar on his left cheek stood out, enflamed. I helped him to his feet—he only stood an inch taller than I.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, dusting him off. He ducked his head.

  “Lin,” he muttered, shooting a chagrined glance at the others.

  “Oh, they can bile thar haids,” I growled.

  “What do you think of this, Chais?” one blonde chuckled to the other. “The Badi half-breed needs some girl to defend him!” And he shoved my shoulder.

  I whirled, grabbed his elbow and delivered a chop hand to the side of his neck. I kicked forward and whipped his leg out from under him. He thudded to the ground. A gasp snapped out of him and his eyes went wide. Chais jumped over his brother, roaring, and charged at me. I leaned down and struck his chest with my shoulder. He stumbled back and tripped over his brother. He landed on his back on his brother’s chest.

  “Get off!” the first one choked. I leaped on top of Chais, pinning both boys down. Chaise glared at me.

  “Listen, you—” he started.

  I slapped his face. He sucked in his breath. My eyes blazed.

  “I am Linnet, second daughter of King Peliar and Queen Ealasaid,” I hissed, leaning down and pointing a finger right at his nose. “I have been trained since I was born to bring men to their knees to protect my sister—and I will also protect my friends from the likes of you stuffed-shirt, ignorant country rats.” I got off them and backed up to Gar’s side. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aeleth arrive, still bearing both baskets. She only watched—she had seen this before.

  “What made you think he was one of them?” I demanded.

  “The scar on his face,” Chais managed. “It…well, it looks like a Badi symbol!”

  I looked down my nose at the strangers, who now scrabbled up and blushed, hardly meeting my eyes.

  “My friend Gar lived with his family at the base of the Black Steps when he was little,” I told them, my voice low and deliberate. “One night, a group of Badi raiders captured their home. They burned his mother and father alive on spits, cut off their heads, and branded Gar with the iron they use on their horses.”

  The brothers stood together now, heads bowed. I wanted to hit them again, but re
strained myself.

  “How dare you call him one of them?” I snarled. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  I slid my hand down and took hold of Gar’s. He said nothing—his eyes shimmered with tears. I started down the path again, Gar in tow. He squeezed my hand. I returned the pressure.

  I heard Aeleth’s skirt whisper as she passed the brothers.

  “I hope I do not see you two at the feast tomorrow,” she said, her tone regal and cool as my mother’s. And then she caught up to us, and walked on the other side of Gar. She gave him a winning smile, and handed him a kerchief.

  “Are you ready for the festival tomorrow, Gar?” she asked effortlessly lifting the mood.

  He managed a smile and wiped the blood from his lips.

  “Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

  “I hope your uncle is bringing his special cider,” I said.

  “Oh, he is,” Gar nodded. “Would…Would the two of you like to come taste it?”

  LLL

  “Where have you two been?” my mother, a solemn, blonde beauty like my sister, but with less light in her eyes and a firmer mouth, asked as we came in. She wore a deep emerald gown with bell sleeves, and was arranging blue and white flowers in a vase on the broad main table. I shut the thick wooden door behind me, my basket resting on my hip. My sister, who had entered first, strode into the long hall and smiled at Mother.

  “We picked enough berries for practically everyone to eat tomorrow,” Aeleth announced, gracefully avoiding the subject of the scuffle, as she always had before.

  “Good! I have been longing for berries all winter,” Mother said, dipping her hand into Aeleth’s basket and taking one out to eat. I glanced up and down, noticing that Mother was alone in the tall-ceilinged, grand hallway. I always took a deep breath when I came in here—it smelled of burning pine and cooking pheasant; and footsteps and voices echoed warmly against its wooden walls, hung shields and arched rafters. I moved to the main table and set my basket there, then sat down on the stone floor in a square of bright sunlight that came in through an upper window. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, and halfway listened to my mother and sister discussing the state of the berry bushes.

  “You shouldn’t sit in the sun like that,” Aeleth scolded.

  “She’s right,” my mother agreed. “Your skin will turn brown.”

  “So?” I raised my eyebrows but did not open my eyes.

  “I’ll not have you look like a filthy Badi. Get out of the sun.”

  I bit back my reply—my mother was relentless and severe on this point, no matter how much time I spent outside, and how much tanner I got than my sister because I practiced my shooting or riding. Letting out a breath, I slid to my feet.

  “Come with me, Linnet,” Aeleth beckoned, giving a half smile. “Help me pick out something to wear tomorrow night.”

  “Don’t trust her judgment, Aeleth,” Mother warned her as I took my sister’s soft hand and we trotted toward the door.

  “Linnet will have you dressed in trousers!” My mother despaired. “Aeleth, you pick something for her to wear, and make sure she looks presentable this time!”

  Both of us just laughed as we dodged out of the hall and down the narrow corridor toward my sister’s rooms.

  LLL

  “Please pay attention—I really do need your help!” Aeleth called me out of my reverie—I had been gazing out the window of her chambers at a large group of happy, loud-voiced, well-dressed peasants making their way down the winding road from the mountains to the town. I turned and faced my sister, leaning back on the windowsill.

  She had opened her trunk and flung out every dress she owned across her broad curtained bed, her two other trunks, and her vanity table. Two even lay on the rug. Equally, her jewelry box had been dumped out on the pillow, and the treasures glittered in the light that came in through the window behind me.

  “Come out of the sun!” Aeleth scolded me again, pushing a strand of hair away from her face and picking one of the dresses up.

  “No,” I said. “I spent all winter practically freezing to death—I am not about to hide from the light like a mole. Besides, you can smell the heather now—smell it?”

  “Yes, I smell it,” Aeleth muttered. “The red gown or the green one?”

  “Mother is wearing red,” I answered, propping my elbow on the sill and glancing back over the fields and wandering road. I let out a slow breath. “I really thought Father would be back for this festival.”

  My sister’s bustling halted. After a moment, she cleared her throat.

  “Yes, well, it’s because of him that we can actually have the festival. If he doesn’t keep the Badi beaten back, they’d overrun the kingdom. And I’m sure the festival wouldn’t be in the Badi’s taste. They’d probably rather eat raw horse meat.”

  “You think they would leave us alive to discuss the particulars of a festival with them?” I raised an eyebrow at her. She folded up the red dress and put it back.

  “I don’t want to think about that,” she said. I began to smile.

  “What would you rather think about?”

  “Nothing,” she insisted. But she blushed.

  “It’s William,” I guessed. Her eyes flashed at me.

  “Shush,” she hissed. “It is not.”

  I was grinning now.

  “You are going to see him at the feast, aren’t you? You’re going to dance with him, even though Mumma said you shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t care what Mumma thinks,” she said, lifting her chin, but her cheeks were scarlet. “And I don’t care what you think, either.”

  I laughed out loud. She slapped my shoulder.

  “I’ll not be laughed at by a baby sister,” she snapped. “Especially one who has been no help, and probably wants to wear one of my dresses.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “I’m not laughing,” I mumbled.

  “Good,” Aeleth gave me a sharp look. “Then tell me which gown I should wear.”

  LLL

  Twilight fell as I left the mead hall, wrapping a woolen shift around my shoulders. The air was chill, and smelled of peat fires. My footsteps padded on the dirt road as I headed down the hill, and passed between the blacksmith shop and the tanner. I left the road, turned left and walked around to the back of the smith, then smiled at the figures that waited in the gray light.

  Elb, a lanky young man with bright brown eyes and messy brown hair, who had been my best friend since birth, glanced up from where he sat gave me a big grin and waved a long-fingered hand at me.

  “Hello, Lin!”

  “Cheers,” I said, coming up to stand beside him. Gar sat on Elb’s other side, and only sent me a short look and a nod. Both stretched their hands over a low pit where a tame fire danced. It made their faces glow with orange light, and enlivened their eyes.

  I plopped down next to Elb, still enjoying the freedom of my tunic and trousers. Elb towered over me, since he sat on a stump. I eyed him.

  “You need new clothes,” I remarked. “Your trousers are too short and your shirt sleeves practically come up to your elbows.”

  “Yes, I know—I can’t really help that,” Elb said, tossing a twig in the fire.

  “You eat like a horse,” Gar noted, rubbing a finger across his hurt lower lip. “You are already taller than your father, and you’re still growing.”

  “You are lucky I am,” Elb answered back. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get that lost arrow for you.”

  Gar scowled.

  “I would have preferred getting shouted at by my uncle—maybe that would have kept me out of the woods and in the shop where I belong.”

  “Listen, that was not your fault,” I spoke up. “Those brick-heads were looking for trouble already—I just wish I had been able to give them more than they bargained for.”

  “I heard about that!” Elb crowed, slapping my back. “Well done!”

  I laughed.

  “Did Gar tell you?” />
  “No, I saw those two—limping and dusting themselves off like beaten whelps,” he grinned. “I heard the fully story from William—Aeleth must have told him what happened.”

  I looked to Gar.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  He sighed and narrowed his eyes.

  “Listen, it’s just a wee bit embarrassing to have to be saved by a girl, all right?”

  “I resent that,” I replied. “I’m not just any girl. And there were two of them.”

  He was not listening. He was staring into the flames, running his thumb across the brand on his cheek. My light mood vanished.

  “Gar, I know it’s tradition,” I murmured. “But you don’t have to tell the story tonight if you don’t want to.”

  “Oh, psh,” he snapped, throwing a leaf in the fire. It sparked. “I am not that much of a weak-liver.”

  “Well…” I shrugged, teasing. He tried to scowl at me, but I gave him such a big smile that he had to chuckle.

  “All right, fine,” he sighed.

  “Oh, good,” Elb rubbed his hands together. “My festival was going to be ruined otherwise.”

  I agreed with him, but I would never have said so—I had not wanted to pressure Gar. The story he had told us every eve of the Spring Festival since we were young was a favorite amongst the Steps people—all of Hilrigard had heard it since Gar’s coming, of course—but to this day, no one could tell it better than he.

  “Long ago, in a land that is far from this one,” Gar began, leaning forward and capturing our eyes. “There lived a Badi king…who was afraid of Death.”

  A chill ran down my back as I wrapped my arms around my knees, already breathless. Gar gave a small smile, and went on.

  “He was very wealthy, and had many wives. Nothing he desired was ever denied him. Because of this, he feared to lose it all. It worried him so much that he could not eat, and could not sleep. At last, his advisors urged him to open a door deep in a cave—a door that had never been opened, for it was the doorway to the mansion of Death. They told him to bargain with Death and learn the key to immortality.” Gar paused and an owl hooted. I scooted closer to Elb and leaned against his leg. Gar folded his hands and continued.