Crownless

by M H Woodscourt

  “Here, Jetekesh. Behold.”

  He looked past Jinji and saw light. Golden. Radiant.

  Jinji pulled him free of the constrictive trees. He found himself standing in a glade surrounded by tall redwoods outlined by molten light. The forest floor was clear of underbrush, and the trees stood wide apart. The air was wet with recent rain.

  Jinji’s eyes glistened with dancing shadows from the swaying sunlight. “We are in the fae lands, Jetekesh. Look.” He pointed, and Jetekesh spotted a wide path wending through the tall trees. Strange blue lights flickered along the pathway. “Fairy lights,” the storyteller whispered in awe.

  “You are quite at home,” said Aredel behind Jetekesh. The young prince whirled, heart bounding into his throat. He scowled at the Blood Prince. Aredel didn’t seem to notice. His eyes darted around the glade, just as Sir Chethal and Sir Blayse stepped from the channel of trees, eyes wide and mouths open.

  “An elder path,” whispered the younger knight. Sir Chethal hushed him with a look.

  Prince Sharo appeared from the column of trees last, leading Amaranth, Ashea on his shoulder. “This path only appears under certain rays of sunlight. If we hurry, we will catch the path to Lord Peresen’s fortress and arrive by nightfall.”

  “Fleetly, friends, or we shall lose the light,” said the high voice of Ashea.

  Sharo nodded toward the fairy-lit path beyond Jinji. “Go ahead, storyteller.”

  Jinji moved at once, a spring in his step. Jetekesh followed. As the company stepped onto the pathway, a tingle trotted up his spine. Eyes watched from some hidden place. He glanced back but saw no one.

  “They are watchful,” murmured Jinji. “Come along.”

  Jetekesh obeyed. The pathway bent north, and soon the glade vanished behind them. Mist crept in from the tall trees, shrouding the pathway but for the fairy lights. Jinji pressed on, and Jetekesh stayed as close as he could. No one spoke. They barely breathed.

  Was that music? Jetekesh paused and tipped his ear to listen.

  Jinji tugged on his sleeve. “Do not stray. Do not heed the call.”

  Jetekesh tripped along, and the music faded away, though the melody haunted the back of his mind. What was the call? He didn’t dare ask. Not yet, not here.

  The company carried on for several hours before Sharo slipped past Jetekesh and Jinji to take the lead. “We should rest a moment.” He sighed and ran his arm across his face. “We barely made it, but we managed somehow. The fae paths are fickle and fleeting for humans, but we were granted passage.”

  Sharo caught Jetekesh’s questioning look and smiled. “Of myself, I am allowed to use the paths we’ve taken, but in company the fae do not wish it, unless my need is dire. Today it is, and so I was allowed to cross land by a swifter course than any human road. But as I said, the paths are ever changing. We might have become lost in a land unwelcome to humans, and that would prove ill for all save myself, the lady Ashea, and Master Jinji. It is fortunate that our timing and plight were as they are.”

  He hesitated. “Though I’d rather we had no plight so great as this to warrant the risk.” He whistled, and Amaranth trotted forward. Sharo swung onto his bare back. “I shall go ahead and scout a bit. I will return in time for nightfall. Do not stray into the woods, else you shall be claimed by a more mischievous fae.” He winked at Jetekesh. “They should like you best. Keep close to Jinji.”

  Alarm sprinted through Jetekesh. He looked at Jinji. “Why me?”

  Jinji laughed. “You are young, fair, bold, and temperamental. All these things attract trouble in fae woods. That music you heard was an invitation, but it would have ended badly for you.”

  Jetekesh’s eyes widened. “Are the fae dangerous?”

  The mirth fell from Jinji’s face. “Very dangerous, Your Highness. Do not think fae are all gentleness and wisdom. Some are dark. Even wicked. Most such things do not dwell in the elder woods, but some may pass through. Others mean no harm to humans, but their play is too much for a mortal man to handle.”

  Jetekesh shuddered. “I thought we were safe here. Sharo said—”

  “Sharo meant what he said. Stay near to me and you shall remain safe.” Jinji lowered himself to the forest floor and leaned against a tree. “Sit, Your Highness. We should rest, as Sharo said. It shall be a long and perilous night.”

  Jetekesh knelt and leaned against the trunk. His eyes strayed heavenward. “What good will I be in a siege against a fortress?”

  Jinji didn’t answer. Jetekesh glanced at him and found the storyteller’s eyes closed. His breathing was deep, but troubled. Jetekesh frowned. Danger lay ahead, and Jinji was so frail. Would he last the quest?

  Would Jetekesh lose his only devoted friend so soon?

  It wasn’t fair.

  He shut his eyes and tried not to think. It only made him angry and afraid.

  29

  The Snake

  The caravan remained halted until half past eleven in the morning. Three hours into the day’s march, Prince Anadin called another halt and commanded camp be set up for the night.

  The servants who had attended him from KryTeer carried out his orders in stride, accustomed to his antics. The servants from Keep Falcon grumbled, but very softly. By four o’clock in the afternoon, Yeshton found he and his companions seated in the second prince’s tent, partaking of a foreign meal and entertainment. Prince Anadin applauded the dancers and singers that appeared before his table in turns.

  The meal stretched on until the sun began to set. A haze settled over Yeshton’s mind, but he tried to press it down and stay alert. He had explained the prince’s proposal to Rille this morning. Her response had been a single nod, which alarmed Yeshton, though he knew as well as she did there was no choice but to adhere to the prince’s request.

  Now, as the rays of a red sunset crept into the tent, Prince Anadin clapped his hands, halting the music of a wild dance. The dancers faltered, bowed, and backed away, while the musicians lowered their instruments and slipped into the shadows of the tent.

  Prince Anadin rose. “Come, Sahala. Join me outside.”

  Rille stood, smoothed her coarse dress, and walked with the prince to the open flap of the tent. Yeshton stared after them, a lump swelling in his throat. His hand felt for a sword he didn’t possess.

  Sir Palan offered him a pitying smile. “Easy, lad. Take a breath and wait for now.”

  Yeshton bowed his head and let out a long breath. “She’s a capable girl. I must trust her.”

  King Jetekesh pushed to his feet. “So you should. She’s nothing short of clever. Come along. I suspect we are free to return to our own tent.”

  Tifen climbed to his feet and followed the king outside, where a guard waited to guide them back to the prison tent.

  Yeshton hesitated. “I think I’ll remain here a while.”

  Sir Palan nodded. “As you should. I’ll go on ahead.” He downed the last of his wine, then prowled outside.

  Yeshton watched servants clear away the food, while a tightness grew in his chest. She would be fine. She must be fine. He would destroy Prince Anadin if anything happened to her.

  The evening breeze caressed Rille’s face. She welcomed the cool sensation, for her nerves were taut and sweat stuck to her dress. She took care to keep her expression unperturbed as she followed the second prince of KryTeer across his large encampment to a stand of leafless trees jutting like naked bones against the red sky.

  Prince Anadin traipsed over the roots of one tree, caught its trunk, and swung himself around it until he faced Rille. He leaned his cheek against the trunk, black eyes intent upon her. She halted under that gaze and said nothing.

  “You’re the sorriest looking child I’ve ever seen. Forlorn as death,” he remarked as though he spoke of a pleasant day.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “It is.”

  They considered each other for a long moment.

  “What do you think of me?” he asked.


  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Come now. Something must come to mind.”

  She hesitated a heartbeat. “Odd.”

  A smile crept over his lips. “Oh? Well.” He pulled himself behind the thin tree trunk, back facing her, and raised his head skyward. “I’m glad of your honesty. Thank you for being blunt.”

  “Will you be blunt in return?”

  He turned his head to view her from the corner of one eye. “In what regard?”

  “Tell me what you want with me.”

  A smile caught the corner of his mouth. He gripped the tree trunk and swung back around to face her. “I am told you are special.”

  Rille shrugged. “And so?”

  “I was often told I was special too. I’ve come to realize that word is very dangerous.” He sighed. “You’ve had a trying life, I quite imagine.”

  “Do you?”

  Prince Anadin’s shoulders slouched. He flopped to the ground and folded his legs before him to rest his palms against his knees. His smile was friendly and patient. “Do not be so cold, Sahala. Can we not set aside the animosity of our two peoples for one conversation?”

  She folded her arms. “Give me a reason to do so. A good one. Not mere whimsy.”

  He bowed his head and chuckled. “A good one, hmm?” He lifted his head. His eyes held vivid pain. When he spoke, his voice choked with emotion. “I am afraid, Sahala. I need your help.”

  She took a step back, and her hands dropped to her sides. “I…don’t understand.”

  He shrugged and laughed without humor. “How could you? We are both special, but your parents cared for you, did they not?”

  She nodded.

  He lifted a hand in a helpless shrug. “My father cares only for himself. That he finds me useful keeps me alive, yet the cost is unbearable to me.” His brow furrowed. “At least, I think it is.”

  “Explain,” said Rille as a headache throbbed against her temples. “You make little sense.”

  The second prince of KryTeer blew out a breath that stirred the long, dark hair around his angular face. Against the growing shadows of evening he looked small and very, very young, like a child trapped in a man’s body. Prince Anadin leapt to his feet and began to pace, hands cupped behind his back. His black robes dragged across the dirt, but he paid them no heed.

  “I am being poisoned, Sahala.” His voice hung low and thick.

  She blinked. “Poisoned, Your Highness?”

  He didn’t pause to look at her but kept pacing back and forth. “Behind you, near the flap of my tent, you can see a man, tall and stately in his priestly robes. That is Javanti, my personal guardian priest. He oversees the state of my soul.”

  Rille resisted an urge to look toward the tent. She would find the man later. “Is he the one you believe to be poisoning you?”

  “It is more than mere belief. I know it as surely as I know my own name.”

  “You said your father finds you useful, so he is not aware of this poisoning?”

  “Oh, he is.” The prince ran a hand over his face. “It is not a fatal poisoning. It is…to another purpose. I must remain alive, you see.”

  “Why?”

  He exhaled. “I must kill my elder brother.”

  She frowned. “I still don’t follow.”

  “I am being driven insane.” He spat the words out. “There. I said it. It’s said. It’s fact. I cannot escape it any longer. Each time I go to the priest to pray and cleanse my spirit, each time I am enveloped by the scent of incense until my mind wanders whithersoever it will. When I come to myself, I am told I’ve had a fit and have been taken to my own bed. This has gone on for years, and while I have no distinct memory of what occurs when I’ve been drugged, yet I know the purpose. Stray words and sensations well up now and then, and I know my father’s fear. My elder brother is dear to me, and I to him. Our holy father wants Aredel dead, and I am the only one who may come close enough to do the deed. As I am, as I think freely, I would never go through with it. But Javanti is here to see it through. Even now he urges me not to return to KryTeer, but to wait for Aredel’s return from Shinac. The emperor will not abide my failure. If I do not succeed, if I return empty-handed, I will be gotten rid of. This I know in my heart.”

  He pressed his fist over his chest. “I want to return to KryTeer instead. Let my life end now, before I can harm Aredel. I do not think I can kill him, even should some other piece of me awaken to try. Aredel is strong. Stronger than any other. I will fail, and I would rather die now as a traitor to KryTeer than as a traitor to my brother. I have no love for my country. My people. My father. Let them all rot; it matters little to me. Now or later, I will die. When Emperor Gyath’s life runs its course, his harem, his servants, and his spare shall all meet our end anyway. I just wish Aredel to be the one to destroy my father and let his reign of terror end. That would be justice, yes! Ah yes.” He laughed.

  Rille studied the panic scrawled across his face. Her throat tightened. She caught his arm. He started and looked down at her, and she tried a smile, though it trembled on her lips.

  “Be calm, unfortunate prince. If your brother cares for you as you say, he will soon return, and he shall not let you perish.” The smile grew easier to wear as she studied the lonely black eyes in the narrow face. She reached up and ran her hand along his cheek. “Fear has long consumed you, Anadin. Let it out with a breath, and inhale only the calm of a setting sun. In this moment, you are safe.”

  Tears welled in his eyes. He pulled back. Cleared his throat and turned toward the naked trees. “Is this your gift? Do you see what you speak?”

  “No. I only feel it. But your brother is with Jinji, and none knows better than he what ought to be done. All will be well.”

  “For some, perhaps.”

  Rille tentatively reached out and caught his billowing sleeve. “You believe there is hope, or you would not ask for my aid. How can I help you, Anadin?”

  “I, I don’t know. I had hoped you could tell me my course. Tell me what might revise my fate. I don’t want to die…” He turned to her. “What can be done?”

  Her smile grew. “Come with us, Anadin. Run away with my friends and me. Do not return to KryTeer. Hide in Amantier until your brother returns, and we shall fight your father, all of us together.”

  He blinked. A single tear wended down his cheek. “Run away? Could I?”

  “And why not?”

  The prince shuddered. “Oh, no. Father’s magicians would know. They would find me.”

  “You’re afraid.”

  His nod was fervent. “Oh, yes. Terribly afraid. I cannot escape my fate.” His eyes lost their focus.

  Rille caught each arm and shook him hard, until he blinked and stared down into her face. “Listen to me,” she said. “You will let us go. You will come with us. We will hide until the Blood Prince returns, and then we shall do something to end your father’s reign. We must. For your sake, for mine, for everyone’s. Do this thing, Anadin. It is hard, and frightening, and perhaps it will end badly. But if your fate is already set, if death is your path, take the more meaningful way to meet it.”

  Anadin’s eyes slid up from her face, widening. “Javanti is coming. We must not speak further. I, I will consider your words.”

  “Tonight, Anadin. We must act tonight, or we cannot possibly escape.”

  He nodded and wrenched free. At once a smile flitted to his lips. “Ah, Javanti. Do you see my little sparrow? I call her Sahala. I think I will take her home as a pet.”

  “That is wonderful, my prince,” said a deep, cold voice.

  Rille turned and found herself staring up at a snake in men’s clothes. The priest was a plain man, in ornate robes twice as fine as Anadin’s apparel. Javanti was tall, reed-thin, bald, and ornamented in jewels that flashed like blood against the last rays of the day.

  Rille curtsied. “Shall I return to my companions?” she asked in a sweet voice.

  “Certainly. Goodbye, little sparrow,” said Ana
din, waving a hand.

  She traipsed back to the tent as airily as she could manage, careful to keep her smile in place until she slipped inside. Yeshton stood waiting. She scurried to him and caught his hand. He held hers tight. Neither spoke as he led her to the prison tent where the others dozed.

  “How did it go, my lady?” asked Yeshton once they were inside.

  Rille leaned against his shoulder and found herself trembling. “We must help that man, Sir Knight. He is a very sorry prince. If we do not save him, he will be eaten up.”

  30

  Within the Fortress

  “Here. Take it.”

  The curved dagger gleamed in the moonlight. Jetekesh grasped it, breathless, heart pounding. Its hilt sparkled with bloodred jewels. He looked up at Aredel. “Thank you.”

  “Use it well, and stay alive,” said the Blood Prince. “That is my price.” He rose from his crouch.

  Jetekesh tracked the man as Aredel joined Jinji and Sharo beneath a tree beyond his hearing. The three conversed softly, Sharo’s brow drawn; Jinji’s jaw set; Aredel, hooded in secret thoughts.

  Sir Chethal stirred beneath a tree nearby and shook his companion. Sir Blayse moaned and blinked sleep away.

  “Where are we?” asked the younger knight.

  Sir Chethal shook his head. “Somewhere on the elder path, remember?”

  The fog cleared from Sir Blayse’s face. “Ah, yes. We travel with the horseman and his fellows. And that pretty little fairy.”

  Sir Chethal nodded. “Yes, so I recall.”

  The younger knight pushed to his feet and checked his armor and sword. “Shouldn’t we be heading off to pursue our own quest soon, Sir Chethal? We’ve delayed long, I fear.”

  Chethal sighed. “If only we could recall what that quest is. T’would help.”

  Jetekesh opened his mouth to tell them Prince Sharo was the very man they sought. That there was no cause to wander off. But he stopped himself. Sharo would’ve told them already if it would lift the curse. They must choose to serve him on their own, or never regain what they’ve lost. He sighed and used the trunk to hoist himself to his feet. He brushed the dirt and leaves from his clothes and moved toward the three men in counsel.