by J. M. Miller
The place was empty, save for a few drunken heads, most already well past their nightly limit, leaning on their tabletops or on the bar. Haidee had secured a table at the back where Caulden and Anja were taking their seats. The princess’ guards stood between two other empty tables in the back, while Leint moved toward the bar and Haidee remained posted off to the side of Caulden’s table. I went to join her, wanting to hear what she still needed to tell me.
“Would you like something to drink?” I heard Caulden ask Anja as I neared. “I promise the mead here is delicious, better than any other place in town. And I am sorry that it’s less occupied, but I’d much rather hear you speak tonight,” he babbled.
I stepped beside Haidee, shoulder to shoulder, about a table length from the babbler. The night would be longer than most others, filled with compliments and gushy courtship questions I cared not to hear.
“It was him,” Haidee whispered, not bothering to look at me. “When you weren’t stationed at dinner, he found out what had happened—that the queen forbade you from the Trials and how you reacted when the captain gave you the news.”
My heart knocked in my chest while I watched Caulden stand from the table.
Haidee adjusted her grip on the hilt at her side—a reflex at his movement. “He wanted you here tonight.”
“Vala.” My name from his lips startled me, but I stepped to his side with the usual urgency. “Help me with the drinks?”
I didn’t respond. I doubted I could utter the words even if I’d had them. Why ask me when the barkeep would have brought the drinks himself?
He waited until we were at the bar to speak again, ordering first. “Four meads.” The barkeep went about the order. “I needed to tell you how sorry I am. I will speak to my mother tomorrow.” He kept his face forward, and I stood still at his side, not daring look at him while I could feel sets of eyes upon us. “I find it ridiculous that she wouldn’t want you to go with me should I travel. You’re invaluable.” The barkeep placed the tankards down in front of us. “We can talk more at another time, I hope. Take the other two tankards to her guards. I don’t much care for them. Maybe this will spill them from their horses on the return trip.” I grinned behind my mask then stifled my mirth before grabbing the meads and following Caulden as he added, “I’ll owe you, Haidee, and Leint some of your own at another time. Tonight, I need your clear thoughts.”
“For your men,” Caulden said as he approached Anja, who eyed me as I handed her men the tankards. “I think they’d like to taste a drink of this caliber.”
“Thank you, Highness,” the men said respectfully after the princess nodded her approval.
I moved back to Haidee, this time keeping my back to her and facing the rear door, leaving no room for surprises.
“This tastes so nice,” the princess commented after sipping her mead. “But I still prefer your wine.”
“Shall I replace it?” Caulden asked.
“Oh, no, thank you. This is fine for now.”
“It’s probably best for you to drink it slowly. It is very potent.”
“I will, thank you.” After a silent beat her voice quieted. “I’m curious, who is your guard with the mask? Was she injured grotesquely?”
I felt Haidee stiffen behind me, felt the nervous look from Caulden that I couldn’t even see, and I took a heavy breath, awaiting his answer as eagerly as the princess.
“Her name is Vala. She was burned and abandoned as a child and raised close with me. She is one of the finest on the Guard.”
“Oh? Then she is the one some traders have spoken of. Only gossip from bored sailors, I suppose, but they claimed she’s been cursed by those goddesses no longer worshiped, or maybe something more. Something impossible. Something like magic.”
Caulden laughed. While full and soft and jovial enough, I knew the tone that lay beneath. He was bothered by the rumors of me. “Some also gossip that the fog will soon disappear and the wind will once again carry a dragon’s breath.”
“I suppose it does sound silly.” She laughed lightly, gentle like a smooth melody. “My mother swears there have been changes in recent years, though, since around the time of our birth.”
“Yes, well, I think things just get better as time goes on, the further we are from The Final War and everything that happened so long ago.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I apologize if I offended you.”
“No, you haven’t offended me. Curiosity is understandable, especially when you’ve never visited here. The truth is, many fear Vala. Her skin is not soft like ours, no. But she is skilled and true.”
Those words were directed toward me. An excuse for the princess’ open inquiry. A subtle apology. There had been so many in one day, I was growing sick of hearing them. Despite an urge to ignore him, I shifted my stance in acknowledgment anyway, the way I’d done a millions times to communicate with him through the years.
Silence took hold of their table for a while, long enough to hear the bottoms of their tankards tap the table a couple of times.
“Tell me,” the princess started a little tentatively, “what is it that you like? There was only more talk of trade between our mothers at dinner, what they each might gain whether or not we … decide on a joined future. But I’d like to know your thoughts.”
“My thoughts?” Caulden asked.
“Anything. What you like. What you believe.”
“I think about Garlin’s people. I believe in treating them fairly no matter what our ancestors chose.”
“I understand. My mother wasn’t very considerate when bringing up our histories. I want you to know that I don’t harbor the same resentment for such an antiquated stigma on your people. I do, however, think that history is important. It is what I enjoy thinking about most, actually. The older tales most of all. Do you know many of them?”
“Around the time of The Final War? Goddesses and dragons, faeries and witches? Sirens?” Caulden shouted the last word and heads shot up at the salute to the tavern name with half-hearted calls of “Aye!” mixed with large belches. Caulden and the princess both laughed. “Is that what you mean?”
“All of the kingdoms during that time, yes. I think there’s a lot to learn, from the information we have and what we have yet to see. We’d be fools not to educate ourselves properly, damning ourselves to repeat it all. I’m just curious as to what you’ve learned, here on this island, separated from the rest of the world. No disrespect, I simply don’t know what your people may have brought with them or handed down to teach the histories when they relocated to this new place.”
Caulden let out a pleased sigh after taking a drink of his mead. “I’ve learned some, but I bet you have far more information, from that time and well before. Maybe you can share with me. Teach me.”
She released another melodic laugh. “I doubt I’m the best teacher, but I’d love to share with you.”
“Please,” Caulden prompted.
“We know there was never entirely peace throughout the kingdoms, even before the war. The division between the magic of Vaenen and Craw and our human kingdoms was large enough to make conditions uneasy at best. But the majority of Vaenen and Craw’s inhabitants held no desire to take what us lowly humans had. They had an entire continent to our west that curved far into the north where many of the faerie families lived. Craw at our border, where most of the witches and underlings dwelt, had a lot of turbulent fights. The fae and creatures who tolerated us the most also lived there, some were said to even be allies, coming to our defenses if any turmoil had arisen. We were curious as to what loomed farther beyond, sending people to explore, often never to return.
“From what I’ve learned throughout my studies, change happened when the northern fae families began to war over territories. One triumphed over the rest, taking control after he had slain his own family and anyone who stood against him. Izaris was powerful, but that alone wouldn’t have been enough to conquer so many. He was said to be cunning as well as magnificently h
andsome. Some stories claim those traits were the reason he was able to ensnare two of the three Disir—the guardian goddesses of our world who many of us had worshiped for thousands of years. With two goddesses at his side, he held an unfathomable amount of power, controlling many of the Vaenen creatures, choosing those who died in battle, stripping their magic for himself.”
“I’ve learned some of the same,” Caulden replied. “Only there are a lot of holes about the aftermath. Since our people left before the end of the war, we’ve only speculated about the demise of Izaris and of magic.”
He was keeping his information close, not fully trusting the princess. I smirked at the realization. How much he was hiding, though, I did not know. His schooling had been widely different from my own, and it involved things he didn’t care much to discuss during off time—when we were more inclined to interact freely. He wasn’t only learning history but preparing to be a king as well, learning about trade dealings with Islain, traditions, customs, managing our people and the land. Also preparing for this day, to sit at the same table as a princess he might wed. All while I stood outside closed doors, ensuring his safety.
“We don’t have as much information as we’d like. When the end came, it was fast, as if magic of the entire world had been snuffed out with a single breath. The only trace of it remained at the borders where we could no longer cross, land or sea. Our lands were left with relief, confusion, and scattered remains, of our own and theirs alike. Dragons. Faeries. Witches. Many of their bones remain still.”
“Dragon bones?”
“Yes,” she replied, and I could hear the smile in her voice at Caulden’s interest. “I’d love to show you.”
“So for all these years no one’s been able to cross into Craw or Vaenen with no idea why or if magic is truly gone from those lands?”
“Through the years, our people have traveled along the edge, land and sea. The fog that lies at the border is too thick, like a wall hiding everything beyond. It’s the only magic left that we know of. Any attempts to cross have led to sickness or death. If any other magic had lived, someone would have found a way to cross.”
A loud thud beside their table captured all of our attention. The skinnier of the princess’ guards had collapsed to the floor, an empty tankard clattering beside his head.
Caulden laughed as the other guard bent forward to help his comrade, only to stumble himself. The guard looked upon the princess with wavering, apologetic eyes.
“What did you do to my men?”
Caulden’s laugh subsided enough to say, “It seems your men enjoyed the mead, Princess. Maybe a tad too quickly.”
Indeed. Caulden had wanted a laugh tonight, and he had surely gotten one.
With my hand tightened on the hilt of my sword, I surveyed the rest of the tavern. Most of the other patrons were snoring, heads pressed to their tables and the bar, completely oblivious to what had happened. The doors remained closed. I turned to Haidee and received a gleeful smirk.
What we hadn’t expected was the princess to join in with Caulden’s laughter, but she did. Her tone rang loudly through the room, letting loose as if it had been repressed into that soft melodic version for years.
After another few moments, she settled, a few dainty coughs sputtering into even breaths. “We should probably return to the chateau. It’s been a very long day.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Caulden agreed. I turned, watching him tilt his tankard fully, draining it before setting it back down. “Haidee.”
“Your Highness?” she replied, already prepared to go.
“Please help Leint move those who are incapacitated into the carriage. The princess and I will ride their horses.”
Haidee nodded then walked to Leint to move the drunken guards. I stepped hurriedly outside, checking for any threats and alerting the carriage driver. As Haidee and Leint hauled the other guards into the carriage, a bird’s caw sounded over the dying noise of the crowd down The Row. I looked at the edge of the tavern, spotting the raven as it landed atop an empty hitching post. Its head turned, studying me as it had inside the prison cell.
Haidee and Leint finished with the guards as Caulden and Anja exited the tavern. They began to untie their horses when the raven cawed again.
“Is that a …” Leint’s surprised words dropped off.
“Vala?” Haidee called to me in a worried whisper, her eyes on the raven.
I focused harder on the bird, past the slight shimmer of starlight on its inky feathers, through the darkness and fog. A shadow moved.
“Haidee, take them,” I called back to her, unsheathing my sword. “Now.”
NINE
Haidee wasted no time, signaling Prince Caulden and Princess Anja to mount their horses. I was instantly thankful that they had switched places with the drunken guards. Caulden was better off on horseback—not contained in a box to be an easy target—and the princess’ horse would follow his back to the chateau whether she was a skilled rider or not.
They galloped off, Leint and Haidee guarding and guiding from the rear, guaranteeing the solid pace. The carriage left last, trailing far behind, an obstacle to help block should anyone give chase.
“Show yourself,” I demanded, stepping closer as I stared behind the curious raven where I’d seen the movement, watching the immobile outline of what was definitely a hooded, cloaked man.
With such little light, it was impossible to see more. But when the figure suddenly turned, the hood moved, revealing a small glimpse of his face that, while still shadowed, appeared to be smooth and of a lighter shade. Not charred. He leapt into a run, cloak billowing behind him as he followed the path the prince had taken. Coils of fog swirled in his wake, swallowing his figure. The raven squawked in protest at the movement, lifting up from its perch and flying up and away into the night. I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter and set off after The Shadow, refusing to give him another opportunity to get close to the prince.
He sprinted through the now sparse crowd of wandering people on the darkened road, easily dodging the bodies with heads too clouded to notice or care about our chase. There was no denying his speed. I had to stow my sword, saving my arm strength for a potential fight. His form darted past the fisherman’s shop where I’d hitched the mare. Not knowing if he’d remain on foot, I decided it was best to continue on horseback. After losing only a few moments, I was back on his trail and gaining ground quickly. Hearing the hooves pound at his back, his body took a swift turn through an alley and then another, taking all options to throw me off his course. As he navigated through the smaller roads closer to the water and docks of the cove, his main direction kept aim at Chateau Road. Without a horse, there was no way he could catch them, but I wouldn’t gamble with Caulden’s fate by abandoning the chase. It would only give him reason to return, to try again another day.
He turned and disappeared between another set of buildings, so I slowed the mare and cut the turn the same as I had all the others. Only he hadn’t continued running as he had before. Right after I made the turn, his body leapt at me, dropping from the ledge of a high window. There was no time to react. A hard body collided with mine, knocking me from the mare with enough force to steal my breath. Both of us tumbled into the packed dirt below but were up with swords drawn at nearly the same speed and far more grace.
“Who are you? Why are you after Prince Caulden?” I asked while advancing, pushing the words out in the fiercest tone I could muster despite the sharp ache in my chest.
A rasping breath sounded from beneath his hood, pinched with shock or pain. “Who are you?” he asked in return, retreating the steps I’d advanced.
I moved again, more questions blinding my immediate thought to kill. “Tell me who you are! Who sent you here?” I lunged with a wide swing of my blade, engaging but not intending much damage.
He turned and lifted his blade, blocking my attack. A hard grunt followed and then a hiss. His blade kept lowering the slightest bit between hits, as if it wer
e a struggle to lift even though his expert parrying suggested otherwise.
I’d had enough playing. He was a threat, and if he wouldn’t answer questions, then it was time to end him. I swung again and was met with another block and then another. I kept pushing him forward toward the edge of the building, toward the last road where everything opened wide to look upon the water and the cove.
He groaned with another block, smacking my blade forcefully enough with his own that his cloak’s hood fell away from his face. After another swing, he cleared the building’s corner, standing directly under a swaying cone of light from a hanging lantern post along the deserted waterline road.
I gasped and froze at the sight so clear, so close. My eyes had to have betrayed me by the tavern. There was no way to deny it here, no way to ignore it. Dark, rough, and cracked, his face was like the rock at the cliffs, like the flesh coating my own body. The entirety of him looked far more intimidating under the light—his height, his size, more powerful than I’d realized at the lake, but obviously not cumbersome enough to slow or hinder his abilities. As all shadows did, he dressed in all black, only his face visible now. Hair that mimicked the night sky topped his head, cut fairly close, not obstructing the view of his parted lips, narrow cheeks, and broad, flaring nose. His marbled gray eyes mirrored the night—fog laden darkness—and my own. They were wide with shock as he heaved excessive recovery breaths.
“You …” It was all I could manage at first, stunned at the sight of him once again. How could it be? Had he also been struck down by some mysterious curse of magic like I had? Had someone claimed his human life in the same way? The memories of my youth ripped through me, demanding answers to the questions that had haunted me an entire lifetime. What had happened to me? To him?
He grunted and hissed air through his teeth, not making a move to attack me again, just watching, waiting. Defensive. Only defensive.