by Cheree Alsop
I crossed the remaining space between and gave him a warm smile. “I might know where they’re hiding. Allow me to lead the way, if you please.”
He looked down at my offered arm, and his tired brown eyes, a few shades lighter than Andric's, lit up for the briefest second. “Thank you, my lady. It's been a while since I've had the pleasure of walking with a young woman. My wife’s been away for so long, I fear her ships have been delayed.”
I nodded and led the way back down the hall. “It must be the ice,” I said, remembering Andric’s words from the night before.
The old King nodded in agreement. “It's been a cold winter, and I fear it will get colder before the spring comes.”
My stomach clenched at the statement and I changed the subject. “It's a beautiful castle you have here. I've never seen stones like these.”
King Fayne nodded with a reminiscent smile. “My ancestors mined them out of the mountains; that’s how they found the Elder diamonds. Building this castle out of white marble was the smartest move they made. It's beautiful, keeps us warm in the winter, and,” he gave me a conspiratorial wink, “It's great for defense.” He smiled as if we both knew what he meant and patted my arm. “It'll keep those beastly Breizans from getting to those we hold most dear.”
The name sent a shiver up my spine. I led him down the stairs and along the hall. The brief glimpse I caught of the banquet hall showed that most of the revelers had retired for the night, leaving only the castle servants to tidy up for the coming morning. I thought of how long I had danced and wondered how soon morning would be. It couldn't be that far away.
We turned up another flight of stairs, the one I had accidentally gone up the night before. “Did you see the races today?” I asked him.
“Hmm?” he glanced over at me as if he had forgotten I was there. “Oh, um, no. Those are games for ghosts, now. I find myself better if I keep to my rooms.” His brow creased again. “Which makes me wonder how I got into this predicament.”
I smiled at him. “My mother sleepwalks sometimes. She finds herself in the oddest places.” I fought back a laugh at a sudden memory. “One night, I wasn't tired and went for a moonlit walk in the gardens only to find her pruning her beloved roses in her sleep!”
King Fayne chuckled, a cheerful, hearty sound out of place with his slightly confused, lost gaze. “I'll bet those roses were lovely.”
I sighed. “They would have been if she hadn’t pruned the bushes into the shape of a rabbit in her sleep. And it was one of her favorite species of rose. It took her a long time to coax anything to grow from it again after that annihilation.”
He laughed out loud. “I'll bet she kept her sleepwalking to a minimum after that.”
“She did, actually!” My throat tightened unexpectedly at the thought of her.
“Where are you from, little ghost?” the King asked amiably as I opened the door to his rooms.
“Zalen, Sir, south past the mountains.”
He continued to hold my arm, so I led him into the room and to his bed. He sat against the pillows and pulled the thick blankets up to his chest. The expression on his face was childlike and trusting. “That's a long way from here. What brings you to Antor?”
“Your son,” I replied quietly, remembering how enthusiastic the Prince had been when he had explained the kidnapping to his father the night before.
The King frowned thoughtfully. “I don't recall having a son.”
The words sent a pang through my heart. “Andric is a wonderful person. He cares so much about your country, and seems to care more about your people than he does for himself.”
“Sounds like he'd make a fine ruler someday. I'll have to meet him.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied. I tried not to sound as sad as his words made me.
I turned to go, but he called out, “What's your name, little ghost?”
“Kit, Sir,” I replied. I turned back to him. There was something pleading about his voice, as if he didn't want to be alone. I went back and sat on the chair that waited beside the bed. I could picture my mother in the same place in Rory’s room. I tried to see myself sitting at my father's bedside, his own memory faded and expression confused. I shook my head to chase away the thought. “My real name is Kirit, but my family's called me Kit since I was little.”
He thought about it and then nodded. “I like Kit. It suits you.”
I smiled, hoping it was a compliment. I was about to ask him something else when a voice near the bed startled me.
“How are you doing, Sir?” The tone of the question, though, was directed toward me. I looked up to find Andric watching me, his dark eyes guarded.
“Well, very well.” He tipped his head to indicate me. “I found myself quite lost, and this little Kit helped me get back to my rooms.” He winked at Andric, though there was no sign of recognition in his eyes. “She even let me hold her arm.”
Andric gave a short, careful nod. “That was very kind of her. I'm glad that you're safe.”
The old King nodded, looking tired. “I'm waiting for my sweet Maritha, though Kit feels her delay might be due to the ice.” He yawned. “In which case, she might have to wait until spring for the floes to break.”
“I'm sure she's safe, wherever she is,” Andric said quietly. I stood and took a few steps away so Andric could reach the bed. He helped his father settled in so that he was lying down with the blankets tucked around him.
King Fayne closed his eyes. Andric stepped back and tipped his head at me, indicating that we should leave the room. As I reached the door, the King said faintly, “Good night, little ghosts.” He then mumbled softer to himself, “I must get someone to look at the ghost problem in this castle.”
Andric shut the door quietly. I noticed then that the wolves, all five of them, had followed Andric to the King's room and waited by the door. They watched me now, their gazes steady.
The dark gray wolf I had met earlier in the snow along the wall touched my hand in greeting. In that split second, I saw the hallway through the wolf's eyes, the glowing light of the laced bricks, the shadows lighter than what I was used to; scents I didn’t detect in my own body were identified and cataloged by his brain as swiftly as his nose sorted through them. The sound of a tiny mouse scrabbling up a beam inside the floor seemed loud to my ears.
“Kit. . . Kit?” My hand dropped and I was brought back to my own senses to find the Prince staring at me.
“Are you alright?” he asked in concern, his eyes searching mine.
I shook my head, then stumbled when the movement threw off my equilibrium. Andric caught me, his arms steady. “You need to sit down somewhere.” He glanced around quickly, then led me to a smaller chamber a few rooms down, his arm around my waist in case I stumbled again. I could hear the wolves following us, and wondered if the gray one was as confused as I was. I risked a peek and saw that all of them were watching me.
Andric helped me into a soft armchair that sat in a pool of moonlight spilling through the window. “Is that better?”
I nodded. “Yes, thank you.” His eyes were stormy when I looked up at him. He met my gaze for a moment, then turned away.
The Prince paced once around the room, then stopped by the window and stared out. After a moment of silence in which I nervously toyed with the hem of my dress, he turned back to me. “Thank you for helping my father.”
“I would do it for anyone,” I said. Another wave of dizziness swept through me and I put a hand to my head to stop the spinning.
Andric was immediately at my side. He knelt down so that he could look into my face. “Are you sure you're alright?” he asked.
I blushed, embarrassed, and turned away. “I'm fine,” I said. “Just dizzy, that's all. Must be from all the excitement today.”
Andric watched me for another minute, then rose and took the seat across from mine. I looked up to see him shake his head. “I didn't mean for the journey to be so stressful for all of you. It wasn't fair of me to put you through
it.” His eyebrows were pulled down, the anger directed at himself. “If anything happens to the Crown Princes and Princesses of Denbria because of my selfish wants, I will never forgive myself.”
“Your selfish wants?” I replied in surprise. “I haven't seen you do a single selfish thing since we left Eskand.”
He glanced at me, his expression guarded.
I stumbled over my words in an attempt to explain myself. “Y-you say you do this all for yourself, but you're really doing it for us. I've seen the looks your people share, and I know the truth of what you say about Antor's demise. You're trying to hold a lost country together, and you're doing it all by yourself.” I couldn't help glancing toward the room where his father slept.
Andric closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. It was the most unguarded action I had seen him do since the night I stitched up his sword wound. He sighed and spoke with his eyes still closed. “You make my actions sound so noble, but they're not. I try to do my best, but it's not good enough. We'll still have to walk away from Antor come spring, and my people will be scattered all over Denbria in search of a new beginning. Nothing I do now can change that.”
I frowned. “From what I've heard, this started way before you became the leader of Antor. This isn't your fault, and you're left holding the bag.”
A slight smile drew up one corner of his mouth. “You have a funny way of putting things.”
Chagrined, I shot back with the first thing I could think of, “Well, your country has a funny way of celebrating.”
His smile grew bigger. “Is that your comeback? You're going to have to work on that.” He laughed at my reddening cheeks, then frowned thoughtfully. “You do dance well, though.”
His comment caught me off guard, and my heart gave a strange sideways thump. I couldn’t think of a response.
At my silence, his expression changed. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward; his eyes bored into mine. “You're different from anyone else I've ever met.” His tone made it sound like that wasn't such a bad thing. “You,” he paused and dropped his gaze to the floor as if he expected the right words to be written there. Exasperated, he finally looked back up at me. “You don't take people for who they are, or look for what they are hiding, you take them for who they could be, who they want to be.”
It was my turned to be confused. I didn't know if it was a bad thing or a good thing, and if it was bad, how I could change it when I didn't even know how I did it.
Andric must have read my expression because he gave a little smile and spread out his hand, palm up, as if offering me a token. “Take the dancing, for example. You danced with many Antorans tonight who never dreamed they would ever have the opportunity to dance with a princess, and you changed their lives because of it. And I know it didn't cross your mind once that you made my people feel as if you held them in the same regard as you hold the other Crowns who didn't venture to dance with anyone but themselves once the entire night, even to the point of turning down offers.”
I gasped, surprised that the other princesses would refuse after the courage it took for a young man to even ask.
Andric smiled, nodding as if I had proven his point. “The Antorans you danced with will remember tonight for the rest of their lives. I doubt you ever judged them as common countrymen, miners without even a mine to work. You treated them like equals.”
I finally forced myself to speak. “It's something I never learned in Zalen, the propriety of rank. My mother tried to drill it into me, afraid that someone would take advantage of who I was.” I sighed and shook my head. “It never made sense to me to judge someone by where they'd been born in life, or what circumstance forced them to do.”
Andric nodded again. His brown hair hung loose around his face; I wondered when he had taken it out of his usual warrior's tail. “That's what I mean. Those of us who have been born to lead, trained so from birth, were never given the luxury of taking people at face value; but you go beyond that. I've seen it in the way you treat the other Crown Princes and Princesses, the way you treat those of my people who are bonded with animals, and the way you've treated me.” His voice fell soft at the last part, and he turned to stare out the window at the dark winter night.
I didn't know what to say. I frowned as I puzzled it out. I looked up and saw that he was watching me again. Embarrassed, I tried to change the subject. “How's your back? I'll bet you haven't let Jesson look at it.”
It was Andric's turn to look chagrined. “He's been so busy with the wounded soldiers that I haven't wanted to bother him. But it feels fine, thanks to your stitching.”
“Let me see.” I said it as more of a command than an offer.
Andric grimaced ruefully. “Give you an inch, huh?” But he obeyed and turned in his chair so that his back was to the moonlight streaming through the window.
When he lifted up his shirt, I was surprised to see how well the wound was healing. The stitches held true, and though the wound still looked sore, there was no telltale angry redness surrounding it to indicate infection. I touched it gently and was relieved to feel that it wasn't hot.
He lowered his shirt and grinned at me. “See, I'm a fast healer.”
I sat back in my chair. The small, dark gray wolf I had touched earlier came to sit at Andric's side. The Prince rested a hand casually on the wolf's head, his thoughts elsewhere. Mine wandered tiredly through the experiences of the last few days until Andric's expression sharpened and he turned to look at me.
“Tyd says he thinks he touched your mind, like he does with me.”
I looked at the wolf, reluctant to admit what had happened. The wolf met my gaze. I felt very tired, and longed for the comfort of my bed. Still, I nodded unwillingly. “Something like that.”
He sat up straight, heedless of how it must tug at his shoulder. He had raced today without any sign of pain. He was stronger than me in so many ways that I would never be able to meet for my own country; it made me feel inadequate, especially under his searching gaze.
“Animals seldom bond to more than one person,” he said slowly, his face troubled.
I shook my head quickly. “It wasn't a bond, or anything like that. It was more like a brief passing hello, nothing concrete. I felt the same thing with Pantim today before the race.”
The Prince's eyes widened. “You touched minds with a horse, too? No one's ever been able to touch minds with more than one species, and definitely not casually, as you describe.” He looked over at the other wolves in the room who lounged in various places along the cool floor. “Would you mind trying it again?”
I was more than reluctant now that the strangeness of the action was pointed out. I didn't like feeling odd and under scrutiny for something I shouldn't be able to do. It made me extremely self-conscious. “Maybe it was just a fluke.”
“Then we have nothing to lose by testing it. Do you mind?” His tone was encouraging.
I couldn't say no to the eager expression on his face. “Fine, I'll try it.”
Freis came and stood in front of me. Her tail waved slowly from side to side as if she, too, was trying to encourage me. I held out my hand, hesitated briefly, then set it on top of her head.
Immediately, I could see the room from the white wolf's point of view. The moonlight that streamed in through the window illuminated it sharper than I saw with my own eyes; the lines in the marble stood out as bright streaks, like I had seen with Tyd.
The scents were strong, filling the room with a pattern of smell that seemed almost as tangible as the light. Andric's scent was one of the outdoors, of the mountains, the salt of the nearby ocean, and of the stone of the castle as if it permeated his very being.
I was surprised to smell myself, also, and to have my scent categorized in the wolf's mind as one of the plains, grassy, light, and with a slight touch of the plants I had often used for healing; I could also smell sunlight as the wolf classified it, warm, golden, and full of life. It made me miss the warm summer, and I was amazed that all of
the time I had spent outdoors in our country had actually branded itself on me the same way it had lightened my hair and tanned my skin. It was a part of me.
I could smell the horses we had ridden, and not just categorized as horses, but by each individual horse from which the scent came. They didn't have names in the wolf's mind, but they had shapes, outlines, and traits. It seemed that Pantim was known for stomping testily at the wolves if they got too close to his mare, while the dark horse Andric had ridden loved to run, and didn't care if they joined him.
I found that the wolves could also smell emotion, a fact which surprised me. Freis smelled my uncertainty, weariness, and a sharp loneliness that made me sad to have it revealed; Andric, on the other hand, had a sense of calm, of confidence, but also contained a small hint of uncertainty that I never would have guessed was there.
Freis changed her thoughts so that she showed me a memory from long ago. She was a scared, young wolf, muzzled and caged in a wire kennel with a blanket thrown over it that smelled of dirt and men. She had been captured from her country, a land of mountains with peaks so high they were lost in the clouds, and trees wider than a man was tall. They had cornered her in a ravine, and shot her with arrows that pricked like pins and made her fall asleep. When she awoke, she was in the cage tied down against the rocking of the ocean.
By the time they reached solid ground, she was sick and disoriented. The men who threw her food were scary and foreign, though I recognized Falen's scent among them, set apart now through better memories. She had been taken to what she now recognized as a small sitting room in the castle, and left to rest there until the stones under her paws started to turn light with the day.
When the blanket was removed, I looked into the face of a very young Prince Andric. His dark eyes were lit with curiosity, and his hair was shorter and wavy. It fell into his eyes and he brushed it away impatiently as he knelt to open the cage door.