Prisoner of the Crown

by Jeffe Kennedy

  I blinked my eyes against the sun’s fire, never having guessed at its power. It actually hurt to look at, much as I tried. It made my eyes burn as if I’d touched actual fire, tears leaking from the corners.

  “Are you all right, Jenna?” Harlan asked, sounding boyishly anxious.

  “Ask our hostess to fetch me a cool cloth, please.”

  He did, and as soon as she did, Petra going to assist, I said, “I’ve never seen it before, you know.”

  “Never seen what? You shouldn’t stare at the sun so—you’ll damage your eyes.”

  “Truly?” I whispered. “That’s how it feels. So amazing. It’s brighter than I could have imagined.”

  “You’ve never seen the sun,” Harlan said slowly, as if having a difficult time assimilating the information.

  It made me laugh. “Well, when would I have?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied, sounding annoyed, though maybe not with me. “I never gave it any thought. I never gave any thought to far too many things.”

  Petra returned with the cloth floating in a bowl of herbs, our hostess fluttering anxiously in her wake. Harlan led me to a chair, knelt at my side and held the bowl he took from Petra. “Give Her Imperial Highness some room,” he ordered. “She needs a moment of quiet.”

  They backed off to the other side of the room, leaving me bemused at how easily Harlan created a moment for us to talk. I could do this, too, leverage my rank while I had the ability to do so. I wrung out the cloth and dabbed at my face, presenting the image of a woman overcome by a dizzy spell.

  “Why are you here?” I asked into the scented cloth. The spiciness cleared my senses of emotional murk, and now my mind raced ahead. “Never mind. You must go back.”

  “I’m not leaving you with him,” Harlan replied, just as quietly, granite in his voice.

  I glanced at him, seeing the man he might become someday. But not today. He was a boy confronting powers he could never fight. “I’m married to him. Nothing can change that.”

  “Maybe that’s so, but you can escape to where he’ll never find you.”

  He looked so earnest, his gray eyes so clear and uncluttered by the fear that dragged at me. Such shining and foolish naivete. “To where?” I asked.

  He frowned a little. “I haven’t worked out the details, but I will.”

  “No you won’t.” I shook my head. “Because there is no place he won’t find me. Even if there were, I have no way to travel. I’m barefoot and helpless, and imperial law stands against me. Go home, Harlan, I beg you.”

  “I won’t.” The stubborn set of his jaw reminded me of Helva, bringing fresh tears to my eyes. “I’m not just meekly giving up without even trying. You’re a Konyngrr, too. Why won’t you at least fight your fate?”

  That struck me through the heart, because I hadn’t fought. Thought I couldn’t.

  “What’s this?” Rodolf boomed, entering the room with the castle lord. “My wife is unwell? My pearl, say it isn’t so.”

  I fixed a smile into place and stood to greet him, averting my eyes in a show of obedience. “It isn’t so. A momentary spell. I’m fine.”

  But I wasn’t. Because I began to hope for real escape, and the possibility hurt more than I could have ever thought.

  ~ 15 ~

  We traveled all that day, stopping only rarely, mostly at imperial guard stations hastily cleaned so the Imperial Princess could use facilities primarily intended for men. Women simply didn’t travel, one commander told me, fascinating me with his lack of polished manners. He apologized for the rudimentary amenities and reiterated several times what an honor I did them by gracing their remote outpost with my royal presence.

  If Rodolf’s entourage hadn’t outnumbered those loyal guards by five to one, I might have considered asking them to fight for me. From the grizzled commander to the bright-eyed youths, younger even than Harlan, they regarded me with such dazzled admiration I thought they’d do anything for me.

  Even die, which was what would happen. Though their outpost made a fine fortress, even if they could sequester me inside and hold off Rodolf, my father would muster enough of an army to break through. Those that survived any such battle would be dealt with as traitors. I’d heard enough gruesome stories that I couldn’t wish that on anyone at all.

  Except perhaps Rodolf.

  I amused myself with spinning that concept on the hours of riding in the confines of the carriage. It seemed even dimmer for the bright sun that greeted me every time we stopped. Every time I’d stare at it as long as I could, the glory of it leaving its impressions inside my eyes for me to marvel at behind my lids. Perhaps the custom of women averting their eyes came from protecting them against the sun’s blistering presence in the sky. But it burned male eyes, too, I’d learned, so perhaps not.

  Petra dozed, and so I contemplated how I might make Rodolf seem the traitor in my father’s eyes. The emperor would not bestir himself on my behalf for being used roughly. What a man did with his wife sexually was his business, I understood that well. That is the way of things. I belonged to Rodolf, his to feed, clothe, and protect—and in return he received the use of my body.

  But I knew Rodolf plotted with the Elskadyrs to take the throne. Difficult to guess what my mother’s deep laid plan might be, though surely it wouldn’t be exactly what Rodolf believed. If I could somehow spur him to act against the emperor’s interests, even unwittingly…

  I couldn’t yet think of a way, but it seemed with time the opportunity might arise. Perhaps I could cozen him into enjoying me enough not to kill me too soon. If I could get with that heir he wanted, that would help immensely. A distant part of me stood aside, observing that I’d found plenty of spine as I healed—and having had two glorious nights without Rodolf’s brutally humbling attentions. I plotted happily enough without the nightly reminder of how thoroughly he owned me.

  Still, if I came up with a good enough plan, I might be able to persuade Harlan to give up his impossible dream of somehow liberating me. I needed him to go home and the only way he’d do that was if he trusted that I’d survive on my own.

  Two things happened later that afternoon unfortunately; Rodolf seemed to notice my renewed spirits, and the clouds gathered, bringing snowfall with them. This far between major cities, snow accumulated on the road, slowing the wheeled vehicles. I listened to the shouts and orders, Rodolf sending men ahead to clear the way, but they seemed to be able to work only so fast, and not nearly enough to keep us at the needed pace to reach the castle that was our next destination.

  We would have to stay at an inn, Rodolf informed me. He climbed into the carriage, brusquely ordering Petra out into the snow, and still overwhelming the space with his bulk. “We have to take measures, my pearl,” he said, in that kind voice that boded terrible things, “in order to protect you as befitting your rank and station. Thus you’ll sleep in my room with me.”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice, all of my thoughts scattering before the shrieking winds of terror.

  “And it’s best if you’re not recognized,” he continued. “Wrists behind your back, my darling.”

  I obeyed without hesitation, having learned that one early, and at pain of the whip. He fastened my wedding bracelets together, then offered me a large silver ball. I knew this one, too, and obediently opened my mouth to hold it on my tongue while he fastened one of my scarves over it to hold it in place. “Just in case you’re tempted to speak to anyone,” he whispered in my ear. “I feel I’ve been neglecting you and you have gotten a rebellious gleam in your eye. I wouldn’t want you to contemplate anything foolish.”

  He covered me with a heavy cloak, plain and unadorned. Then took a knife and cut my klút so my breasts were bared beneath. “A bit of insurance,” he explained, kneading them painfully. “If you struggle at all, the cloak will fall open and show the imperial tits to all the world. You don’t want that,
do you?”

  I shook my head, humiliated to be racked with shuddering fear. I’d promise him anything at that moment. An entire night in his rooms. Tears spilled out of me at the prospect.

  “Weep if you must. You know I love that evidence of my effect on you. Maybe I should show them all how the emperor’s daughter grovels for me. One day—not far in the future—it will be your father, begging for my mercy. Maybe I’ll let you watch as you’ve brought me closer to the end game. But be silent, or I won’t be so kind as I have been.”

  I was silent. I walked barefoot through the snow under the shroud of my cloak, the hood tied over my face so I had to be led, into the inn and up the stairs to the grandest room, the innkeeper promised. Though not fit for a noble lady, he apologized profusely.

  Rodolf dismissed him, saying it would be fine. In a parody of caring, he let me warm my feet before he started on me. After all, he said, it wouldn’t do for me to lose any toes, as frostburn was so unsightly. Certain marks and bruises served to enhance my beauty, but he would never see his pearl disfigured. He also waited until the servants—not Petra; I had no idea where she’d gotten to—brought food and wine, before he locked the door and unwrapped me.

  I never did eat, as he never removed the gag. No sense inspiring foolish heroics in anyone, Rodolf explained, in that very practical tone. My little brother, for example, seemed unduly concerned that I wasn’t happy. Apparently I needed some reminders about discipline and presenting the proper front, as an imperial princess should.

  That night of lessons, conducted in whispers and whimpers, was the worst of all.

  * * * *

  Rodolf left me in the morning to breakfast with the men, sending Petra to tend me. With the foresight of the seraglio, she arranged for plenty of extra water to sluice the mostly dried blood away. She hid me behind a screen for the inn servants to bring in my trunk of travel clothes, and then the additional water, though she dumped the soiled water out the window, and burned the bloodstained clothes and cloths.

  She also brought in my pipe and plied me with opos and mjed, both, and I clung to the numbing succor without another thought for keeping my mind clear. That obviously only led to pain. With the help of opos, I could present a dreamy smile for Harlan.

  And it helped to feel the claws of terror ease. As Petra carefully wrapped me in a swathing klút, I watched her. “Where did you spend last night?” I asked.

  She started, and I realized I hadn’t yet spoken to her. “His Highness King Rodolf said you had no need of me. I apologize, Your Imperial Highness.”

  “Not that. I knew that. Where did you sleep?”

  She averted her gaze, high pink on her cheeks. “With Alf, in Rodolf’s guard. He paid for a room for us.”

  “Ah.” I mulled that over, wondering if she’d gone cheerfully or if that had been the price of a bed. One that I should have bought for her, had I been… Don’t think about it. Still. “I don’t want you paying your passage with your body,” I said. “Take some pearls.”

  She started to laugh and smothered in, controlling herself. “You are kind and generous, Your Imperial Highness, but—I know the outside world is new to you and thus mean no criticism in any way—but women cannot handle payment.”

  Of course. I did know that, somewhere in the back of my mind. Rodolf should see to Petra, but I couldn’t see myself asking him for that. Though I should. She was my responsibility. If I asked, however… I began to shake and took a deep toke from the pipe to steady myself.

  “It’s all right, Your Imperial Highness,” Petra said, tears leaking from her eyes. She took the pipe and refilled it generously, giving it back to me. “I like Alf. Don’t worry for me.”

  “But you weep,” I pointed out, feeling dreamier.

  “For you,” she replied softly. “My tears are for you.” She bit her lip and dashed them away, huddling in anticipation of reprimand. My mother would likely have had her punished for daring to pity a noble. Such was my extremity that I felt only gratitude in that moment.

  “Then he’s not … cruel to you?” I asked.

  Her eyes flew to mine, wide and earnest. “Oh no. Most men are not like, ah…”

  “My esteemed husband,” I finished for her on a long sigh. But hearing that helped in a way. Though I’d already known it. Ada speaking of her Freddy with obvious affection. The rekjabrel who came to the seraglio because they’d fallen in love with certain men in the Imperial Palace and tended to those men, and them only.

  Shouts from below, the sounds of horses and carriage wheels. “Can you be ready to go, Your Imperial Highness?” Petra asked, sounding not at all sure. “I can say you need more time.”

  No. I wanted to leave that horrible room. Not that it was the place’s fault, but I wanted to be in the open air again. Maybe seeing the sun would burn some of the long night away. “I’m ready. Is the sun shining?” It didn’t look like it from where I stood, and Rodolf had forbidden me from going near the windows.

  “No, Your Imperial Highness.” Petra brought the cloak, warm from the fire, and gently wrapped me in it, pulling the cowl deeply around my face, but not tying it. “Keep your head bowed and no one will guess it isn’t tied,” she whispered, as if we could be overheard. Then more loudly, “It’s cloudy and snowing.”

  “Perhaps it will clear.” I let her lead me out the door and down the steps.

  “Perhaps so, my lady,” she replied. But I could tell she didn’t think so.

  * * * *

  I slept the day away in a dreamy fog. Petra kept the brazier hot, and the opos and mjed at hand. An advantage of not sleeping all night was that I napped for long and depthless stretches, my dreams bloody and full of pain, but the opos muted them. Like the blank ivory sky and the endless snowfall, muffling everything.

  We still traveled slowly, though a bit faster than we had when it began to snow. Rodolf had men working for miles in advance of our entourage, clearing the road, so Petra said during one of my short waking spells. If I had not been born in midwinter, we would not have encountered such difficulties, Rodolf had told me the night before. One of my many flaws.

  When we stopped at a guard outpost to use the facilities, my body had stiffened so that I stumbled stepping out of the carry chair. Several guards leapt forward to steady me, Harlan first among them. He gave me a long look, but said nothing, only offered me his arm to lean on while I shuffled to yet another hastily cleaned facility.

  “I’m arranging to ride with you,” he murmured to me, when I emerged and Petra took her turn. Women first, and then the men would have their opportunity. “Can your girl be trusted?”

  I shook my head. Too much risk, despite Petra’s sympathy. “Mother gave her to me.” He nodded in crisp understanding, and I gathered my blurred wits. “But Harlan, don’t. You must go.”

  He patted my hand, smiling at Petra as she emerged. “Let’s get you back in the carriage, Sister.”

  He flanked the carry chair, telling one of the men to take care of his horse. “I don’t know how you all stand this cold,” he complained. “I’m riding in the carriage a while.”

  The men hooted and hollered, calling him worse than a female. He bore it with good grace, then made a mention of life at the Imperial Palace that cut off the derision, the men abruptly reminded of Harlan’s rank as an Imperial Prince, no matter his age or apparent weakness.

  He helped me into the carriage, bundling the fur blankets around me with care. Studying the pipe and chest of opos leaves, he made a face, but set them carefully aside, to make room for Petra. She seemed greatly perplexed, but naturally wouldn’t question him. When she moved to prepare my pipe, however, he stopped her. “Leave off that for now. The smoke bothers my eyes.”

  Not like him, to be so preemptory, little as I knew him in truth. Despite his protestations of being cold, he refused the furs Petra offered him, and folded his arms, settling back and app
earing to doze. I did, too, enough of the opos still in me to make me drowsy. I curled up on the seat and slept.

  A while later, the carriage halted, and I blinked against the heaviness of my eyelids, sitting up. The door opened and Alf stood there, giving Petra a cocky grin. “Bring a blanket and come ride with me, little dove. If Her Imperial Highness permits, of course.”

  Petra looked to me with hope bright in her eyes, and I waved her on. Harlan seemed to be asleep, though I noted Alf asked only my permission. My brother played a dangerous game and the price would come out of my skin. We started up again and I reached for my pipe.

  Harlan’s eyes snapped open, fully alert. “Leave it,” he said quietly. “I need your mind sharp.”

  ~ 16 ~

  I confess I nearly hurled the thing at him. Who cared what he needed? I needed the opos to drown out the pain, and the crawling terror of what might next happen. Especially if Rodolf suspected, which he would. Oh, he would.

  “You have to not talk to me,” I explained, trying to be clear and calm. It had sounded so easy to promise when Rodolf drilled the words into me.

  Harlan only snorted, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knees. “I know he has you terrorized, but I’m an Imperial Prince and I outrank Rodolf. If I want to ride with my beloved sister, I will.”

  Tears spilled out in a helpless wave, and I didn’t even try to stop them. “It’s not you he’ll punish.”

  Harlan went very still, but fury rose behind his solemn gray eyes. “What does he do to you?” he asked quietly, with an intensity beyond his years.

  I laughed a little, trying to muffle the hysterical edge, but he clearly caught it. “There are things you don’t discuss with your baby brother,” I managed.

  “I’m not a child, Jenna.”

  “Nor are you a man,” I retorted.

  Rather than becoming annoyed, he tapped his fingers together, studying his hands. “I’m aware of that. If I could add to my years at this moment, immediately wish onto myself the muscle and fighting ability I might gain in the years ahead, I’d sacrifice anything for that. You should know that.”