by Neha Yazmin
“I’m used to it.” She shrugged.
Wyett nodded. “You must have had your fair share of injuries back in Adgar.”
“I got more than my fair share during my final duel,” she blurted out as he piled up several pieces of muslin and folded them into a thick square. “I was poisoned with nasha by my opponent beforehand. I couldn’t defend or attack or duck. He kept hitting me with his flail and the wounds I suffered were the worst of my life.”
The Prince had paused, listening intently. He winced when she added, “I could see my bones through the deepest gash…”
“Did he get punished for drugging you?” Wyett asked, barely moving his lips.
She looked at his hands. The folded layers of fabric were no longer square-shaped. He was squeezing them tightly in his fist.
“Yes,” Aaryana whispered. “He got punished quite severely.”
“Good.”
Their eyes locked for a long moment. Eventually, Wyett re-folded the cloths and held them to her cleaned cut to form padding over it before re-wrapping her throat with a long strip of cotton.
“I’ll just go and wash my hands,” he said when he was done.
Aaryana stood up at the same time as he did. “Take your time, Your Highness,” she said quickly. “I should get to my rooms. It’s very late.”
Wyett nodded and allowed her to step away.
“Thank you for this,” she said when she reached his front door, touching the dressing around her throat. “I could have taken care of it myself. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble of—”
“It’s no trouble,” he murmured. He was at the threshold of the narrow corridor that led to his bedroom. “It’s the least I could do.”
She bowed her head in thanks. Then, she remembered to ask, “What are you going to do about Rozlene and Erisa?”
Wyett’s face hardened. His green eyes narrowed. “I’ll deal with it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Leave it with me.”
Wyett’s way of dealing with Rozlene and her daughter was to invite them to take a stroll with him. After breakfast on Sunday, Wyett had taken Rozlene for a walk around the castle grounds; he asked Erisa to walk with him after lunch. Whatever he’d said to them couldn’t be garnered from the expressions on the women’s faces during dinner that night.
Aaryana had hoped to get an update from the Prince after dinner, but of course, she was disappointed. He didn’t take anyone on a walk in the evening. The King cancelled their late-night meeting, too, owing to tiredness. She suspected that he was feeling guilty and didn’t want to face Wyett in private. If he hadn’t gone to Moon Lake, the rebels wouldn’t have hurt the people that they did when they were trying to get to him.
Yes, there hadn’t been any fatalities, but guards and civilians had been injured to varying degrees during the riot.
The rebels had clearly expected the King to attend the ceremony and planned their attack accordingly. No one at Court could be accused of betraying the King to his nephew; he hadn’t told anyone apart from Wyett that he’d be at Moon Lake. His bodyguards only found out when he got on his warhorse just as everyone was about to leave the castle grounds.
Aaryana hadn’t been able to get much sleep on Saturday or Sunday night, and had concealed several weapons around her bed, in case Rozlene came to finish her off. When she exited her rooms on Monday morning to go to breakfast, she found two extra guards posted outside her front door. The new guards stayed put whilst the two that had been guarding her chambers from the beginning started following her as she headed towards the dining hall.
She couldn’t help but be reminded of the day she’d been arrested, all those guards surrounding her…
“Is there something wrong, gentlemen?” Aaryana asked them, halting a few paces away from her quarters.
“We’ve been assigned as your personal guards, my Lady,” the broader one of the two broad-shouldered men replied.
Her eyes widened. “Assigned? By whom?”
“The Crown Prince, my Lady.”
“What? Why?” Aaryana folded her arms across her chest.
“After the rebel attack at Moon Lake, he feels it wise that you—”
“He feels! We’ll see about that!”
She wouldn’t have stalked to Wyett’s chambers if the memory of her arrest hadn’t put her on edge. And that was how she found herself colliding violently with a hard body as she rounded the last corner before Wyett’s quarters. She bounced back several steps before finding her footing.
“Watch where you’re going!” Wyett.
She had bumped into his hard body. The body she’d danced with the night before last. It hadn’t felt so hard then… it had felt warm and comfortable...
“Oh, it’s you,” he murmured, sounding less indignant. “What—”
“Yes, it’s me. With my two new bodyguards,” she seethed, gesturing wildly at the guards behind her.
Wyett himself had his guards waiting behind him.
“Assigned by you. Does His Majesty know that you’ve—”
“Shall we discuss this more calmly?” Wyett asked pointedly, his tone still devoid of hostility. “And in private?”
He spun on the spot, walked through the group of guards that had been following him, and approached the men standing outside his chambers. When they opened the door, he waited for Aaryana to enter his apartment.
“Stay,” he ordered his guards as he walked inside and shut the door behind him.
Aaryana’s anger left her all of a sudden, recalling the last time they’d been alone together, how gently he’d taken care of her wound. And before that, when they’d danced together during the finding ceremony. Even though others were around, the utter darkness made it feel like it was just the two of them in the entire world.
As luck would have it, the Crown Prince wasn’t reminiscing about the night of the festival. He came and grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the door. She gasped in shock but couldn’t speak.
Wyett brought his face within an inch of hers and hissed, “How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you question my authority?”
Aaryana swallowed, unable to find words. His grip on her arms was too tight, his face was too close, his breath was bouncing off her skin, and though she knew she could free herself, it felt as though she’d forgotten for the time being. Wyett seemed to realise that she was feeling bad about her outburst. The fury was draining from his voice.
Still, he didn’t let go of her as he explained, “Father doesn’t know that I’ve assigned you bodyguards, and when he finds out, he won’t oppose. Even though he doesn’t know what happened with Rozlene on Saturday night.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“In fact, I don’t know why Father didn’t give you guards when he asked you to join his Court.” He seemed surprised that he hadn’t given this any thought before now.
Something about this conversation felt peculiar. Or was it the fact that his actions were contradicting his words? His body was in an attacking position—keeping her pushed up against the door—while he was speaking in friendly tones.
“But it makes sense for you to have the extra security now,” he said with a nod. “Rozlene and Erisa have sworn that they won’t try to hurt you again, if you keep their secret. Well, they’d be mad to try. If anything happens to you, they know I’ll suspect them.”
“Why aren’t you…” She didn’t know how to finish her question.
Wyett did. “Why am I not telling Father? Because he’d throw them in the dungeons for what they tried to do to you, and people would eventually figure out the truth about Erisa.” He sighed heavily. His breath tickled her face. “I know Erisa and I don’t get along anymore, but she doesn’t deserve to… Are you upset that they’re getting away with what they tried to do to you?”
“I’m honoured that you care what I think, Your Highness.” She hadn’t expected him to care at all. “I wouldn’t have told the King about their plan to kill me, either, or anyone
,” she confessed. “So, I can’t blame you…”
“Besides, you had the situation under control, didn’t you?” he teased, a crooked smile materialising on his mouth. “You would’ve been fine without me.”
“That’s right,” she laughed.
“Except for the arrow that would’ve been buried in your chest.” He cocked an eyebrow, still making fun of her.
“Well, if you hadn’t waited so long to show yourself, I wouldn’t have had to make up the lie about entrusting you with a letter that accused Erisa of being my killer.” She shook her head in disapproval, though there was a smile on her lips.
“Rozlene snapped when you brought Erisa into it. She wanted to kill you for even thinking about doing that to her daughter.”
“But you said that she’d never fired her arrow…?”
Wyett’s fingers dug into the flesh of her arms, his face paling. “She didn’t fire,” he said just as he’d said on the night. He brought his face even closer to hers, the tips of their noses touching, and whispered, “I would have died if she shot you.”
Aaryana swallowed. “Really?” she whispered even quieter. Her heart started racing.
“Yes. Seth would have killed me for not stepping in on time, and I would have died.” And he burst into laughter.
It would have made her jump if he wasn’t holding her so firmly against the door. When he stopped laughing and looked at her unimpressed face, he laughed for a few moments more. Then, he had the audacity to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing again.
Aaryana took her face close to his now, their noses almost touching. “Do you know, Your Highness,” she said in a silky-smooth voice, “that you’re still pressed up me against me?”
Wyett’s eyes widened at her words and his hands fell away immediately.
“My apologies,” he said, turning his back to her. “I didn’t realise.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” In other words: You may leave.
“See you at breakfast.”
Yet, she returned to her chambers and asked Jeena to bring her some bread and tea to her bedroom. She stayed in her rooms for the remainder of the day, eating her lunch and dinner in her lounge, too. Let Wyett make of her absence from Court what he will.
Malin was covered in sweat when she woke up on Tuesday morning. Last night had been one of the hottest so far this never-ending summer, and she’d only managed to snatch a few minutes of sleep every few hours. The rainy days this past week had been the wettest, too; was that why it had to be so hot today, so the mud and mulch would dry? She sighed, knowing that it would only get worse as the sun grew brighter and rose higher in the pale blue sky. She would have to dress particularly light today.
After having a quick bath in a tub full of cold water, she told her ladies that she was dying from her migraine and asked them to bring her enough food and water to last her all day and leave her alone until tomorrow morning.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave the bed to open the door for each meal to be brought in.” It was what she always said to them on days that she left the Palace through the secret passage in her bedchamber.
Just before the clock struck ten, she left the castle grounds, her horse’s saddlebags carrying several flasks of water. As she rode towards the Public Library, she went over her plan one last time. She would look for other titles by Nayn Rametti first, and then try to see if she could find out anything about the author himself. She might have to ask the librarians for that—the Rametti family tree would only inform her of when Nayn had been born, and to whom, as well as the date of his death—and that would lead nicely to the topic of the Sea Princess’s tale. Why it changed from one edition to another. She wouldn’t ask if they had the first edition of the story; she’d wait for them to mention it first.
The Ramettis had always been very wealthy, making money from garments, farming, and poisons, but she didn’t know that there had been writers amongst them. She was pretty sure they were distantly related to her mother’s family. Malin had very few memories of Kanona—and they were nothing more than flashes of a smile, a swish of blonde hair—and she hadn’t really gotten to know her mother’s side of the family. They left Court after Kanona’s death and never returned. Malin had never felt the need to reach out to them seen as they hadn’t bothered to keep in touch with the children Kanona had left behind.
Once, she’d asked Leesha if she felt just as resentful as she did, if that was why she hadn’t invited the Nidiyas to her wedding. Her sister had surprised her by confessing that she’d been writing to them ever since she got engaged. However, they hadn’t been receptive at all. If they didn’t want to attend the wedding of Kanona’s firstborn, Malin didn’t think they’d want to sit and have tea with Kanona’s youngest, either.
The Princess was saved from dwelling any longer on the apathy of her maternal aunts and uncles by the sight of the Public Library, the large white-stone building shimmering in the sunshine. Securing her horse to a nearby tree, she adjusted the soft cap that hid her hair and marched inside.
It was during times like these that she felt relieved that she was flat-chested and didn’t have to worry about the curves of her body giving her away. She was the tallest out of her sisters and just as powerfully built, and as a result, no one had thrown Shahan a questioning or suspicious glance. She didn’t know whether or not her disguise was good enough to fool the people that knew her, but she wasn’t going to find that out today—she’d be meeting the public librarians for the first time today.
Assuming that this library, like the one in the Palace, would have a record of all the books it housed organised by author name, she went about locating that first. It didn’t take long, and it took mere seconds to flip to the page with all of Nayn Rametti’s works. But… She re-read the half-dozen titles attributed to Nayn and scowled. None of the books sounded like children’s stories—or works of fiction for that matter. Every single title alluded to the uses of various plants in poison-making.
She wasn’t surprised that the Tale of the Sea Princess wasn’t listed under his name. The Public Library doesn’t have the second edition of the Tale, that’s all. The list didn’t include everything he’d ever published, but rather which of his works were under this roof. Perhaps they didn’t have any of his fiction in this library? The third edition of the Sea Princess story had to be stocked here somewhere, but it would be hard to find when you didn’t know the author’s name.
It had been a lucky coincidence that the second and third editions were together in the Royal Library, but that wouldn’t be the case here. With so many people using this library, it was likely to be better maintained and organised.
“Is there something I can help you with, young sir?” An elderly librarian was smiling politely at her. Perfect timing.
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” Malin lied in the deepest voice possible. Then, quickly: “Well, actually, maybe I do need help… My little sister wanted to re-read the Sea Princess story for the hundredth time, but you don’t seem to have it.” She pointed at the list of Nayn’s books.
The librarian gave it a cursory glance and nodded to himself.
“She used to read her friend’s copy, but they’ve fallen out, so she asked me to borrow a copy from here.”
“Her friend had an older edition,” the librarian explained, “and we can do much better. Follow me.”
The man led her to a shelf towards the back of the room and pulled out what was clearly a third edition of the Tale.
She accepted the book and feigned surprise. “But this is a different author—”
“This is the newest edition, and its more suitable for the young ones,” the librarian said cheerily. “The Nayn Rametti version came before this one, and though it’s not as bad as the original, Rametti’s narrative still isn’t appropriate for younger minds. It’s probably a good thing that your sister has fallen out with her friend.” The man chuckled.
“I don’t understand…” But she was
beginning to.
“The original version of the story, I’ve been told, was not a children’s story at all. It took the Island by storm when it first arrived on these shores, and very quickly became a favourite bedtime story. But when the children wanted to read it for themselves…” The elderly man shook his head. “It was Nayn Rametti that wrote and printed a child-friendly copy. His version was even more popular than the original, but it still wasn’t perfect for children. So, a third edition was printed. Luckily, no other alterations were needed after that.”
Exactly as Malin had thought when the librarian mentioned the suitability of the Tale for children. “I’m not surprised Nayn Rametti couldn’t fix it the first time,” she scoffed. “All his books are about plants!”
“Indeed. He wasn’t a novelist by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Then, why did he do it?”
“Interesting story, actually,” the librarian mused, leading her to his desk at the front of the building. “Legend has it that he was forced into revising the story by his wife and in-laws. They were the ones that first got everyone worked up about the Sea Princess’s tale being unsuitable for young people and how it set a bad example. People started burning every copy they could find. But… perhaps Nayn was too fond of the tale to change it too much, and that’s why another alteration was needed.”
“Why did they let the second edition become so popular, then? Why didn’t they publish the third edition sooner?”
“I’m not sure.” The librarian thought for a moment. “Maybe they thought that a gradual change was better than a drastic one? If the second edition was too different from the original, then people would think of them as two stories not one. But changing it little-by-little makes it easier to accept as one thing.
“Soon, everyone had forgotten that the original told a different story. It was even suggested that Nayn’s wife married him because he was a well-known author and from an influential family. She wanted to use his writing skills to further her family’s cause.”
“And who were these people that went to such lengths to make the Sea Princess’s tale what it is now?”