Thief Prince

by Cheree Alsop

  Chapter 11

  The horses stomped in excitement, as eager as the riders for the races in the snow. An obstacle course had been laid out in an oval that raced along the wall, then veered off through the huge, jagged, snow-covered boulders that filled the back half of the castle grounds. Antorans sat on blankets in choice spots all along the track, eating picnic food and playing games while they waited for the races to start.

  A snowball sailed through the air and I ducked; it whizzed by inches from my ear. I looked around to see who had thrown it. A little boy peeked out at me from behind his mother's skirts.

  “I am so sorry,” she apologized, her expression a mixture of horror and embarrassment that her son had just thrown a snowball at a member of foreign royalty. “I didn’t realize where he was throwing, I-”

  “It's alright,” I replied with a grin to save her from continuing. “I used to snowball fight with my brother all the time back home.”

  “You did?” the little boy asked. His mother gave me a grateful smile.

  I nodded and scooped up some snow in my gloved hands.

  The sound as I packed it together made me smile with the memories it brought. “Rory had a really good aim.” I winked at the little boy. “But I think he let me win a lot of the time. He's a great big brother.”

  “Why isn't he here with you?” the boy asked.

  My smile faltered. The mother must have seen my change in expression, because she thanked me for talking to her son, gave a low curtsey, then led him away to look at the horses. I dropped the snowball and scuffed the snow with the toe of my shoe.

  I fought back sorrow that would damper the celebrations; I kept reminding myself that this picnic was for Antor, not to appease my aching heart. I couldn’t do anything to help Rory from here, and I wouldn't have word from home for at least two more days if Ayd hadn’t exaggerated the amazing speed of his hawks.

  “Searching for something?” a voice asked.

  I looked up to see one of Andric's stewards watching me. He was dressed in the Antoran colors of black and green, and his robes bore the steward emblem of a white fist over his heart. His eyes were kind and his smile held the kind of warmth that beckoned my trust. I was surprised at how many who worked at the castle bore the same expression; Andric had a good group of people to help him.

  I shook my head and thanked him for his concern. “Just waiting for the races,” I told him, forcing a nonchalant smile to my face.

  He nodded. “Horsemaster Drade is racing Sorn; if you're a betting person, I'd place my bets on him.”

  I heard an echo of Father's voice and shook my head. “My father taught me that gambling was just throwing away money better spent on something worthwhile.”

  The steward nodded appreciatively. “He sounds like a wise man.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “On the other hand, my father enjoys a good bet. He taught me that the best way to make a small fortune gamboling was to bring a large fortune to bet with.” He laughed. “He also taught me that to lose is a great way to ensure that you never become to prideful.”

  I couldn't help but laugh at the chagrined expression on his face. “Your way sounds more fun than mine.”

  He nodded with a grin that brought laugh lines to the corners of his eyes. “Would you like to see the horses? They should have them out of the stables by now.”

  I thought of Trae and nodded. It would be good to see how he was doing. The steward guided me through the crowds who gave way when they saw us. Everyone finished off the last of the roasted pork and fresh rolls in good cheer. Hot chocolate and spiced pumpkin milk steamed in huge bowls on big tables set out in the snow. Children with red noses and big grins ladled out cups of the sweet drinks. One of them offered a cup to me and I couldn't turn down the little boy's big green eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said. I took a sip of chocolate and the hot liquid warmed me from the inside out. “It's delicious.”

  He giggled and ran back to his friends to coax other picnickers into having another serving.

  The horses milled about expectantly by the starting line. It was funny to see how their enthusiasm surpassed even that of their riders. Drade's herd was easy to pick out because they didn't have any bridles and weren't tied to posts to wait. A few more bridleless horses waited by their bonded owners, but none showed the same enthusiasm as Drade's thick-coated, shaggy herd. Several already bore riders and paced up and down the set track, flattening down the snow for the start of the race.

  Trae stood near the starting line. He looked depressed, his head low and ears twitching as he watched the other horses prepare to run. He recognized my scent before I reached him and lifted his head. His nostrils flared and he whickered a welcome.

  “Looks like you have a friend,” the steward said with a perceptive smile. “I will leave you to catch up.” He patted Trae’s shoulder as if they were familiar comrades, then gave me a low bow.

  “Thank you very much,” I replied, more grateful for his company than I could express. He gave a nod as if he guessed as much and walked away. A young boy held out a cup of pumpkin milk and he accepted it with a dramatic flourish that made the children at the table laugh.

  I turned back to Trae. He walked to meet me and his limp made me ashamed. I rubbed his head in apology.

  “How are you doing, boy? It's my fault you can't race, and I feel so bad about it.” Trae nuzzled my cheek as if he knew what I was saying.

  “It's not your fault at all,” replied a familiar voice behind me.

  I turned to find Drade, the horse Tisha and I had ridden, Pantim, at his side. “It's good to see you again,” the Horsemaster said with a welcoming smile. “And I mean it about Trae's injury. He wasn't the only horse to get hurt out there; that's the price of battle.” His smile saddened as we both thought of the horse that he was forced to put down.

  I pushed aside the thought and rubbed Pantim's nose in greeting. The horse whickered and bobbed his head. I reached up to smooth his fetlock across his forehead when something jolted from my fingertips up my arm and into my mind. I saw the racing path from a horse's point of view, hooves pounding the ground, churning the snow underfoot. A steaming breath was whisked away; the thrill of the run filled my veins.

  “Are you alright?” Drade's voice broke through the thought.

  I stared at him, then back at Pantim. The horse watched me with knowing eyes; he gave a quiet nicker.

  “Do you want to ride him in the race?” Drade invited, his gaze curious.

  Pantim bobbed his head and pawed the snow with an eager hoof. It was easy to see that he understood exactly what the Horsemaster said.

  “I-I wouldn't want to take him from someone else,” I fumbled, still dazed.

  Drade shook his head, a warm smile on his face. “My horses choose who they want on their backs, not the other way around. Pantim's usually one of the first to decide on a rider, and he's just wandered around. I think he was waiting for you.”

  I looked back at Trae. “I'd hate to leave Trae by himself.”

  “Trae doesn't mind, do you?” he asked, rubbing Trae's whiskery nose. The horse nuzzled his hand. “He'll be fine, but Pantim won't give you a break until you agree.” The older man's eyes twinkled mischievously.

  Pantim reiterated the thought by nudging my chest with his nose hard enough to knock me off balance. I had to laugh. “Alright, alright, I'll race with you,” I finally agreed. Pantim snorted and led the way toward the starting line. Drade walked beside us. Sorn already waited for him patiently by the others.

  The number of riders surprised me. It looked like every family had someone riding in the race. There was no prize, that had been announced at the beginning; although, when good-natured protests rang out, Andric promised he would find something suitable to give the winner. Everyone laughed at that, which made me wonder what kind of a suitable prize they expected.

  With a start, I saw Prince Andric sitting on a dark brown horse near the right side of the starting line. I hadn’t expected the Crown
Prince of Antor to ride with us, but given his relationship with the Antoran citizens, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I still felt embarrassed about my eavesdropping and didn’t know how to face him. He glanced down the row of horses toward us. I ducked behind Pantim and pretended to check his hooves for rocks, then swung up on the horse's back a few seconds before the whistle blew.

  My body remembered Pantim's gait. I gripped with my knees, and let my body sway with the horse's rhythm. It was very different to ride the horse at a full-out gallop, and turned out to be easier than the bone-jarring trot through the mountains.

  It was immediately evident that Pantim loved to run. He wasn't built for it like the horses my father and the other kings bred on the plains, but he threw himself into the gallop across the snow. He held his head low and pushed hard. His breath came out in short clouds of steam in the crisp air. His hooves easily maneuvered the snow-covered rocks and branches, and I was grateful for his sure footing. I couldn't help laughing at the simple joy of racing, the feel of the air rushing past my face, stealing the breath from my mouth, the thunder of the hooves which pounded in my bones.

  We didn't win the race, but we weren't far behind, either. Drade and Sorn won, which wasn't a surprise to anyone, followed closely by a young girl on a big black horse, and Andric on his dark brown one. We waited for the others before dismounting, walking the horses to cool them down. I kept my distance from the Prince and instead joked with Drade along with several other riders he had beaten.

  After the other riders had finished, Andric held up his hands. The crowd grew immediately silent. Trevin, Kaerdra, and the other Crowns stood near the wall trying to look impassive about the proceedings, but it was obvious by their attention that they were also interested in what the Prince would say. Though I had received several glares from them after the rest, Kaerdra and Brynna especially, I knew several of the boys had secretly longed to participate. I wondered what Rory would say about me racing with my captors.

  “I’ve thought long and hard about an appropriate prize for the winner,” he said. His dark eyes danced. “And who would have guessed it would have been Drade?”

  A laugh went up from the crowd and several people slapped Drade on the back. He chuckled good-humoredly with them, but his eyes stayed on his prince, his expression a mixture of chagrin and curiosity.

  “Allow me to retrieve his reward,” Andric continued. He disappeared into the nearby stables and left the Antorans to speculate. When he returned carrying a little pink pig wearing a big red bow in his arms, I burst out laughing. The audience laughed even louder.

  The Horsemaster accepted his prize with an affable grin that grew wider when his little daughter ran up and held out her hands, her face lit up like a tiny sun. He sighed and put the little pig in her hands, much to the enjoyment of the onlookers.

  “Great, now he'll have to be a pet,” Drade grumbled with a long-suffering smile.

  His wife, a blond-haired, rotund woman smiled back. “We'll just add it to the menagerie.”

  Andric laughed and patted him on the back. “Well won, Horsemaster. Although, I don't know how fair it is for the rest of us to race against the one bonded to the other horses.”

  Several others shouted in good-natured agreement. “That's alright,” Andric said loudly, winking at Drade. “If it was a wolf race, we would have had a different ending.”

  Amid laughter and cheers, the crowd made its way toward the castle to warm up in the banquet hall. Fires had been stoked to roaring in all of the fireplaces, and with the sun-warmed bricks, the hall was toasty and comfortable. The tables had been moved to the sides to leave the middle floor wide open. A string band was already there, and at Andric's cue, they struck up a merry tune.

  Tisha, Landis, and I made our way to one of the waiting tables. Soon, the other Crowns joined us. “Enjoying yourself a little much here, don’t you think?” Kaerdra asked brusquely.

  I fought back the urge to drop my eyes and met her gaze honestly. “I’ve grown up racing horses. We’re stuck here until Spring, so I don’t see the need to withhold from participating in a little familiar activity while we wait.”

  Landis’ eyebrows rose. “You’ve gained a bit of bite being here,” he pointed out.

  A blush rose to my cheeks and I shook my head, but he cut me off. “A good ruler acts not according to the dictates of others, but in line with the premonitions of his or her own heart. You don’t have to defend yourself to Kaerdra.”

  The Princess of Cren glared at him while the others stared. Appreciation swelled in my heart and I gave him a smile of gratitude. He smiled back and turned to Tisha who grinned at me from his side. “Would you like to dance?”

  The Maesh Princess' cheeks blushed red. “I don't know the steps to this song.”

  Landis smiled encouragingly. “Me neither; we'll improvise.”

  She smiled and accepted his hand. With a laugh, the Prince pulled her to her feet; they hurried to join the circle that was spinning in time to the catchy tune.

  Trevin glanced at me furtively. I grinned, for the moment happy and content. “Don't worry,” I reassured him, “I'm bushed after that race. Your toes are safe.”

  It was true. Racing with Pantim had taken more out of me than I thought. I wondered if it had more to do with the brief, strange contact I had experienced. I could still picture the galloping hooves churning up the snow from the horse's point of view. It confused me, but I didn't want to consider the implications.

  “I can't believe they're enjoying themselves,” Kenyen grumbled next to me.

  Danyen elbowed his brother. “Oh, lighten up.” He rose and bowed to Kaerdra. “Would you care for a dance, my lady?” She gave a small smile and accepted his hand, and without looking in my direction, she joined the others on the floor.

  Trevin glanced at me and then quickly turned to Brynna. “Care to join me?”

  To my relief, Kenyen sighed and asked Nyssa to dance as well. I was happy to not be stuck with his sulking while the others spun around the dance floor.

  I sat back against the table and watched the others attempt to learn the complicated steps. Trevin and Brynna picked it up quickly, while Landis turned out to be a very accomplished dancer. He coaxed Tisha through the steps until she was confident enough to join the circle. The other two couples spun to the side of the main group, making up their own dance instead of learning the foreign one.

  A servant brought over a cup of red punch, and I sipped at its fresh, crisp taste. Before I had a chance to finish the glass, though, a fair-haired young man in his twenties stopped in front of me. His cheeks were bright red and his hands shook slightly with nerves. He clenched them into fists in the hopes that I wouldn’t notice and gave a low bow, his eyes on the floor. “Would you like to dance?” he asked in a nervous, hopeful voice.

  I didn’t hesitate; I took his hand and smiled at the surprise on his face. “Yes, thank you!”

  I had never been one to turn down a good dance, as bad as I was at it. Thankfully for both parties involved, it turned out that my feet were better suited to the quick steps of the Antoran melodies than the long, graceful strides and twists of the regular Denbrian dances.

  I turned from one partner to another throughout the evening, resting only long enough to grab some refreshments before being asked for the next dance. It was a strange, refreshing feeling to have young men, and some older ones, asking for dances in advance instead of me lingering around the outside of the dance circle hoping no one noticed that I stood out. Each person was a stranger when we started, but we laughed like friends by the end of the evening.

  I let my guard down and forgot to worry about impressions and propriety. I realized afterwards it was those fears that had made me a bad dancer; too much concentration and worry messed up my steps more than my own clumsiness. I talked and joked lightly, and the men I danced with responded in like terms, as if we realized we were dancing just to dance, and were able to lose ourselves in the enjoyment of the evening.


  I began to feel guilty as the dancing wound down. I wondered how close my letter was to Zalen, and how my parents would react when they got it. I wondered how they would feel if they knew I danced with the same people who had kidnapped us. I tried to console myself with the thought that they would be happier I was dancing than if I was held hostage in some prison, but it didn't help much. The other Crowns retreated back to their chambers as the evening waned. Though they kept to themselves and I felt their stares on me as I danced with common Antorans, I no longer cared what they thought and had the most enjoyment I had ever experienced at a ball.

  Finally, when my feet felt like they were ready to fall off and the punch could no longer chase the weariness from my limbs, I bid my last partner goodnight and left the hall filled with light, cheer, and more friends than I had ever had in Zalen.

  Chapter 12

  Starlight filtered down amid the stones and lit the walkways in twilight. I walked slowly up the stairs and along the hallway, enjoying the hush after the cacophony of the crowd. I had almost reached my door when I made out the form of a lone figure wandering slowly in the darkness with one hand trailing along the wall.

  I almost ducked into my room anyway, passing the figure off as a stray partier, but something about the way he walked caught my attention. There was an air of loss about him, a searching cast to the way he peered down the hallway.

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  He paused and turned, uncertainty in his step. He merely looked at me.

  I couldn't see his face in the shadows. I walked closer. “Are you lost?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

  My eyes widened at the voice of Prince Andric's father. I hesitated for the briefest second, then continued up the hallway toward him. “King Fayne, Sir?”

  He nodded. “Yes, may I help you?”

  I fought back a smile at the sudden concern in his voice. “Actually, I was wondering if I could show you to your rooms.”

  “Well.” He paused and looked around, his brow creased with confusion. He wore a dark green robe and soft, black slippers. “This definitely is not my rooms. I seem to have misplaced them,” he concluded with a nod.