The Princess Search: A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling (The Four Kingdoms Book 5)

by Melanie Cellier

  His voice trailed away, but the haunted look in his eye told me he referred to the rebellion the year before. He had never seen the betrayal coming, and it weighed on him, more heavily than all the rest.

  “You told me not so long ago that we cannot be responsible for failing to foresee the future. If that is true for me, it’s also true for you. You’re not king yet, and Lanover is not yet your sole responsibility to bear. And it will never truly be yours alone. Didn’t your sister see and foil the rebellion? You can trust in your family to help you.”

  “My sister Celeste, yes.” He shook his head ruefully. “With her, too, I was blind.”

  I forced a cheerful note into my voice. “Well, console yourself with this. With so many failures behind you, you must be growing eminently wise by this point. When the distant day comes for you to be crowned king, everyone will marvel at your insight and discernment.”

  Frederic chuckled. “That’s why I need you around, Evie. You make me laugh at myself whenever I start to take myself too seriously. I don’t know how you do it, considering the life you’ve lived.”

  “It’s an absolute requirement of such a history, I assure you, as it takes far less energy than constant weeping. And since you’ve so kindly confided your troubles in me, I daresay I can teach you the trick of it. But I should warn you that it takes a great deal of skill to learn, and you may not ever approach my level of brilliance.” I winked at him.

  He chuckled again and moved toward me before suddenly pausing. His head whipped up, his brow lowering. “Did you hear something?”

  I looked back the way we had come. The lush foliage blocked our view of the higher pool’s edge, and we couldn’t see the two guides. I ran the last few moments back through my mind.

  “Maybe?” I took a step in their direction, but Frederic blocked my passage with his arm.

  “Let me go first,” he said, his voice quiet.

  I swallowed and nodded. What did he think he’d heard?

  Careful of my footfalls, I trod silently behind Frederic. As we stepped up and around the greenery, he swore and dashed forward. I hurried behind him, not immediately seeing what had roused him.

  But as he dropped to a knee, he revealed the prone figure of one of the guides. I gasped and would have knelt, too, but Frederic gestured for me to stay standing.

  “Watch the trees. Let me know if you hear or see anything at all.”

  I tore my eyes away from the arrows that peppered the man’s body, my fright holding back my tears as his blood ran over the mossy rocks. Where was the other guide?

  Frederic stood beside me. “He’s dead.” His grim voice gave no hint of fear or grief, his focus on the danger confronting us.

  I spared a quick look at the man. “He was an experienced jungler. And yet he had not time to call a warning to us. Who could have done this?”

  “We need to find the other guide.” Frederic looked hopelessly at the trees around us.

  I followed his gaze, forcing my sickened mind to focus and concentrate. “There.” I pointed to one side. “Someone has passed through there recently.”

  Frederic drew his sword, and together we trod carefully into the trees. The broken leaves and scuffed ground suggested someone had rushed through this way—and recently. After some minutes, voices ahead made us freeze. Frederic gestured silently for me to drop behind him as he crept forward, sword outstretched.

  I followed behind, wishing the sword made me feel safer. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t see how it would do us much good against bows and arrows. I shook my head, angry with myself. The Tour’s journey had been so quiet since we entered the jungle that I hadn’t even thought of the potential danger of an expedition such as this without any guards.

  I halted at Frederic’s signal, and we peered into a small, open space ahead of us. It contained three men with a body on the ground beside them. Our second guide stirred feebly, and one of the other men grunted. “We should keep moving.”

  He bent as if to pick the guide up when Frederic yelled loudly and charged out of the trees. All three men whirled around, took one look at the blade bearing down on them, and then ran for the trees. Their bows and quivers remained on the ground, along with a couple of bags.

  As soon as they had disappeared, Frederic stopped, dropping down beside the guide. Stripping off his gag, he worked efficiently, tearing off the man’s shirt to reveal several long gashes on his torso. Ripping the garment into strips, he began to bandage him. I rushed forward to help.

  The man stirred several times, murmuring quietly, but he didn’t seem fully conscious.

  “What’s he saying?” Frederic asked as he tied off the last of the makeshift bandages.

  I leaned down to place my ear near his mouth. The man murmured again, his eyes still closed. Rocking back onto my heels I looked over at the prince uneasily.

  “It sounded like ‘west’.”

  Frederic frowned, his eyes raking the trees. “We’ve heard plenty of rivalry between the east and the west, does that include armed attacks?”

  I bit my lip. “Not that I’ve ever heard of.”

  He looked down at the man on the ground and then stood. “There is nothing more I can do for him. If he is to have any hope of living, we need to return to the village and send proper help.”

  He looked at me expectantly, and I felt the blood drain from my face. We had no guides left. If we were to find our way back to safety, I would have to lead us.

  Frederic gathered up the attackers’ abandoned weapons and packs, distributing them between us. “We will send someone for you,” he told the guide, although I doubted the man could hear or understand him. Had there been poison on the attackers’ blades? Why had they fled, abandoning everything, when faced with a single armed man? And would they return for the guide as soon as we left?

  I put the questions aside. For now it didn’t matter. Four of us would die in the jungle if I couldn’t find our way back to the village. Once we were back with the Tour, we could work out what had happened.

  Trying to project more confidence than I really felt, I led the way back toward the waterfall. This part, at least, was easy, the path as clear on the way back as it had been on the way in. When we arrived back at the falls, I turned my face from the body still lying there, my shock having abated enough to allow a couple of tears to slip out and course down my cheeks.

  Frederic removed his waistcoat, laying it over the man’s face. Turning back to me, he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  I swallowed. “I…I don’t actually know the way. It’s been a long time.”

  His face softened in sympathy. “Well, you have a better chance of finding the way than me.” He stepped toward me, stopping at arm’s reach. “I believe in you, Evie.”

  I took a deep breath, looking into his eyes. I needed to believe in myself, too. I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The local junglers meandered to the waterfall by different routes which, coupled with the speed of growth of the jungle itself, meant no true path had ever formed. They denied it, but I had always suspected the villagers did it on purpose, keeping the waterfall’s location secret. Taking the royals there would have been granting an honor in their eyes.

  I led Frederic slowly despite a constant beating drum in the back of my mind counting down the remaining minutes of the poor guide’s life. But I knew it would do him no good for us to move quickly and end up hopelessly lost. I looked for small landmarks: strangely shaped vines, clumps of flowers, unusual trees—anything I could remember from our walk over.

  And slowly, step by step, we made our way forward. The unexpected exertion, combined with the fear and anxiety, meant we had both drained our water skins long before we should have done so. But I didn’t dare risk taking us off track to look for another source of water. We would simply have to go on with dry mouths.

  “Do you think he’ll live?” I asked at one point when we stopped for a brief rest.

  Frederic considered. “I don’t know. The wounds didn
’t seem deep enough for him to be so unaware. I’m afraid there may have been poison involved. In which case I can’t even guess without knowing what the poison is. They were taking him somewhere, so perhaps they didn’t mean him to die.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps they merely wanted to dispose of his body somewhere far enough away to sow confusion.”

  I considered his words and shivered, looking warily around as if the attackers might spring out of the surrounding trees. Many more questions filled my mind, but we didn’t have time to stop and talk, and I needed to focus on the task at hand.

  But as I turned to lead the way again, my eyes fell on Frederic, raising a handful of purple berries toward his mouth. I lunged forward, knocking them from his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, as I looked around frantically for something to wipe his skin.

  Choosing a large glossy leaf, wet from some sort of dripping moisture above it, I ripped it off and thrust it at him. “Wipe your hands on this and then leave it in the undergrowth. And never touch those berries again.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, obediently wiping his hands. “What’s wrong with them?”

  I put my hand on my rapidly beating heart, taking a moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath. “They’re poisonous. Horribly, horribly poisonous. If you’d eaten any, you would have been dead within minutes.”

  He swallowed audibly and scrubbed his hands a little harder. “But they look just like blueberries!”

  I shook my head, pointing at a couple still on the bush near him. “There are lots of differences, although they’re all small. They’re more purple in color for one. And they don’t have the star-shaped lip around the top. Plus, they’re more completely round than a blueberry which generally has that slightly flattened shape.”

  He squinted at them. “Oh, yes, I see. Why has no one mentioned it before?”

  I shrugged. “All your food has been served to you, you haven’t been scavenging for your own. And locals may not have thought to mention it. Even very small jungler toddlers know not to touch a caracos berry.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I have you with me, then,” he said, his smile a little lopsided.

  I nodded, still trembling slightly from the shot of pure terror added to the constant state of fear already coursing through me. “Let’s get moving again.” I paused. “Try not to touch anything.”

  He managed a watery chuckle, and I grinned weakly back.

  Thirty long minutes later with several pauses for backtracking, we found an area I recognized properly and picked up our pace, eventually stumbling wearily back into the village. A crowd immediately gathered around us, cries going up as we gasped out the important points of our tale.

  Within minutes an armed expedition had formed. Frederic tried to send some guards along, but the junglers refused. “They’ll just slow us down,” explained the village elder, before pausing and meeting Frederic’s eyes. “And I’d feel safer if they remained here with you. At least until we understand the nature of this threat.”

  Frederic nodded reluctant agreement before his own servants bore him off to be examined by the Tour doctor. Celine, miraculously restored to health, insisted I see the doctor as well, although I told her there was nothing wrong with me but for an intense dose of fear and some thirst.

  Despite our exhaustion, Frederic and I waited with the same anxious energy as the others who had remained in the village. Wild rumors circulated as to the identity of the attackers, but no one seemed to have any sensible suggestions.

  Frederic remained silent about the word I had thought I heard from the injured guide, and I followed his lead. We didn’t want to whip up rage against their neighbors when I might have misheard or misunderstood him.

  Every time I thought of the injured man who we had abandoned, I was driven to my feet to start pacing again despite my fatigue. Had I taken too long finding our way back? Had I ruined any hope he had for survival?

  Chapter 18

  When someone called that the expedition had returned, many voices taking up the cry, I rushed toward them. First came a group bearing a stretcher—the body on it covered in a black sheet. He hadn’t made it, then.

  My knees began to shake until I saw a second group following behind with a second stretcher. The man on this one had been properly bandaged with crisp white linen, a green paste oozing out the sides. He appeared to be sleeping, his chest rising and falling with regular breaths. They had made it in time, after all. I closed my eyes, thankfulness overwhelming me. And the evidence of the paste suggested we had been right, and a poison had been used.

  My relief faded, however, as the villagers surged around the black draped stretcher which had now been laid on the ground. A wailing dirge rose up, growing louder and louder as more voices joined it. I closed my eyes and for a moment the years fell away, and I still lived with Mother Nora. In this moment, none of us were individuals, but instead one entity, united in our grief, and I was one with the village.

  I couldn’t have said how much time passed before the sound began to die down, voice after voice falling away into silence. We would bury him tomorrow, but already we had begun the process of incorporating his death into the fabric of village life.

  I opened my eyes and met Frederic’s before he quickly looked away. His earlier words came back to me, and I knew he was right. There was no shame associated with my connection with the jungle. But it was yet another barrier between me and the prince, part of the ocean that separated us.

  We stayed the next day for the burial and so Frederic could consult with the village leaders. Nothing in the attackers’ belongings indicated their origins, although the second guide had recovered enough to answer questions. He and the other guide had been ambushed, and he had been grabbed and gagged before he even realized his companion was dead.

  “They were westerners,” he said, “they must have been. They were dressed like junglers, but they weren’t ours. They must have hoped to turn the royals against us easterners. If they’d escaped with me, you might easily have thought I killed my companion and abandoned you to the jungle in an attempt to sabotage the Tour.”

  Frederic had said nothing to the injured man, but I could see from his face that he wasn’t convinced. When he came out of consultation with the village council, he looked weary.

  “I’ve talked them down from any immediate action,” he told us. “I’ve told them we will send for proper investigators, ones who know the jungle. We cannot have a jungler civil war breaking out.”

  I nodded. It would be a disaster if the long-standing rivalry turned to violence.

  The next day we left the village. I exchanged a fond farewell with Josinna, aware that it would in all likelihood be the last time I saw her. Our visit had reminded me that when I remembered the jungle, it should be with as much gratitude for Josinna’s support as hurt at my foster family’s lack of care.

  The members of the Tour, both commoners and nobles, were nervous now, their eyes constantly straying to the surrounding trees. At least we had a straight trip to the edge of the jungle from here. We had visited our last village.

  The guards who had been chosen for the Tour came from all parts of the kingdom. Every time we made camp, even just to eat a meal, the ones from a jungler background were sent to scout the surrounding trees. We had nearly made it out of the jungle altogether when we stopped for a midday meal, and the scouts came racing back to the main column.

  When Frederic had heard their report, he headed back into the trees with them and an extra contingent. As he stepped off the road, he paused and looked back, signaling to me to join him. I abandoned my food and followed, curious. Surely he wouldn’t want me if they’d found something dangerous.

  He looked grim but not afraid. “They’ve found some bodies close by. Looks like they were following the road among the trees. And they want to know if we recognize them.”

  The three bodies lay sprawled around the remains of a camp, as if they just keeled over while eating th
eir evening meal one night. They had no visible wounds.

  “That’s them,” said Frederic. He looked over at me. “Evie?”

  I nodded slowly. “I think so.” I shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look.”

  Reluctantly I approached for a closer examination, covering my nose. Several of the guards had already begun digging a joint grave, and I didn’t know where to look without making myself sick to my stomach.

  “They are dressed like junglers,” said one of the guards uncertainly.

  My heart sank. It wasn’t the answer we had hoped for, but I could see nothing that truly identified them one way or the other. I looked helplessly at Frederic when a splash of purple caught my eye.

  I knelt down beside one of the bodies.

  “Frederic,” I called. “Look at this.”

  He joined me, pulling back when he got a good look. “Aren’t those…”

  I nodded, looking up to meet his eyes. “Caracos berries in their hands. Yes. I think we know how they died.” I stood up. “And we know they’re not junglers. Junglers would never be dining on caracos.”

  Several of the guards nodded.

  “Even the easterners know to avoid caracos,” said one of them.

  Frederic nodded. “We’ll send messengers back to the village with the news. And we’ll keep these belongings for the investigators. Although no one touch those berries. With any luck, the experts will find some sign of where they came from.”

  I smiled tremulously, but I suspected his words were meant for the morale of his men. How could investigators possibly determine such a thing?

  Back with the Tour, he filled Cassian and Celine in on my discovery.

  “Ugh, how horrible,” said Celine, her usually mobile face downcast.

  “At least we know they’re not easterners,” said Frederic. He looked at his brother. “But I’m afraid that means they must have been…”

  “Rebels,” agreed Cassian. “Yet another disaster following the Tour.”