by Ella Ardent
But what of his nightmares?
What had Royce meant about his past demanding a reckoning? Could I discover anything that might help Royce sleep in peace?
If so, it would be Marta who knew the truth.
Chapter 5
Royce
She fled.
I saw my beauty running, but she was on the far side of the great room. I tried to run after her, the guests seemed to be allied in a conspiracy against me. Each step I took, my passage was blocked by swirling, laughing dancers. I fought my way through their ranks and finally made the door, only to see her in the bailey. She already had one foot in her carriage and the horses were stamping, ready to run.
“Stop!” I cried, but she only spared me a glance before she disappeared into the silver carriage. The footman closed the door and jumped to the running board, giving a whistle to the coachman. The reins were snapped and the horses surged forward, all before I reached the palace door.
“Stop them!” I bellowed to the gatekeeper who looked to have been dozing at his post. He started and reached for the gates, but the carriage had already hurtled beneath the portcullis. It raced down the road toward the village even as I ran to the gates myself.
“My horse!” I shouted, furious that she should run from me.
The destrier was saddled and brought quickly to me, but not quickly enough. I hurled myself into the saddle and gave the beast my heels. He was swift and strong, and galloped down the road to the village with satisfying speed. I could barely see the silver glint of the carriage, for it had already entered the village and my view was blocked by the houses. It appeared to have veered to the right.
The horse raced into the village, but I couldn’t see the silver carriage anywhere. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, so there were no tracks to follow. I halted the horse, and he stamped in place, more than ready to run. His breath made clouds in the cold air and I saw that the sky to the east was rosy. A cock crowed and the sleepy village began to stir.
But there were no hoofbeats, no squeak of a carriage, no cries from a coachman.
I clicked my tongue to the horse and walked him to the right, where I thought the carriage had gone. I found no sign of its passage and wondered in that moment if the maiden had been a dream.
My mother’s hut was ahead on the right. She was in her garden already, sweeping the step as she did each morning. She had always been one to rise early. I touched my heel to the horse’s side, urging him toward the hut.
“Good morning, Mother,” I said, and she leaned on her broom to survey me.
“Well, well,” she said. “Fortune suits you well.”
I wasn’t sure whether she mocked me. Even though I had dressed with care for the ball, I was disheveled in this moment. I had no cloak and I’m certain my appearance was a bit wild. She didn’t step forward to embrace me, and so I didn’t leave the saddle. I had a sense that my place as her son was forfeit, and that she might have been a stranger.
The sun rose over the trees, its light gilding the hut where I had grown up. I saw its crude simplicity now as I hadn’t before, but I knew I’d been happy here.
“Have you seen a carriage?” I asked and my mother raised her brows. “It is as silver as the full moon and pulled by four slate-gray horses.”
“In this village?” she asked, biting back a smile. “That would be a sight to see.”
“I saw it enter the village. If you were here on the stoop, you must have heard it, even if you didn’t see it.”
“You’ve become very certain of yourself,” she said, which wasn’t a reply at all.
My annoyance rose. “Can you tell me where the carriage went?”
“No,” she said simply. “I cannot.”
There was steel in her tone, a resolve I recognized. She denied my will simply because she could. “Mother, I seek the maiden who rides within it.”
“Because you would claim what is your right to take?” My mother scoffed and returned to her sweeping. “You ask the wrong person for assistance in that endeavor.”
I watched her for a long moment before I spoke. She was more of an enigma to me than ever.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally asked, my voice quiet.
She shook her head, as if amused by her own folly. “Because I wanted to save you, of course.”
It was a ridiculous answer and I challenged her upon it. “Save me? From a life of luxury and privilege? From prosperity and comfort? From my legacy as heir to the throne and all the merit that comes from that?”
She laughed. “Is that how you see life in the palace? Well, perhaps it does suit you, then. Perhaps what is bred in the bone can’t be denied.” She swept again and I thought our conversation might be ended. “Regis must be pleased.” She said this last as if the king’s pleasure was of no relevance to anyone, which was exactly the opposite of what her attitude should be.
“And what is that to mean?” My tone was sharp then.
“That you are your father’s son, no more and no less. He will see you as a mirror of himself and will ensure that the reflection is perfect.”
“You should have told me that Lars wasn’t my father.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you think I deserved to know my birthright? Didn’t you realize it was wrong to hide it from me?”
“You do sound like him,” she murmured, then curtseyed low. “I apologize, your highness, that I cannot answer your question. I hope your day is fine.” And with that, my mother retreated into her hut. I heard her turn the key in the lock after the door was closed, and knew she wouldn’t respond if I knocked upon the door.
Perhaps the birds the king had sent to her would lighten her mood.
Perhaps I would have a better answer from her on another day.
I rode the horse around the perimeter of the village, then around the central square. I saw the saddlemaker’s wife milking their cow, and the cobbler’s wife gathering eggs. Someone was chopping wood and I hesitated beside Malcolm’s house, thinking of Helena and her charms. I smiled, thinking how the games Lascivia had taught me would shock her. I frowned as I turned my horse back toward the palace.
She was gone.
My beauty had vanished as surely as if she had never been.
How could that be?
Where could she have gone?
What if she didn’t attend the second ball?
What if I never saw her again?
How would I find her?
Her kiss had lit a fire within me, a desire that the twins could never sate. I let the horse gallop all the way back to the palace and arrived there in time to say farewell to the maidens from the village as their carriages and wagons were summoned. Some looked sleepy while others were still pink with excitement. They appeared to be even more rough in the morning light, but I stood at the portal and wished each and every one well. Lascivia had retired and my father soon did as well.
Not me. I could not sleep. I couldn’t rest, not without knowing the location of my beauty, not without being certain of her return.
I would put my restlessness to good purpose and train at arms.
There were few in the bailey where I trained when I arrived there later that morning, armed for battle. I supposed that most of the knights in the employ of the castle were sleeping after the night’s revels. I was tempted to rouse them, to command their service, but then I saw the black knight from Imperium leaning against the stable.
He was watching me, his expression inscrutable.
“Will you train with me?” I asked, for he was the king’s guest and not mine to command.
His smile turned condescending. “It would be a poor guest who bested the crown prince in his father’s court.”
“You are confident of your skills.”
“I have watched you train these past days and I know my own merit.”
Irritation roiled within me. “I could challenge you for the insult.”
“Then you would be foolish as well. Surely you
must know that skill in battle must be cultivated over years of training, not mere days.”
I felt my neck heat, for there was truth in his words.
“You do well enough,” he acknowledged. “But truly, I have squires of greater skill.”
“Squires?”
“Squires,” he confirmed. “You begin your training late, perhaps too late to become a great warrior. Your father hasn’t served you well in this.”
“When does training begin in Imperium?”
“At the age of seven, a boy begins his military training. The discipline must be instilled early so that it becomes second nature.” He lifted a brow. “So that passion doesn’t guide the blade instead of prudence.”
I strolled closer to him, understanding his implication. “And you think my passion can’t be curtailed?”
“I’m not sure you want to discipline it.” He shrugged. “Why would an heir to a throne control any of his desires? It is an unnatural response to privilege and power.” His voice dropped lower. “It is why kings are so often inadequate rulers.”
I was in no mood to let such provocation pass unchallenged.
“Indeed? Come then,” I invited. “Show me how much better the warriors of Imperium fight. Show me the merit of discipline and prudence.”
The dark knight smiled and did not stir himself. “Again, I am compelled to note that I wouldn’t wish to insult my host by doing injury to his son.”
The implication that he would easily best me was irksome, as doubtless it was intended to be. “You could graciously lose,” I said, giving him an excuse.
“As the others who fight against you have done?” He laughed, though I was irked at his suggestion. “Not I, sir. I only fight in earnest, no matter what the stakes.”
I raised a hand to beckon to him. “Then come and fight me. May the best man win.”
He hesitated, so I spoke again.
“I will ensure that my father takes no offense, if you should be so lucky as to defeat me.”
“Luck?” The dark knight stretched out a hand to his squire, requesting his helmet. “Only poor fighters rely upon luck,” he said with scorn and I heard in his voice that my challenge had been taken. “A knight of merit depends upon his superior skill.”
“Then show me yours.”
I was cocky and filled with confidence, a confidence that soon proved to be undeserved. I hadn’t realized how much the knights of my father’s household had been catering to me, not until this knight engaged with all his might. He couldn’t have been holding back—or if he was, he was stronger than a god. His sword stuck mine the first time with such force as to drive the weapon from my grasp.
I stumbled and attacked, but he stepped out of my path with remarkable agility. He thrust and I parried, almost losing my balance before he attacked again. He might have been a dozen men instead of just one, and I was beset to defend myself. My breath was coming quickly and I tasted fear.
My ire rose, then was replaced with a cool calculation, one that stood me in good stead. I watched how he moved and began to mimic him. Instead of taking all the blows, I began to anticipate him and ducked aside or struck back with vigor.
To my surprise, he laughed when I finally landed a glancing blow upon his shoulder. “Now, you are learning!” he said with what might have been genuine pleasure. “Step into the circle instead of retreating. Compel me to engage upon your terms instead of accepting mine.”
I did as he instructed and though we fought with greater force, it wasn’t so clear that I would be the loser. We battled back and forth across the bailey, steel clashing on steel, sweat running beneath my aketon and joy filling my heart. I was learning so much from him, and I laughed aloud when I managed to strike him fully once.
He staggered backward, complimented me, and engaged again.
This was training! I fought with greater confidence, learning from his instruction, until finally he landed his sword upon my chest and called a halt. I was panting and drenched with sweat, yet triumphant in my loss all the same.
The black knight doffed his helmet and offered his hand. “Well done, sir,” he said. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
I couldn’t take offense, not once I saw the teasing glint in his eyes. I chose to reply in kind after shaking his hand. “You see so little prospect in me as that? My father will be disappointed.”
He sobered. “And so I should not speak thus in his palace.” He bowed, his expression impassive once more. I sensed that a barrier had returned between us. “I beg your forgiveness, sir.”
I frowned, having preferred his blunt speech. “There is nothing to forgive. You have taught me much this morning. Thank you.”
He considered me and I wondered what he saw. “You are welcome, sir.”
“What is your name?”
“Balthazar, sir.”
I shed my own helmet and shook out my hair, then leaned on my sword, studying him. “What is Imperium like?”
He blinked in surprise and straightened, eyeing me. “Why do you ask, sir?”
“Because I know nothing of it, nothing of any place beyond Euphoria’s village, really, and it seems that I should.” I particularly thought I should know more of a place where such knights could be found.
“It seems as much to me as well,” he said, speaking with such care that I wondered what he feared.
“I want to know about the military training in Imperium and why such a system seemed to be unknown in Euphoria.” I surveyed the bailey and the few men who had gathered to watch us. “The knights in my father’s court come from abroad.”
“They are hired mercenaries,” Balthazar corrected.
“It seems that it would be wiser to train our own knights, so I would know more.”
He smiled then, his satisfaction with my reply more than clear. “I salute your impulse, sir. It does seem most wise.”
“If you tell me of Imperium’s training, I might better resolve how to begin.”
“Indeed. Do you speak other languages, sir?”
I smiled at the whimsical notion. “To what purpose? Everyone in Euphoria speaks the same tongue.”
“But not those beyond your borders.”
I thought of the twins and their chatter, which made no sense to me. “Do you?”
“I speak only four with any fluency, sir, which is sufficient for a diplomat.”
I was shocked, both by his confession and by his implication. It appeared that there was much for me to learn. “But not for a king, by your thinking.”
He frowned. “To be frank, sir, any regent must acknowledge the possibility of deceit in his household or amongst his followers. Most who reign long and well know more rather than less.”
“Well said, Balthazar. How many languages are there?”
He smiled. “I don’t truly know, sir. There are at least another ten beyond the four I know.”
Fourteen languages, and likely more. Twelve years of military training I had only just begun. And I had no doubt that there was even more for me to learn than that. I turned to Balthazar and bowed in my turn. “I would entreat you to do me the honor of beginning my education, Balthazar.”
“And how shall we start, sir?”
“Tell me of the world beyond Euphoria’s borders.”
I won a steady look for that, as if he thought I jested with him, but then he nodded. He drew a circle in the dirt of the bailey with the tip of his sword. “You might think of this as the kingdom of Euphoria,” he said, touching the point to the middle of the circle he had drawn. “With the village and palace at its center.”
I folded my arms across my chest, intent upon the lesson. I nodded understanding.
“To the west,” Balthazar began, then looked to me in invitation.
“The kingdom of Miletas, where Lothair will be king and my sister Argenta, his queen.” I knew something of the world, at least, though now I realized I had one ally beyond Euphoria’s borders.
“And to the east and south?”
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“Imperium, a mighty empire but one of which I know so little.”
“And to the north?”
“Noorlandia. My father says there are battles there.”
“The battles on that northern frontier are between Miletas and Imperium. They both seek control of the crystals that can be mined in Noorlandia.”
“I have two slaves from there.”
“So I have seen. Consider how much they could tell you of the intricacies of the situation in their homeland, if you spoke their language.”
I frowned at this, for it seemed so evident yet challenged my own father’s view. “I don’t even know their names.” I recalled my father saying that their names and their pasts were of no relevance. I already doubted that Balthazar would say the same.
“Freya and Reyna,” he supplied curtly. At my surprise, he smiled again. “Noorlans is one of my four languages. They might teach it to you, sir, if you showed interest.”
I thought then of Lascivia and how she always wished to ensure that the twins’ mouths were busy, or that they were ordered to silence. I had assumed her jealous of the attention I granted to them, but perhaps there was more to the matter. “Does the emperor’s daughter speak Noorlans?”
“Not so well as I do,” Balthazar said, his gaze dropping. “Her interest lies in other directions.”
“What directions?”
He smiled, a wariness in his eyes, and avoided my answer, much as my mother might have done. Instead of replying, he deepened the line along the eastern and southern boundary of Euphoria in his map. “And here is the River Swift that defines your border with Imperium. Some say Imperium embraces Euphoria like a lover in the dark.”
“The Swift is a wide and deep river, and well-guarded,” I said, for I had seen the knights stationed there.
“An excellent border and one easy to defend,” Balthazar agreed. The tip of his sword moved to the north. “Just as here, there are mountains with only a single good road through them and many sentry points. Another excellent natural defense.” His sword moved to the western side of Euphoria. “But here, on the border with Miletas, there is only forest.”