“I don’t understand.”
“Let’s say I was standing behind you and a great wind came along and blew me over, and as I fell I brought you down with me. Yes, I made you fall; but it was really the wind that caused it. And there is no doubt in my mind: I didn’t push Teo away.”
Alexos just stares at her, incredulous.
“To truly be the sacrifice that Zeus required, your suffering had to be brutal. Just taking Teo away from you was not enough. It had to be worse than that. So she made you do it, and made you believe that you had killed him.”
He cries out suddenly and it startles her. But he doesn’t hide his face. He just stays as he is, looking at her, showing everything he is feeling. She gets off the stool and kneels before him, reaching up to grip his arms. Her face is inches away from his, her eyes very wide.
“And then I understood. The life Athene gave you would have broken anyone. But as hard as she tried, she failed—because you could never be damaged enough to harm your brother. So she had to do it for you. She gave you the guilt without the crime. Surely you must have wondered. Surely it must have seemed impossible to you—what happened.”
“Yes.”
“Athene didn’t want to do it. She loves you above all mortals. But she had to have the sacrifice to save her people.” She stops for a moment, quivers all over like a dog shaking off water.
“I have learned a lot today, Alexos, enough to last a lifetime. Teo said, ‘It’s not as easy to be good as I thought it was,’ and I didn’t understand. Now I do. I believe I will spend the rest of my life trying to be like my brother, like Peles, like Suliman, generous and merciful. We must be careful how we judge one another in this life. There is always a missing piece. Oh, Alexos, I am so ashamed.”
“No.”
“Yes. Because you did not deserve my cruelty. You thought you did, and I thought you did, but we were both wrong. You have given more and asked less, have worked harder and thought more of others—”
“Please stop. You have broken the chains that have bound me since I was twelve years old. You don’t have to say another word.”
“Yes I do. I haven’t completed my task. Alexos, whatever needs forgiving, I forgive you.”
“And I accept your forgiveness.” She is still gripping his arms, rather firmly for such a small person, and looking up at him in a way he doesn’t quite understand. He just knows that the hair is rising on his scalp and he is dizzy from forgetting to breathe.
“Now I must ask you to forgive me,” she says.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Please, Alexos. Forgive me, as I forgave you. Do it, and then we are done.”
“All right. I forgive whatever needs forgiving.”
She is nervous, breathing hard. “And I accept your apology. Now, to show that we are friends, and to dazzle the gods, and because I find I want to very much—would you mind if I were to kiss you?”
“No,” he says, his heart slamming against his chest, cold chills running down his neck and arms. “I wouldn’t mind.” He leans down a little and she rises to meet him, gently pressing her lips to his cheek. It’s the way she used to kiss Teo when he was little.
“Thank you,” he says, with an involuntary shudder. “But would you come and sit beside me? It would be somewhat more awkward for me to come down to you.”
“Oh, of course.”
“Thank you. And now, I wonder if we might try that another way. Like so.” He cradles her face in his hands and gently presses his lips to hers. He lingers there, softly. Then he pulls back a little to look at her. Please don’t be offended! “Was that all right?”
“Oh,” she says. “It made me rather out of breath.”
“Me, too—in a very good sort of way.”
“Alexos, why is it so bright in here all of a sudden?” The canvas is glowing and the tent is full of light.
“The fog has lifted, I expect. The sun is shining.”
“But that never happens. There is always fog.”
“I think Athene is ready to show her handiwork now; no need to keep us hidden any longer.”
“You mean the gods are watching us?”
Delicately, with the third finger of his left hand, he’s tracing the contours of her face: across the forehead and around the brow; down the slope of her nose, touching her mouth and her chin.
“I think so,” he says. “I hope they like what they see.”
“Oh yes, I hope so too.”
He kisses her cheek, just to the side of her nose, then her lips again.
“Have you done this before, Alexos?”
“No.”
“Nor have I. But I must say, you’re uncommonly good at it.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. How would it be if I took you in my arms?”
“I think that would be very nice.” She leans her head against his chest. He kisses her hair. He thinks any moment now he is going to burst into flames.
“What is all that shouting outside?”
“I believe they have spotted a sail.”
“A ship?”
“Yes. But there’s no hurry. It’ll take some time to get here.”
“We can stay a while longer, then?”
“I thought we might.”
And then it washes over him, and for a moment he is near to drowning in a wave of high emotion. It feels like desperation or unspeakable pain. But he’s pretty sure it’s neither one. “I never expected this,” he says, a sort of gasp. “I did not think it possible.”
“What—kissing?”
“A happy ending.”
“Oh, Alexos, wouldn’t you rather think of it as a happy beginning, which will lead to a very long, happy middle, and finally, years and years from now when we’re aged and crotchety—then we can have our happy ending?”
“I quite agree. A much better way to look at it.”
“Would you like to kiss me again?”
“Oh yes, Aria. I would.”
Coda
THEY STAND TOGETHER, THE two old men, on a rise overlooking the harbor. Three ships flying the flag of Ferra are anchored offshore. The men and their gear will have to be ferried from the island to the ships in small boats. It will take the rest of this day and much of the next to get everything and everyone on board. But there’s no sense of urgency. The weather is fair and looks to remain so.
The tents, already taken down and neatly folded, are piled up on the beach along with the cauldrons, trunks, barrels, boxes, and casks. Everyone will sleep under the stars tonight. The fog has gone for good.
“It’s past believing,” Suliman says, gazing down at Alexos and Aria, standing apart from the others, arms about each other’s waists, while Teo turns cartwheels in the sand. Every now and then he runs back to his brother and his sister to hug them in the wildness of his joy.
“Indeed,” Claudio says. “Here I am, sniveling like a child.”
“Will they marry?”
“Oh, yes. They’d do it tomorrow if I’d allow it. But Aria has lived a simple life here; it’s all she’s ever known. Now she’s going to a brave new world, full of wonders and terrors. There will be so much to learn about—dressmakers, banquets, court manners; only imagine! She’ll need time to adjust.”
“He’ll wait however long he must. He’s loved her since he was twelve.”
“Oh, I don’t intend to torture them. It will happen soon. But it’ll be a busy time—so much to do, so many changes. That should distract them for a while.”
“Yes,” Suliman says. “It’ll be a brave new world for us all. Both armies disbanding, men going home, which of course will mean more hands to work the farms. If the old stories are true, we’ll have fine weather once again, bringing rich harvests and prosperity. Good changes, all. But of course there will be decisions to make as to how Arcoferra will be governed.”
“Since we seem to have one king too many?”
“Well, yes. That is one of the complications.”
“I have given the m
atter some thought, Suliman.”
“I rather imagined you had.”
“To wit: I have grown weary of the heavy burdens of great office, have become old and worn with care . . .”
“In two days?”
“Yes. Positively exhausted. See the lines in my face and the bags under my eyes?”
“Claudio, I believe you are quite demented with joy.”
“True. I have not been sleeping well. I wake in the night, laughing.”
“That would wear a man down.”
“Oh, it has. And so it has occurred to me that I might, as my nephew did, abdicate my throne.”
“In favor of Alexos?”
“No, Suliman. In favor of my daughter.”
“Oh. That is original—a queen!”
“I know it goes against custom—and possibly against the laws of Ferra—to choose a daughter as my heir over a son. But I can’t claim Teo, not in any dynastic sense. He belongs to Arcos. And he has already refused that throne.”
“I understand you completely, Claudio. A very neat and generous solution: the queen of Ferra marries the king of Arcos, and just like that”—he makes an extravagant sweep of the hand—“we are one kingdom again, jointly ruled by a united royal family. And Teo will not have to part from father, sister, or brother.”
“You have it exactly.”
“Where will they live—in the north or the south?”
“I would think they’d spend the summers in Arcos and the winters in Ferra.”
“And with us around, they’ll never lack for advisers!” They break into laughter at the same moment.
Down on the beach, Teo bounds up the slope and comes close to knocking his brother over. But Aria has such a firm grip on Alexos that the accident is averted. Now Alexos has the boy around the shoulders and they are linked, the three of them. It’s a beautiful sight. Even from this distance, the men can feel their happiness, that much greater for being so unexpected.
Claudio looks over at Suliman and sees that he is weeping. He turns away, not wanting to intrude on a private moment. But Suliman knows he’s been observed and he doesn’t mind. He welcomes it, in fact, the long-missed opportunity of sharing his deepest feelings with a friend. He opens his heart.
“I had a wife once—long ago, before I came to Arcos.”
Claudio turns but does not speak.
“We had a beautiful son. He was three years old. I loved my wife very much and I doted on my boy. I was a prince, though a minor one, the youngest of seven. I had everything a man could desire: wealth and position, love and purpose. I am glad to say I knew at the time how fortunate I was.
“But then, when I had been away on some business for my brother, I returned to find that there had been a fire and my family had perished in it.”
“Oh, Suliman!”
“I need not tell you what I felt. You have lost your own wife, so you will know. But after a time, those around me grew impatient with my mourning. ‘Find yourself a new wife,’ they would say. ‘She will give you a new son.’ But I had loved that woman and that child, and they were not replaceable. So I took my grief and withdrew from court and pursued my studies—medicine, languages, philosophy.
“Then, restless still, I decided to see the world. I eventually settled in Arcos and made a new life for myself. But I never spoke of my past. King Ektor knew who I was, of course, who my brother was, and where I’d been trained in medicine. But the most important things, the true and personal things, nobody knew. Not once since leaving my country have I spoken the names of my wife or my son.”
“Will you speak them now, to me?”
“I will. My wife was Laleh; that is also the name of a flower in the language of my people. We called our son Hami, which means protector, defender.”
“Laleh,” Claudio says. “Hami. I will remember.”
“It must already be obvious to you that Alexos has become my second son. I did not seek it, nor did he. It grew over time and we never gave it a name. But he is my son and I am his father.
“It has been difficult, of course. His pain became my pain. And while there were times when I was able to ease his way and calm his fears, the very nature of his destiny meant that he must walk alone. As the long-awaited chosen one—we didn’t know then that there were others—a lot was expected of him. It became clear over time that he was being tested.”
He pauses thoughtfully, takes a deep breath; his shoulders droop as he lets it out.
“There are words often used when speaking of the promise Athene made and the role her champion must play: dedication, selflessness, sacrifice. But no one really knew exactly what the boy was supposed to do.
“And so, being a scholar—as you are, Claudio—I made a study of the ancient scrolls that are kept in the sacred archives. They are written in an archaic form of your language, not easy to decipher. But I have been a student of languages all my life. With time and effort I managed to learn it.”
Claudio leans in closer now; Suliman’s voice has dropped.
“I read the scrolls from beginning to end. And then, hoping I was mistaken in my translation, I read them again and again. But it was not a mistake. Claudio, the word sacrifice was literally meant—not merely in the sense of doing without or giving something up, but in the same way we sacrifice a bull or a goat.”
“He was meant to die?”
“Yes.”
“When did you learn this?”
“He was very young, five or six years of age. Since that time I have waited and wondered—how and when would it happen? I prayed to Athene, Let it be easy; let it be quick. Then he was captured by Pyratos, and I understood. His death could not be easy and quick: this was a sacrifice; Zeus required suffering on an epic scale. Thus the false accusation, the prospect of a shameful trial and a public execution. It had to be horrible.”
Now he looks at Claudio with amazement in his eyes. “Yet now I see that Athene has managed, with the exceptional cleverness for which she is so famous, to put on such a stirring display of noble suffering and generous forgiveness that Zeus failed to notice that the ultimate price was never paid. Then, once absolution had been granted and the immortals had moved on to other things, she . . .”
He can’t go on. So Claudio finishes for him. “She restored Alexos to life.”
“Yes. And so I weep with joy and gratitude, you see.”
They are silent now, thinking of their children, thinking of the future, gazing out at the tender blue of the summer sky, the calm waters sparkling in the sunlight, the ships rocking gently, their sails ruffling in the breeze, and the little boats coming and going.
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About the Author
Courtesy of the author
DIANE STANLEY is the author and illustrator of beloved books for young readers, including The Silver Bowl, which was named a best book of the year by Kirkus Reviews and Book Links Lasting Connections and was an ALA Booklist Editors’ Choice; The Cup and the Crown; The Princess of Cortova; Saving Sky, winner of the Arab American National Museum’s Arab American Book Award and a Bank Street College of Education Best Book of the Year; Bella at Midnight, a School Library Journal Best Book of the Year and an ALA Booklist Editors’ Choice; The Mysterious Case of the Allbright Academy; The Mysterious Matter of I. M. Fine; and A Time Apart. She is also well known as the author and illustrator of award-winning picture book biographies.
Ms. Stanley has also written and illustrated numerous picture books, including three creatively reimagined fairy tales: The Giant and the Beanstalk, Goldie and the Three Bears, and Rumpelstiltskin’s Daughter. She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. You can visit her online at www.dianestanley.com.
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Books by Diane Stanley
The Silver Bowl
The Cup and the Crown
The Princess of Cortova
Bella at Midnight
The Mysterious Case of the Allbright Academy
The Mys
terious Matter of I. M. Fine
Saving Sky
A Time Apart
Credits
Cover art © 2015 by Antonio Javier Caparo
Cover design by Sarah Creech
Copyright
THE CHOSEN PRINCE. Text and map copyright © 2015 by Diane Stanley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Stanley, Diane.
The chosen prince / Diane Stanley. — First edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-06-224897-8
EPub Edition December 2014 ISBN 9780062248985
Summary: “Prince Alexos, the long-awaited champion of the goddess Athene, follows the course of his destiny through war and loss and a deadly confrontation with his enemy to its end: shipwreck on a magical, fog-shrouded island. There he meets the unforgettable Aria and faces the greatest challenge of his life. Based loosely on Shakespeare’s The Tempest”— Provided by publisher.
[1. Princes—Fiction. 2. Fate and fatalism—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.S7869Ch 2015
2014022042
[Fic]—dc23
CIP
AC
* * *
14 15 16 17 18 CG/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
The Chosen Prince Page 22