Thief Prince

by Cheree Alsop

  Andric turned to look at me. I pretended not to notice and instead concentrated on a particularly rugged outcropping of rock that looked like the claws of some ancient creature stretching toward the sky.

  When I didn't turn, I heard him breathe out forcibly as if he had been holding his breath as he contemplated what I hoped was my emotionless profile. “You really do care, don't you?”

  Something in his tone made me turn. His brow was creased and his left fist was clenched on the parapet. “I shouldn't have brought you here, any of you. This was a bad idea.”

  In a move that surprised me even as I did it, I reached for his fist and opened it, emptying the snow he clenched onto the ground. “It wasn't a bad idea, just one no one understands. I'm trying, but even I am having a hard time of it.” He didn't answer. I felt a thin line across the back of his hand and turned it over to get a better look. A white scar ran from the base of his wrist to the beginning of his middle finger. “How did you get this?”

  “Breizan attack on the castle,” he replied, his words soft.

  I shook my head. “I don't know what I'd do if that happened while we were here.”

  “You did marvelously at the pass. Someone would have gotten hurt if it wasn't for you.”

  I frowned. “You and some of your soldiers did get hurt.”

  He nodded. “You know what I mean. You did well and shouldn't worry so much about how things are going to be in the future.”

  My eyes filled with tears again. “They didn't tell me how Rory's doing.”

  Andric hesitated a moment, then said, “I know you worry about him every day you’re apart.”

  I dropped his hand and traced random shapes in the snow. “I worry so much, and their not telling me isn't protecting me. It's so much worse not knowing.”

  He let out his breath again slowly. “You know what they're doing, don't you?”

  “No.”

  He set his hand in the snow, watching the way the soft white powder formed around it. “They're treating you like a daughter, not a Crown.”

  I shook my head. “I don't get the difference.”

  “Do you think they would give Rory an update if you were in the same situation he is?” He asked the question quietly because we both knew the answer. Of course they would.

  Andric gave me a moment of silence for the implications to sink in. A Crown would need to know about her sibling’s failing health; a sister would be protected against her brother’s illness. My parents were treating me as their daughter, not a Crown Princess. It made me feel better to know that my parents still thought of Rory as the Crown of Zalen. A weight lessened in my chest. “You should come to the Kasans' house,” I said. My tone must still have been a bit more defiant than usual because a slight smile tugged at his lips.

  “You trying to prove something?” he asked.

  “Just that the Crowns need to realize it means more to the Kasans that you're there than it does to them that you're not. Their parents are trying to turn them against you. Changing plans would just make them more suspicious and destroy all you've accomplished.”

  “You think I've accomplished something?” This time, Andric was the one staring out at the mountains and carefully avoiding my gaze.

  I nodded. “Just wait. This will all be worth it in the end.”

  Chapter 16

  Before we left for the Kasans' house, I wrote a letter back to my parents. I told them how much I missed them, and reassured them that things were still alright here. I then asked Father pointedly what involvement Zalen had had in Antor's present condition, and if he knew what the other countries had done as well. I told him honestly that the information would help me be better able to handle the situation here. I also begged both he and Mother for word of Rory, letting them know that it was harder not to hear anything at all.

  I gave the letter to Ayd on my way to the stables to help Drade ready the horses for the ride. Trae whinnied when he saw me and trotted over to bump his head against my chest. I laughed and rubbed his ears.

  “His leg's getting better,” Drade reassured me. He chuckled. “He's jealous that you're using a different horse.”

  “Don't worry, Trae,” I told the animal. “As soon as you're better, we'll go riding.” As I ran my hand through his thick, tangled mane, an image of racing headlong through a long, winding valley full of huge, twisted black boulders came to my mind. I glanced up at Drade, worried that he knew his horse was talking to me.

  He gave me another friendly smile, his eyes sharp. “It's a beautiful valley, one of our favorites. When he's healed, we'll have to go there.”

  I nodded with a knot in my stomach. “Drade, I. . . .”

  “I know,” he cut me off. “Don't worry. I won't say anything.”

  I thanked him gratefully and left, my heart pounding. If anyone else knew? I shuddered away from the thought and made my way to where the others waited.

  Andric wasn't there, but I took comfort in the fact that his horse, Tereg, was gone as well. Drade had saddled a blond mare for me to ride, and she stepped gracefully through the snow as though she was the princess. She didn't send me any images when I ran my hands through her soft fur, but I could feel her contentment and let myself absorb as much of it as I could.

  The celebration at the Kasans' house was noisy and full of cheer. So many Antorans showed up that their neighbors opened their houses as well. They served simple but well-seasoned food, and there was plenty of spiced pumpkin milk and hot chocolate to keep the chill off us as we danced in the snow to lively tunes.

  The Crowns grumbled at Prince Andric's appearance, but they got over it quickly enough when they realized their attitude wouldn’t chase him away. He simply treated them with perfect respect and though he didn't converse with them for more than a few minutes at a time, the conversations were civil.

  Everyone was exhausted but happy by the time we went home that night. The festivities had chased away most of the solemnity brought on by our parents' letters insomuch that the boys actually invited the Prince to ride home with us instead of later like he had planned in order to give the Crowns their space. Andric rode near the head of the group, and though he didn't speak to anyone, he threw me a slight smile when they weren’t looking.

  ***

  The next few days passed uneventfully while I waited for my next letter to arrive from Zalen. Both the Antorans and Crowns were surprised when I had the girls join me at the morning practices. Andric, though, was as smooth about it as he was with everything else. He handed us a couple of practice swords that were lying nearby, and some of the Antorans graciously fell to the back to give us a spot near the front of the lines.

  When the boys saw we were accepted so easily, they came out as well. I teased them about fearing we would become better than they were, but I think they could tell how worried I was about the upcoming duel and took it in good humor. They might have laughed a bit loud when Tisha asked if Andric had anything lighter than the wooden swords, and scoffed when Brynna kept tripping over the long dress she had chosen to wear that morning, but everyone took the jesting good-naturedly and some of the Antorans even took time afterward to help the girls with their stances and grips.

  When the birds finally came back with responses to our last letters, I accepted mine from Ayd with a nervous pit in my stomach. We had just finished morning practice and took the letters to our rooms to read as we changed for the day's activities.

  I scanned the letter and saw that Father had indeed answered my questions about Zalen's involvement with Antor, but that didn't matter to me. I turned the letter over and saw that both he and Mother had written briefly about Rory.

  “Rory's condition is slowly getting worse. We didn't want to worry you because there's really nothing you can do from there,” Mother wrote, “Don't worry, honey, everything is going to be alright. Rory will write you when he gets feeling better.”

  A lump formed in my throat. I just had to know. Without thinking past an immediate course of act
ion, I left my room and ran down the stairs. The steward opened the door and I dashed out across the snow to the hawkery. I was glad to see Ayd there. He stared at me as I caught my breath and wondered how to phrase my request.

  “May I. . . May I talk to the bird that brought my letter from Zalen?” I asked him. I was aware of how the words sounded when they left my mouth.

  His brow lowered slightly. “I think the real question is, can you talk to the bird,” he replied pointedly.

  At my nod, his eyes widened a bit. “I have to touch the bird, I think.” I wasn't sure of my own abilities. Andric had pretty much implied that it shouldn't even work, and I wasn't positive it would.

  Ayd looked over his shoulder and a beautiful brown and black hawk flew over to land on the perch closest to us. The bird cocked its head and regarded me speculatively with golden eyes. “Go ahead,” Ayd said with quiet curiosity. “His name is Rush.”

  I reached my hand out toward the bird, then hesitated.

  “Don't worry, Princess, your secret is safe with me,” the Hawkmaster reassured me. I smiled at him gratefully and he grinned, gave a short bow, and left us in privacy.

  The hawk clicked his beak and waited for me to move. I shook off my sudden nerves and set a hand gently on his back. The feathers felt soft under my fingers, and it was a minute before anything came to my mind.

  Ayd must have told Rush why I was here, or at least why he guessed I was here, for the hawk's first vision was of our palace as seen from above. The image was amazingly bright and clear, the colors and lines sharper than I had ever seen them. I could make out the minute textures of the palace walls even from so far above. He dove and it grew closer at a surprising pace. At the last minute, the hawk banked and soared up to a third story window which I recognized with a quickening heartbeat as Rory's.

  The window was closed, but when the hawk rapped on it with his beak it opened immediately as though someone inside had been waiting close by. The shutters parted to reveal my father. He looked tired but hopeful as he swung the glass inward to allow the bird entrance. A small bowl of water was waiting on the table next to the window, and my father pushed it closer so the bird could drink while he untied the letter I had sent.

  The bird took a quick drink and glanced sideways so he could see my mother sitting next to Rory's bed. Her hair was undone; she wore a robe and looked as though she had spent several nights without sleep. My heart gave a painful thump at the sight of them both, but it wasn't my parents I was anxious to see.

  As though Rush knew all along that I would come to him for this memory, he turned to stare directly at Rory's bed against the far wall. My heart slowed. The hawk's keen eyes took in the shallow rise and fall of the blanket pulled up to Rory's chest. A sheen of sweat stood out across his pale forehead, tangling his dark brown hair. His mouth opened and he moaned softly, weakly, as a shudder wracked his entire body. Mother rose and bathed his forehead with a damp washcloth; tears slid slowly down her cheeks.

  I dropped my hand and the memory vanished swiftly. Rush gave a soft sound that I thought was meant to be reassuring. I smoothed the feathers I had ruffled though I couldn't see his back through my tears. He nuzzled my hand with his beak. I whispered thank you, then turned and ran out of the building.

  I was wrong. It was worse knowing, so much worse to see my brother wasting away to nothing with my parents standing by helpless to do anything against the sickness that destroyed him. I stumbled through the door a steward kindly opened and ran to the stairs before he could ask any questions. Trying not to think, I ran down the hallway and up the next flight of stairs. I reached the roof sooner than I expected and opened the door to the biting cold that I embraced as a welcome distraction from the pain that tore at my heart.

  Barely minutes passed before the door opened behind me. I wasn't surprised when I turned to see Andric there. He looked concerned, worried, as if the reports he had been given didn't prepare him for my tears. He took one step toward me and I buried my face against his chest. “Kit,” he said quietly; his arms hesitated, then closed around me.

  “He's dying, Andric. Rory is dying and I'm not there with him,” I sobbed. “He's supposed to be the Crown, not me. He loves the people, he cares so much, and he always knows what to do.” The tears came faster now and were absorbed by Andric's soft shirt. “He can't die, Andric. He's my brother. He's supposed to get better.”

  “I wish you could be there,” Andric replied softly, his voice full of guilt.

  I shook my head against his chest. “It wouldn't matter. I can't stop the sickness, no one can. They've tried everything.” Another sob forced its way past the knot in my throat. “I just don't want him to leave me. I can't do this alone. He's the one who was meant for all of this.”

  Andric spoke quietly into my hair. “Write to him, Kit. Tell him how much he means to you. You know that your parents will read it to him. It will mean a lot to him to hear from you, and you'll be able to tell him what he means to you.” He breathed softly, stirring my hair. A hitch caught his voice as he continued as if experience echoed in his words, “Everyone deserves that, and now might be the time he needs it.”

  Andric's words made sense to me, and as he said them I felt a pressing need in my chest to do just that. I nodded and he stepped back and waited quietly for me to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “You're right,” I said in a tremulous voice. “I'll write him right now. Do you think Ayd could send the letter immediately?”

  Andric nodded. “I'll see to it.” He studied me a second, his eyes unreadable. “Will you be alright?”

  I nodded even though I wasn't sure myself.

  His eyes tightened in concern. “I'll meet you back here.”

  I nodded again and left the roof, intent on my room.

  Tisha saw me in the hallway and took in my tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked quickly. She gave me a hug without waiting for my answer. “It's not so bad here,” she said. “I think our parents don't understand because they aren't here.”

  “I know,” I tried to reassure her, sniffing back more tears before they could betray me. “Things will be alright.”

  She smiled and walked me to my room. “Are you going to sew with us tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. “I've never been good at stitching. I think I'll head to the forge to see how the swords are coming along.”

  “Alright,” Tisha replied with a grin. “Please check on mine. I think Smithy Hensas is going to be upset I haven't been by in the past couple of days.”

  “I'll let him know you asked me to check up,” I said as I opened my door.

  “Thanks, Kit.” She paused. “And remember that you always have someone to talk if you ever need it.”

  “Thanks,” I told her with a rush of gratitude.

  She smiled and continued down the hall.

  I shouldn't have been surprised to see a quill and fine paper already waiting on my nightstand. Andric's servants were quick and efficient. I smiled slightly to see that Kimber had also left a small plate with two pastries saved from breakfast. I took a bite to calm myself, than picked up the quill and dipped it in the waiting ink bottle.

  The words came as quickly as I could write them. Before I knew it, I had already filled the first sheet and part of a second. There were a few splotches, and the writing wasn't as elegant as my penmanship tutor would have liked, but I was satisfied with the final product inasmuch as I could read it through the tears that spilled down to stain the pages.

  Kimber waited at the door when I opened it, ready to take the letter to Ayd so that it could be sent right away. She didn't question my tears, and only asked discretely if she could get me anything when she returned from the hawkery. I thanked her and declined, grateful that I didn't have to give the letter to Ayd and explain myself.

  I made my way back to the roof and my heart lifted when I opened the door to see Andric waiting for me with an armful of blankets. His breath fogged in the air and his cheeks were touched with
red. I wondered how long he had waited. I was grateful when he didn't ask any questions. Instead, he wrapped a blanket around me and led me to the parapets overlooking the hawkery. A few minutes later, the hawkery door opened and Ayd brought a bird outside already harnessed with my letter strapped to his back.

  “Won't Rush be tired?” I asked when I recognized him.

  Andric shook his head. “Ayd said the bird requested to be sent personally when he found out where the letter was going. Rush wouldn't ask if he couldn't handle the assignment.”

  We both watched in silence as Ayd checked the harness one last time and then held out his arm. Rush spread his massive wings and rose gracefully into the air. He flew as high as the castle rooftop where we waited, circled once in the air above us, then winged his way south toward the black mountains. We watched as the bird turned into a small speck and then disappeared in the distance.

  “He'll be there within two days,” Andric said. “Rory will be glad to hear from you.”

  “I wish I could fly with him,” I replied. My heart quaked at the thought of the letter arriving too late. Fresh tears came to my eyes.

  “I know, and I regret that more than you can imagine,” Andric said.

  The sorrow in his voice made me turn. The Prince wouldn't meet my gaze. “If anything happens to your brother while you're gone, I hold myself personally responsible.”

  I shook my head. “If anything happens to him, it would happen whether I'm there or not. There's nothing I can do about it.” The truth brought a sob to my chest. I fought back the emotions, took a blanket from Andric, and spread it across the snow by one of the walls. I sank down onto it, exhausted from the sorrow that pounded behind my eyes. I pulled the other blanket close around my shoulders and wiped my cheeks on the corner. “He's been there all my life, Andric. I don't know how to think of a world without him. I feel so alone.” The sob finally broke free, and I buried my head in my hands as my body shook.