Linnet and the Prince

by Alydia Rackham

  “Well…you were too late,” I murmured.

  “Pardon my interference,” came the voice of the old man. I looked up at him for the first time. He and his wife stood just in front of a pair of camels—they were dressed like the peasants I had seen from the fields outside of Casim: he wore a turban that sat low on his forehead and a loose robe, and she wore a loose dress with a belt, and had long, gray, braided hair. Both of them looked sun-beaten and wizened, and they had smile lines around their sparkling, attentive eyes. However, the looks on their faces now were sad, stunned. I turned to the old man, who took a step closer and spoke with a thick Badi accent.

  “Why would the king wish to kill his daughter-in-law?”

  “Because he thought I was an assassin,” I sighed. My voice lowered to almost nothing. “And I was.”

  Everyone went still. The old man and woman looked at each other. I closed my eyes.

  “I was in the beginning. But then I learned that Rajak’s heart is different from his father’s. He is…was…” I sucked in a breath, for pain had stabbed through my whole chest. I held his hand tighter. “He and I realized that the prophecy did not mean what everyone thought.”

  Aedus knelt down on the other side of Rajak, his eyes burning into me.

  “What does it mean, then?”

  I swallowed hard. Nausea was rising in my stomach, and I felt hollow and light-headed. I did not want to speak any more—I wanted them all to leave me alone so I could throw of the shroud, lay my head on Rajak’s chest and sob again. But my sister’s arm tightened around my shoulders, and Aedus waited like a crouched lion. And so I took another breath.

  “It is not about King Akhtar, or raising a king from the dead,” I said. “It is about the Chamber of the Kings, and the Stone of Inheritance.”

  Both of the old peoples’ eyes went wide. Aedus stared at me. William finally came around so I could see him, standing between the old man and Aedus, and frowned.

  “What is that?”

  “It is where the king of the Badi went for his coronation, long ago,” the old man said breathlessly, never taking his eyes off me. “But it has been lost for a thousand years—bricked up by the evil king before Akhtar.”

  “How do you know that’s what it is about?” Aedus pressed. I closed my eyes again. Why could they not just let me be…?

  “Because I found the chamber,” I said.

  The old woman sank to her knees at Rajak’s head. The old man put a hand over his mouth.

  “What was in this chamber?” Aedus asked. The wind entered the canyon, and rustled through the tent, and my hair.

  “Blue light, and water falling into a great, lit pool,” I whispered. “There were statues of kings all along the walls, and a beautiful mosaic on the floor.”

  “How did you find it?” the old woman gasped.

  “Aedus locked me up in the back of the harem,” I shot him a glare carrying as much poison as I could muster. “There were bars there, and a gate. It was the prison wall that the prophecy had spoken of. And there on the wall, behind plaster, was the other half of the prophecy.”

  “What did it say?” the old man breathed. I closed my eyes again.

  “Only dust comes forth from mines

  And conquest brings but strife

  Tis truth that makes his kingdom shine

  And love that gives him life.”

  “That is not a prophecy.”

  I opened my eyes. The old woman had straightened.

  “What?” I said, muddled. She glanced at her husband, and he shared the same expression. She looked back to me.

  “You do not know?”

  “Know what?” my sister demanded.

  “I do,” Hashim said, and I heard him come up behind me. “It sounds familiar, like an old story…”

  The old woman was nodding.

  “It is from the tale of the White Princess.”

  Aeleth sat up.

  “What is that?”

  The old woman looked to her husband again.

  “Are you certain you wish to hear it now—”

  “Yes,” Aedus insisted. She took a breath.

  “Long ago, the Badi had a king who valued jewels and conquest most of all. He was not wicked, but ambitious. So much that he violated a treaty made with the White Princess—the Lady of Truth. She came from the forests far away to force him to stop. It was said that he was thunder, and she was lightning—their quarrels were so fierce. But then another enemy rose up, one greater than both of them. They had to band together to defeat it. And they became friends, and then fell in love. They defeated the enemy. But then one of the king’s advisors poisoned him.”

  My gut turned, but I could not look away from her. She went on.

  “The king died. The Badi were ready to bury him with his fathers. But the White Princess would not let them. Her people believed that the waters deep beneath the earth could give life to a dead man—if the dead man was beloved enough.”

  “What happened?” William asked.

  “They broke through a wall and made chamber with great haste, and tapped into the waters of the deep,” the old woman said. “They laid the king in the water, and the White Princess touched his forehead. And he rose up from the water, alive—and he bore a blue diamond on his brow where she had touched him. They married, and made new vows—vows honoring the power of the love that had brought him back to life. Even now, the wedding hall in Nazre bears their likenesses, and the vows bear their names: Harith and Kanta.”

  I stared at her, unable to move or breathe.

  “That aligns with the riddle she found,” Aedus said. “But what of the other one?”

  “First son of the third son

  After three corners fall

  From death shall rise the shining one

  Behind the prison wall,” Hashim reminded us in a low voice. Hashim came around, slowly, and knelt beside Rajak, just beside me. He lifted the shroud off of his face and gazed at him.

  “It is about raising a king from the dead.”

  I jerked. Everyone gasped—Aedus leaned toward him, intense.

  “What do you mean?”

  Hashim looked at Aedus.

  “Rajak is the first son of a third son—Niro killed his two older brothers. The three other kingdoms have already fallen, thanks to Niro’s conquest. The Chamber of Inheritance—where Harith was brought back from the dead—was hidden behind a punishment cell in the harem that the evil king before Akhtar built.” Hashim took a deep breath, and returned his gaze to Rajak’s face. “Rajak’s mother named him after her father. His name means ‘radiant prince.’”

  “Radiant prince…” I whispered. Hashim looked at me.

  “The Shining One.”

  I stood up. My head reeled, but my blood rushed through my limbs. Everyone’s head came up to stare at me.

  “Let’s go,” I gasped. “Pick him up—we will take him there and—”

  “Linnet,” Aeleth stood up and took my arm. “It is only a story—”

  “No it isn’t!” I raged, flinging her off. “Every other part of the prophecy came true—don’t you see that?”

  “Princess, Niro could control the first part of the prophecy,” Aedus said, rising up to face me. I jabbed a finger at him.

  “No he could not. No matter what he did, he could not guarantee himself a son. He could have had two hundred daughters for all he knew. And yet he bore a son with a woman who named him ‘radiant.’ Niro did not think his son would be the Shining One—he thought it was Akhtar! But that is Rajak’s name!” The hope that pounded through my veins was almost toxic—I could barely breathe enough to keep speaking. But I would not let it go. Not when there was even the slightest possibility…

  Hashim arose. I braced myself. I was prepared to lift Rajak’s body and carry him myself, but if Hashim barred the way back into Nazre because I had confessed I was an assassin, and knew that I had already killed Niro…

  “It must be tried,” he said. I blinked.

&n
bsp; “Hashim…?” I choked. He nodded.

  “That is, if you command it. For Niro is dead, and Rajak is dead…and you are the queen of Nazre.”

  More tears fell. I swiped them away.

  “Very well,” I said, my voice rough. “Get him ready.”

  “Princess?” Aedus turned to Aeleth. She gazed at me, sad, but nodded.

  “Do as she says.”

  LLL

  I gazed at the sight before me, my head spinning, numb with both disbelief and resolution. Rajak, dressed in white linen trousers and tunic that the old man had been carrying, lay on a litter made from the tent that had just covered us. A shroud hid his face. The old woman had taken out the arrow, and cleaned his wound.

  Now, Hashim led the procession, bearing Rajak’s head, and William bore his feet. I walked beside Rajak, his hand still in mine. My sister, her arm around my waist, kept pace with me. Behind us, silent, strode the rest of the Bràithrean, the old man and woman, and their camels. Two of the Bràithrean were absent—they had been sent to ride and bring my mother to Nazre.

  We walked quickly, saying nothing, climbing our way back up the Winding Way to the entrance to the canyon. Sun broke over us, and warm wind. I sensed Aeleth cast her gaze around at the desert.

  “I still do not understand how anyone can live here,” she murmured.

  “You have not seen Nazre,” I whispered. We trekked up toward the stable door, which had been left open. The slaves who had let us out sent up a shout, and ran out to meet us, babbling in Badi to Hashim and pointing back at Hashim’s horse and Al-Hadiye who waited inside. Hashim answered them quietly, but with firmness in his voice. We trailed inside, between the aisles of stalls, and Aeleth let out a low, impressed breath as she glanced around.

  We left the stables, the distraught slaves now joining our procession. The old man and woman tied their camels and kept up with us.

  The shadows of the corridors chilled my bones. I swallowed hard, praying with all my might, and clutched Rajak’s hand ever tighter.

  Hashim glanced back at me, then down at Rajak’s shrouded face.

  “We must avoid speaking to anyone else,” he murmured. “I am sure they have realized Niro is dead—if they hear Rajak is dead too, everyone will panic.”

  I only nodded. Aeleth walked closer to me as we wound through the halls, eyeing each torch we passed.

  And then we approached my room. I was about to point it out to Aeleth when the door opened, and Ayah came out.

  She froze. The box of bandages she held fell to the floor. She lifted a shaking finger to the litter.

  “Who…?” she gasped.

  “Rajak, Ayah,” Hashim sighed, his footsteps slowing. Ayah covered her mouth with her hands and shrieked. The sound tore through me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears ran down my face and Aeleth held me tighter. My hearing blurred again—I heard Hashim telling Ayah, through her hysterics, what we planned to do. The old man and woman accompanying us hurried to her and spoke in Badi, probably telling her about the White Princess. This seemed to calm her, and she came up on Rajak’s other side and clasped his right hand. Her old face streaked with tears, and her eyes fixed on the outline of his face beneath the cloth. After William and Hashim adjusted their grip on the litter, we kept walking.

  We entered the harem, trailed down the paths, and passed the fountain—the fountain that did not appear to be smiling anymore, but looked bowed beneath the water that ran down her head and back.

  I pointed to the little door that led to the back of the harem. We left the garden and entered the corridor. Aeleth’s eyes traced the hieroglyphs lit by the torches. Hashim and William carefully bore Rajak down a small flight of stairs, and then we came to the gate. I stepped forward and opened it. The men ducked, and carried him through. Ayah, Aeleth and I followed, then came the old man, woman, and the slaves. They all stopped to stare at the inscription I had uncovered, and the picture of the man and the woman—the two who had to be Harith and Kanta. And then their gazes turned to the half-open door.

  “How did you open this?” Aedus asked.

  “There is a slot there, between their hands,” I pointed. “It opened with my wedding ring.”

  The old man and woman exchanged a glance—a warm, knowing one. It lit me with hope.

  Aedus stepped forward and pulled on the sliding door. With a deep, stony groan, it gave way beneath his strength, and opened all the way. Musty air rushed out to greet us, as did the sound of tumbling water. We squinted, hesitating on the threshold, and then all of us stepped inside.

  The ceiling was so high I could not tell where it ended—but the sun filtered through what had to be blue glass, for all the light within glowed soft sapphire. All around stood great white statues of Badi kings, bearing swords and shields and peaceful expressions. And right in the center of the room was a circular pool not three feet deep. The blue light shone down full on it, so the surface glittered. Beyond, a little aqueduct brought water tumbling into the pool.

  “What do we do?” I whispered.

  “What Kanta did,” Ayah, said, her lip trembling. “Put him in the water.”

  William gave me a sympathetic look. I rejected it. Hashim and William brought the litter over to the edge of the water, and set it on the low wall.

  “Please get back,” I said to Hashim and William. I came up to Rajak’s left and took off the shroud. I gazed at him long, then bent my head and rested my forehead on the bridge of his nose.

  “Please,” I whispered. “Please…”

  I glanced up. Aeleth stood closest, tears running down her face.

  “Will you help me?” I asked. She nodded fiercely, wiped away her tears, and came up. I stepped into the water. I turned and slid my hands underneath Rajak’s arms and picked him up. Aeleth came around and lifted his feet. I backed up, further into the pool, and Aeleth stepped in as well. We looked at each other. I took a deep breath. Then, we bent our knees and lowered him down into the water. For a moment, I held his head above the surface—it felt wrong to let him go beneath. The water rushed around me, welcoming and warm, as if whispering to me. Aeleth stood up and backed out of the pool. I just sat there, water up to my shoulders, holding him up. I lifted my eyes to Hashim, to Aedus, William and Aeleth and Ayah—and then to the old man and woman. They stood together, his arm around her. And they were smiling, as if they knew something. The old woman nodded to me. And I let him go.

  His head dipped below the surface and he sank. I stood up. Water dripped off me. I stared at him beneath the rippling, sparkling water, choking back a sob, silencing a scream of desperation. I backed away from him—but it felt as if my heart was tearing in half.

  I dove down onto my knees, sending water crashing, and pulled him up again. Tears racing down my cheeks, mingling with the splashed water, I pressed a kiss to his cold, wet forehead, closed my eyes and gasped:

  “I love you so. Please, please do not leave me.”

  For a moment, I just held him. Then, the water began to swirl and rush around me.

  I jerked up, and let go of him. He fell down beneath the surface. The water covered him, and then frothed and bubbled like it was boiling. I threw myself backward, my heart hammering.

  Water gushed from the aqueduct, overflowing and spilling into the pool with rapid force. The water itself lit from beneath—a bluish, silver glow. The water hissed and shimmered and stirred itself around and around, spraying Hashim and Aeleth. I jumped out of the pool and clasped my throat with both hands. The sapphire light pierced, illuminating the water like a blue fire.

  A great cold wind barreled through the chamber, swirling and whirling, catching the water up and spinning it until it looked like a towering, glittering, racing whirlpool turned on its head. My dress and hair whipped like I was in a storm, and thrills ran up and down my spine.

  And then the water split, and a great flash of light blasted my eyes. Thunder hammered through the room. I ducked, and shielded my eyes. And then I lifted my head and looked back.

/>   A man stood in the center of the pool. Water gushed off of him, pouring from his head and shoulders. Blue-white light blazed against the white of his clothes.

  He lifted his head. His lips parted and he took a deep breath. And he opened his eyes.

  Brilliant black eyes, like endless midnight filled with stars, met mine. And a stunning, shining blue diamond sparkled just above his right eyebrow. He blinked. Drops of water fell from his long lashes.

  “Linnet?” he said.

  I flew to him. I plunged knee-deep into the fountain and flung my arms around his neck, taking fistfuls of his wet shirt, hearing his heart beat beneath mine, feeling his warmth beneath my fingers.

  I was laughing before I knew it, and more tears—warm ones—spilled down my face. His arms pulled me in tight, and he buried his face in my shoulder. I leaned back and took his face in my hands.

  “I can’t believe it,” I gasped, running my hands over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his lips. He grinned beneath my fingertips, never looking away from me.

  “It worked!” I cried. “It was the legend—the White Princess and the riddle—it was true, and you never—”

  He did not let me finish. He bent and closed his lips over mine, and lifted me off the ground. I ran my hands through his hair and wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back with all my might.

  “Linnet,” he breathed when our lips broke apart.

  “Rajak, I must tell you—”

  “Tora dost daram.”

  “I love you,” I said at the same time. I blinked, my nose an inch from his. I canted my head.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. His eyes traced all my features, and he smiled again.

  “It means what you said.”

  I let out another ringing laugh, but he interrupted it again with a deep kiss, wiping my mind clean of every thought.

  And that moment, the water that swirled around our knees turned cold. I jerked and glanced down. Rajak followed my gaze.

  “It’s cold!” I yelped.

  “Yes, it is the Gathering—remember?” he prompted me. I gave him an incredulous look.