by Cara Coe
A fondness for this young soldier crept into Amelie’s cracks. He was still absently swishing the chain around, not noticing how his reference to Amelie’s plight as a curse rocked her. No one ever saw it that way. Either they thought it was a gift like her mother did, or a tool like Sir Duncan and the king did, or thought she was conniving and full of plots like Prince Seth.
The prince was arranging her bedding when Amelie returned to camp. She settled onto it once he rose to begin arranging his own. She settled against the tree the prince had chosen. Talon pulled out the rope. At night, her hands were still bound and the chain was usually tethered to the prince’s ankle. She circled her arms behind her and Talon began the knots, but stopped at the prince’s voice.
“Leave her be for now.”
Puzzled, Talon shrugged and put the ropes back into the prince’s sack.
“Would you like to play cards?” Prince Seth asked, settling down beside her. She eyed him warily and he gave a small smile. “Of all the activities that go on each evening at camp, you watch the card players with the most intensity.”
“I’m teaching myself the game. I need to pass the time,” Amelie responded coolly. In truth, she would love to do any activity that kept her from being bound to a tree for the next several hours.
“You’ve learned to play Horseman Hunt by simply watching from afar these last two nights?” Talon asked incredulously.
“Would you like to join us, Talon?” Prince Seth invited.
“Oh, now this I have to see.” Talon wasted no time and arranging a spot next to Amelie and the prince. Prince Seth doled out seven cards to each of them.
“What you want to do is find out who is carrying the seven card,” he began.
Amelie waved off his explanation impatiently. “The seven represents the horseman. Each round facilitates a trade in cards in which everyone must either draw and discard or trade with another player. If one trades, you dictate which card you seek by saying “second from the highest” or something of the like indicating the second highest number in your hand. This is how the Horseman possibly moves. You work your hand until your numbers equal a multiple of seven. When that happens you are able to lay them down and guess who the Horseman is. If you are right, you win. If you are wrong, you are out of the game. If you are the Horseman, you win as soon as you get your multiple of seven.”
She finished speaking at looked at the astonished faces of both men.
“You’ve figured all this out several paces away?” Talon mused.
“As I stated before, I’ve had time do little else than observe.”
The Prince watched her thoughtfully. “This has nothing to do with time,” he said finally, arranging his hand. “Your eye for observation is among the best I’ve seen. I’m certain given the opportunity with one slip in judgment of my men you would escape and render several of them injured. I know the majority of the success would be due to your ability to observe the routines, the mannerisms, the tiniest of details in our regime to find and exploit a crack in your captivity.”
“You think too highly of me, Prince,” Amelie scoffed, unnerved by his accuracy. “Any fool would use their time tethered to a tree to figure out how to escape such a situation.”
“I see it in your eyes. The world doesn’t pass in front of them without scrutiny, Amelie.”
Talon flicked his fanned hand of cards and selected one to trade with Amelie. “Well, let’s see how your observational skills do in a game against me. I can read people well, my friend.”
Amelie cocked her head at the use of the word “friend.” She didn’t know if he meant it or if he tossed it about without thinking. “It’s the same thing,” she finally responded. “Reading people is just a side effect of being observant.”
“You see, to everyone else it sounds like an unnecessary bit of information but all my ears hear is a challenge to put a wager on the game.”
Amelie smiled. “And what’s a prisoner with nothing on her person to put up for a wager?”
Talon grinned. “Information. If I win, you teach me about the herbs found in Candor. If you win, I’ll teach you about the herbs in Draeden.”
“Deal.”
They played for several rounds, evenly matched through most of them. When they prince started losing ground, slipping in several rounds, he finally called himself out and watched as Talon and Amelie raced for the win, collecting cards and reading for cues that the other held the Horseman. Several of the men gathered around to watch as well. Talon was not beat very often and the concentration had drops of perspiration beading on his forehead.
Amelie laid down her hand and looked him square in the eye. “Horseman,” she declared triumphantly. “Show it.”
Talon tossed down his cards good naturedly with a sigh and a grin. “I was one card away,” he bemoaned.
“Get ready to begin tomorrow’s lesson on Draeden herbs,” Amelie taunted. Talon gathered the cards and the men made their way back to their bedrolls.
“I would’ve done it regardless,” Talon declared.
“As would I, but this way was more entertaining.” Amelie smiled. She was surprised at the warmth and pleasantness she felt. She’d had fun.
Talon relinquished his end of the chain to the prince. Prince Seth gathered the length of rope from his sack and proceeded to secure Amelie to the tree. Amelie wished for a night where she didn’t have to sleep propped up. She sighed and felt the prince hesitate slightly in his binding. But then he finished it off and gloved her hands.
His voice was low when he spoke. “I do think highly of you, Amelie. I have since the night we met. I’m sorry we have become adversaries.”
And then he moved away from her, as far as their tether would allow, and laid himself down to sleep.
Chapter 12
Amelie
In the months following Phillip’s death, Amelie saw no one from the castle. She sat like a stone in front of her single window after her convent chores were completed, staring into the thick foliage of Candor’s forests and seeing nothing. Millie sat in a corner of the room practicing her stitching. She had little to say in the way of conversation, offering only a presence. Amelie grew to like the company despite the silence. She liked that Millie knew when to just be.
On one particularly dusty gray afternoon of staring and stitching that at first promised to be like any other, a horse’s whinny signaled the Queen’s arrival before she emerged from thick line of trees into Amelie’s view. Amelie’s sister rode a few paces behind on a brown mare, her raven black hair slick with the moisture in the air. The two women were surrounded by a company of palace guards in the red and gold colors of Candor.
Claudia could barely stand still as Amelie and Millie received their company. She shook visibly and tears pooled in her eyes. Amelie held her arms out to her younger sister and Claudia collapsed into them sobbing.
“It’s not the same without you,” she whispered into Amelie’s hair. Amelie only nodded, her own pain of losing not only Phillip but essentially Claudia as well swelling in her chest. Amelie squeezed tighter. The girls remained embraced that way until the queen lightly cleared her throat. Amelie and Claudia tried to discreetly wipe their tears and traces of muss while the two guards that accompanied the party into the parlor shifted uncomfortably.
Millie looked equally uncomfortable and a strained laugh burst from Amelie’s throat. “Claudia, you must meet Millie. She’s been keeping me company all this time.”
Millie bowed at the introduction. “Princess Claudia,” she acknowledged. “Your Highness,” she included, nodding towards the queen.
The queen waved a dismissive hand. "I must speak to Amelie alone. Millie, is it?"
Millie nodded.
"Show my daughter and our escorts around these grounds. Our talk will be brief but there's no reason for everyone to stand idle in the meantime."
"Yes your Majesty," and Millie led the group out of the parlor.
"It's probably best not to bring such a pr
esence to the convent, Mother," Amelie said cautiously. "It takes away from the point of hiding."
"A ridiculous notion," Queen Gala scoffed. "Your talent should be prized, not squirreled away."
Amelie shifted uncomfortably. She had spent years feeling her mother's scrutiny on her and she wished nothing more than to please her, but not with this new wretched trait that had the men in her life turning on her.
"How is King Byron?" she asked.
"Recovering. He keeps to his room." Queen Gala paused. "Now that Phillip has passed, you are set to inherit the crown."
"It's too soon to talk of such things."
"Now is the time to talk of such things. You've been banished, Amelie. That insufferable Sir Duncan interfered with this suggestion that you be sent away and you know how his words are gold to the king."
"I think my coming here was a good idea. Mother, you didn't see the look in Phillip's eyes."
Queen Gala sighed. "Yes, his death is regrettable. I'm sorry he couldn't control himself and I'm sure the guilt was overbearing. But a good ruler sets aside emotions and looks to what needs to be done."
"I'm not a ruler."
"You will be."
"Mother!"
"Amelie! The power you possess is a strong one. I made sure of it. I felt it when you were in my womb and I took great pains to enhance it."
Amelie shook her head, trying to clear the muddled feeling. Her senses suddenly felt out of sorts. Surely, she didn’t hear her mother right. That the queen had not only known of this power but had helped it?
“Enhance it?”
“I knew a woman from years ago,” Queen Gala admitted. “She worked with mage infants. She could sense your power and she used her skills to make it stronger.”
Amelie’s eyes brimmed. Bless the Angels, no. “Mother,” she said, her voice never climbing beyond a whisper. “You did this to me?”
“It was already done, child.” Queen Gala’s voice went cold as she registered the reaction on her daughter’s face. She moved to stand directly in front of Amelie, commanding in her presence. “I had no choices in my life. Everything was laid out before me since birth. When I realized my own child could have what I could not, that even oppressed you could change your destiny with this power…” The queen looked away sharply not able to look upon her daughter’s tears a moment longer. “Yes, I did everything I could to make sure men bent to your will. It’s your freedom.”
It was the first snap of many that Amelie would come to feel as the people in her life dwindled in numbers. It feels like a bow string drawn too tight. The sudden snap leaves a desperate weightlessness as the connection is severed. A falling, empty sensation that ends in a splash of grief once the drop hits bottom. Amelie rubbed the empty ache in her chest, reeling from the snap. Her eyes closed for a few moments and when she opened them again, she carried the grief of her mother’s betrayal next to her grief for her brother. It was more than a young girl on the crest of womanhood should have to bear and Amelie was staggering under the weight of it.
“What you call freedom is my curse,” she stated plainly.
Queen Gala narrowed her eyes. “Amelie-”
“We are finished, mother,” Amelie said, cutting her off. “It is done. And I will figure out how to live with it. I will not watch you pat yourself on the back while I do.”
Amelie turned and left the queen standing in the parlor, speechless for the first time in her life.
Chapter 13
Amelie
Amelie watched Seth sleep. It was soundless but deep. Wet heat hung heavy in the air and caused his raven hair to spike everywhere. His face was slack. The curve of his lips which curled slightly anytime he worked his mind around a thought or tried to hide his smile were a flat line in sleep. Freckles dotted the space above his mouth. His nose was long and round-tipped. His ears were rather large for his head but they offset the seriousness the rest of his features held.
He was beautiful. Amelie’s heartbeat pitched momentarily as that thought passed unbidden through her mind. She looked away as if she’d been caught doing something scandalous.
Then, berating herself silently for acting childish, she looked back and allowed herself to stare some more.
Was he beautiful when she met him? She remembered the warmth she felt dancing with him and her pulse reacting when she thought for a moment he found her to be pleasing as they talked. He had been very handsome.
He was different now.
Colder. More severe.
When he slept, that part of him melted away and he was beautiful.
His blue steel eyes suddenly found hers.
“A nightmare?” he asked, not moving. Though his body position didn’t change, Amelie could see his muscles were now taut, no longer relaxed. Trained to suddenly be fight-ready even in the moment of waking.
Amelie shook her head. Honesty disobeyed her senses and made itself plain to him. “I was watching you sleep. Your face is angelic.”
The prince’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “You think your captor handsome?”
He said it in the serious tone he’d used with her since marching her from the manor at the tip of his sword. But his lips held that curve, the one that betrayed his amusement.
Amelie tried to hide her own smile. “In comparison to the scowl I endure every day in broad sunlight, I’d say yes. Faded from the world in sleep and shrouded in the dark midnight, your features become tolerable.”
He did not try to cover his chuckle. He closed his eyes again and sighed. “Likewise, spy.”
Chapter 14
Seth
The next evening had the men hungry for more competition. Amelie’s sound beating of Talon and Seth at cards made the usual activities of singing, joke telling, and swapping bragging battle stories seem pale. At dinner, Seth had playfully needled Talon with chiding comments on his hunting ability.
“How many arrows did you need to take this bird down?” he laughed, pretending to cough on a sliver of arrowhead. “I think there’s more metal than flesh here.” The men had laughed and followed suit with their own exaggerated gagging sounds. Talon just smirked at them over his chunk of pheasant breast. Seth regretted the teasing now as Talon stepped in front of him and extended a bow.
“A battle of accuracy, your Highness?” he asked all smiles.
“We all know you are a fine hunter,” Seth responded, not moving to take the bow.
“No need to worry, your Highness. We can make your targets bigger to make it even.”
Seth tried not to but couldn’t help sneaking a look at Amelie. She’d been silent throughout dinner and seemingly detached from the group despite her popular win last night. She was leaning against the trunk of a tree, her ankle chained to Unger’s. She was not detached now. Her eyes flashed humorously at him.
Seth grabbed the bow. “What’s the target?”
Talon pointed. “I’ve spotted some copperfruit over there. It’s a solid color. The juices will be prime. Let’s shoot some down for dessert.”
The fruit was over a hundred and fifty paces away and higher than the surrounding canopy. He could hear Amelie’s stifled laugh behind him.
“Same targets,” Seth said tersely. His muscles were taut and for the first time in the fifteen years he’d known him, he felt irritated at Talon’s good natured teasing. Talon raised an amused eyebrow at him but knew his friend well enough to say nothing else.
“First to knock down three?” Derrick suggested, drawing a standing line in the dirt. Both men nodded as they stepped up to the line and drew their bows.
“Shall I go easy on you in front of our company?” Talon whispered to his opponent out of the corner of his mouth.
“Just shoot,” Seth answered.
The men let their arrows fly. Talon’s hit its mark clean through the thick, smooth green vine that tethered the sweet fruit to the tree. It fell and split open upon impact. Seth’s arrow narrowly missed and sailed beyond view. The soldiers cheered and two of them ran t
o collect the spoils.
Talon followed with two quick arrows in succession, cleanly dispatching two more round copperfruits. Seth damned speed and concentrated on hitting at least one. His next arrow sunk into the belly of the fruit, leaving it and the arrow still stuck to the tree and high out of reach. His third arrow finally cut through the vine. Even the fall was clunky, bouncing off the trunk of the tree and cracking the fruit midway down. The sweet juices sprayed from the crack. The men collecting the fallen targets on the ground covered their heads and cursed. Talon laughed solidly as they pulled the arrow out of the middle of Seth’s only success.
“Looks like there’s more metal than juice in that thing!” he exclaimed, clapping a hand on Seth’s back. Seth grinned sheepishly.
“All right, all right. I shall eat my dinners in silence from now on.” He spread his hands in defeat, shaking his head and trying to slough off the embarrassment of being forced to display his lack of archery skills in front of Amelie. He didn’t miss the small smile that played on her lips and the satisfaction in her features.
“Well. Are you sure you don’t want to join our band of soldiers, Amelie?” he asked, turning to face her. “Apparently, you’re the strategist. Talon’s the shot. If we hold competitions every night, I’m not sure I’ll have a fit role in this group by the time we reach the palace.”
The men laughed and Seth took a swig of cider from the canteen handed to him, joining in heartily.
“You lead.” Amelie’s voice cut through the noise and the laughter tapered off. The men looked at her. Seth looked at her the hardest. “And you do it well,” she added solemnly. Her gaze locked to his and Seth could see her breath speeding up.