Ties of Destiny (Curse of the Crown Book 1)

by Caitlin Taylor

  “Your Highness? What will I say?” the messenger called through the door.

  “I’m...” The Prince started but his voice was too faint. He cleared his throat. “I’m on the way.” The Prince’s gaze moved from the door catching Jeffrey’s.

  Jeffrey startled at what he saw but it was gone with a blink.

  “You can let go now.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness.” Jeffrey let go of the Prince and stepped back until his shoulder blades hit the wall.

  “As am I.” The Prince sighed and sheathed his sword, his hands trembling.

  Chapter 7

  “Looks like it’s your lucky day.” The Prince said out of the blue while they were walking, his voice strained. “Depending how long this meeting will be, the Kingsguard will likely take over your duties and dismiss you. You can enjoy a day off.”

  “Your Highness, I don’t understand. Why would they dismiss me?” Jeffrey’d had enough time to calm down and get control of himself again, at least for the most part. Thinking rationally again, the present events were troubling.

  “They are very eager to please the King. It’s usually best to do as they tell you.” The Prince’s voice did not seem to be his own, the pitch slightly unnatural.

  “But I can stay back, the way I’ve done at the dinner with the Duke. The Queensguard where there but I wasn’t dismissed then. Unless you don’t need me that is, Your Highness.”

  The Prince stopped walking and looked at Jeffrey, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “You’ve had considerable training and are an experienced soldier. You may do as you feel is best suited to the situation, Jeffrey. I believe you’ll know what’s needed.” Jeffrey opened his mouth to say something, but the Prince turned away and continued walking. Following the Prince, Jeffrey’s mind raced, trying to understand what was going on.

  Five Kingsguards were stationed in the hallway. They looked intimidating in their shining, regal armour; all of them wearing white metal cuirasses with intricate gold detail and the King’s crest etched on in gold and blue. Jeffrey felt outnumbered and underdressed in his plain leather gear. At the door stood a man taller than the others, his armour a little more intricate, a gold trimmed cape hanging from his shoulders. The Captain of the Kingsguard.

  “Your Highness, his Majesty awaits inside,” the Captain spoke as the Prince approached. He opened the door and let him enter. Jeffrey was not permitted entry. “You may leave, we’ll cover the Prince for the rest of the day.”

  Scoffing quietly, Jeffrey took up post out of the way yet close enough to the door. He worried for the Prince, mostly because of how he had reacted when he’d received the summons and how on edge he’d been since. Whatever was going on, it was too suspicious for Jeffrey to leave his post now. He noticed the Captain sneering at him but ignored it.

  A long time seemed to pass without any sounds coming from inside, nor anything happening at all. Eventually, the door opened, and the King came out alone, a smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming. “Take him back to his room, when he’s ready.” Jeffrey thought he heard the King say to his Captain. Then he left, his retinue following. Jeffrey watched the procession and when they were out of earshot he approached the door still being guarded by the Captain.

  “No one but the King is to enter,” the Captain said, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Well, the King left. It didn’t seem like he’ll be coming back anytime soon. So, you can let me in now.”

  “No.”

  “I’m the Prince’s personal guard, now let me pass.”

  “No, on the King’s orders.”

  “You’re not serious!” Jeffrey exclaimed and tried to push past the heavy bulk of the captain of the Kingsguard but there was no moving him. After a few attempts the captain shoved him away roughly and Jeffrey landed on the floor.

  “You’ve been dismissed already. Go play with some dolls.”

  Jeffrey got to his feet, glaring at the captain with clenched fists. He straightened his uniform and walked away, going in search of the marshal. He’d know what to do.

  Jeffrey found him exiting his office on his way to a meeting and thus short on time. When Jeffrey had summarised the situation, the worried look crossing the marshal’s face did not reassure Jeffrey in the least. But the marshal halted his steps momentarily.

  “You’ve been given the day off, why are you not using it?”

  “Because my duty is to protect the Prince and I’m not confident he is safe now.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Everything that happened, the way he spoke, the Captain’s behaviour, something is really wrong,” Jeffrey said, gesturing wildly. “I am certain, even if I can’t rationally explain it.”

  “Will you keep his confidence no matter what you find out?” The marshal asked, his voice intense. His gaze fixed on Jeffrey, the look in his eyes serious. “You are sworn to protect him, to serve him. And to secrecy.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So, whatever you find, swear that you will keep his confidence.”

  Jeffrey looked at the marshal in bewilderment but the serious expression on the other man’s face made him speak. “I swore to protect him. I will keep whatever secret I must keep to do so. I swear it by the Goddess.”

  “There’s a secret passageway that leads to the Rose Room. I can’t help you look after him, but I can show you the passage,” the marshal said, his voice taking on an urgent tone. He headed off into a different direction, Jeffrey following suit. “There’s not enough time to explain, as you seem willing, you must go to the Prince. If he is passed out, do whatever you need to do to wake him, but be gentle. He won’t be himself, but he must make his way back to his room on his own. You will leave through the passageway again and be waiting inside his room. The Captain will guard the Prince back to his room, then he will leave, you should make sure he does but he must not see you. Do you understand?” The marshal looked at Jeffrey long enough to see him nod before continuing. “I’ll have a servant find Ignacio and send him to you. He will know what to do. Jeffrey.” The marshal stopped and looked at Jeffrey more seriously than he had ever done before. “This must not become public in any way. It’s your job to protect him, in every conceivable way. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t honestly think I do, Sir. But I will do whatever I can.”

  The marshal nodded, then looked around the corridor and when he saw no one around pressed against the base panel of a statue standing in an alcove. A part of the alcove moved, opening a small passage. “Follow this corridor, you will get to the room where the Prince is. Be quick, Jeffrey, and be careful.”

  With those words, the marshal ushered him through the opening, then the passage closed, and Jeffrey was left in near complete darkness. A smattering of light seemed to be coming from holes in random places in the walls or ceiling. Focusing on his task he walked along the corridor, carefully at first as he was unable to see much but as his eyes adjusted he hurried his steps. After what felt like forever he got to a dead-end. Searching the wall with his hands, he tried to feel his way to a doorknob or something else to open it with. When he could feel nothing, he tried to lean against each side of the wall and on his second try something gave way and with a quiet groan, the door opened inwards.

  Once more Jeffrey found himself landing on the floor and he cursed quietly. Recovering quickly, he looked around and saw the still figure of the Prince lying on the floor not far from him. A flash of memory blinded him momentarily; a similar sight of a still body, lying in a pool of blood. Shaking himself back to the present, he quickly hurried to the Prince and started checking him for any obvious injuries. He saw nothing and there was no blood on the floor either. The Prince was out cold, but he did have a pulse, faint as it was. Gently Jeffrey tried to wake him.

  After several attempts the Prince started stirring, slowly he opened his eyes and groaned at the brightness. Jeffrey breathed a sigh of relief at the obvious signs of life. Carefully he helped the Prin
ce sit up. Unable to find words, Jeffrey decided to stay quiet and simply be there for the Prince. He watched him look around, his movements sluggish and weary.

  “Are we alone?” The Prince whispered after a time, his voice raspy.

  “In here we’re alone, the Captain is outside though. Wouldn’t let me in, had to come through the walls...” Jeffrey started babbling but then shut himself up.

  The Prince nodded. Gingerly he tried to stand up, only to collapse back onto the floor. When Jeffrey helped him to his feet, he leaned on Jeffrey heavily for a few long moments before he found his balance. He let go of Jeffrey and took a careful step forward, a shadow flashed across his face and Jeffrey saw his jaw muscles working. Despite best efforts, the Prince’s legs buckled, and he would have fallen back to the floor if not for Jeffrey catching him.

  “Your Highness, let me help you. Tell me what to do.”

  Still leaning heavily on Jeffrey, the Prince looked into his eyes. “There’s only one thing you can do right now. I need your strength, are you willing to give it?”

  “I would give you anything to help, but how do I—”

  “Give me your hand,” The Prince interrupted. When Jeffrey offered his hand, the Prince gripped it firmly in his own.

  Jeffrey watched in confusion and amazement when their joined hands started glowing blue. There was no sensation and he couldn’t tell what was happening, but it was obvious the Prince used magic. It fascinated him. After only a few seconds the light disappeared, and the Prince let go of his hand. Jeffrey looked at it in wonder but saw and felt nothing unusual. Looking at the Prince, he seemed steadier on his own legs, though still shaken.

  “Thank you, you must leave now. Wait for me inside my quarters, please.”

  “Your Highness,” Jeffrey started but the look he received spoke volumes. He nodded and left the room through the secret passage from where he had come.

  As quickly as he could he hurried back to the Prince’s quarters, praying the Prince would be able to walk in his current state. For the entire length of Jeffrey’s walk there and the wait thereafter, he kept going over what he had seen, trying to make sense of it. The King and Prince had been on their own, how could he have ended up in this state? Was someone else in the room who had also come through the passageway? Why hadn’t the King called for his guards? Why had he left so casually when his son was hurt? Or had it happened after the King left? Then why hadn’t the Prince called for help? None of it made any sense.

  After what felt like an eternity, Jeffrey heard footsteps approaching. He stood inside the main door, behind it so as not to be seen. His whole body tensed as if preparing for a fight. He waited. The door opened, the heavy footsteps of a soldier stopped, someone walked into the room. The door fell closed and Jeffrey saw the Prince collapsing on the floor. He made sure the door had closed as he took the few steps towards the Prince, kneeling beside him. Jeffrey listened for the sound of the heavy footsteps walking away while checking the Prince’s pulse.

  “Your Highness, are you still with me?” he asked, gently turning the Prince on his back. Jeffrey saw him scrunch his face at the movement, hissing quietly.

  He paused, looking at the Prince’s still form. It wasn’t likely he’d be able to get up and walk on his own. “Your Highness,” Jeffrey spoke quietly, kneeling next to the Prince. A slight tilting of the Prince’s head towards Jeffrey’s voice was the only reaction. “What can I do?” Jeffrey asked helplessly. He’d never been good around sick or injured men, staying as far away from the medical tents as he could. He ran a hand over his face. The Prince had been mean, obnoxious even, but he didn’t deserve this, and Jeffrey’s instinct told him to help, against all else. He’d been unable to help his brother, had been too late to help Aidan. He could not let another man suffer because of him. “Dear Gaia and Tempesta, what do I do,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Please help me,” he prayed.

  It had been after Aidan’s death that he had last been in a temple. Weeks he’d spent there, partly to recover from his wounds, partly to grieve. Something had happened at the temple that he had never been able to explain, didn’t even fully understand. But he’d come to believe anew.

  A disembodied whisper blew in his ear, he knew now what to do.

  “Your Highness, I will need to take off your clothes. Is that okay?” When he heard no complaint, Jeffrey started to carefully remove the Prince’s clothes. Cursing the nobilities’ fashion for its endless layers, he fought with buttons and ribbons until eventually, he could take off each piece. When he saw the Prince’s chest he gaped, much of his skin coloured angry shades of blue and black. Moving even more carefully he took off the rest, leaving the Prince in his undergarment only. In other circumstances, he’d be admiring the Prince’s perfectly sculpted body, but it was hardly appropriate now and the bruising too worrying. Gently he picked the Prince up and carried him to the adjacent bathroom. He was heavy but at the same time, he seemed light as a child in Jeffrey’s arms.

  Inside the bathroom, Jeffrey found a sunken basin, filled with steaming water. Jeffrey knew there were aqueducts in the palace that supplied hot water to heat the floors or fill the thermal baths. Carefully, Jeffrey lowered the Prince into the bath, after he’d checked the temperature. When the Prince’s bruised flesh came in contact with the hot water he winced and groaned, Jeffrey could practically feel his pain.

  Once in the bath, the Prince seemed to relax a little, the expression of pain on his face easing, his limbs unwinding. His eyes fluttered, opening a fraction.

  A knocking sounded from the door. Despite his weakened state, the Prince grabbed Jeffrey’s arm, the look on his face required no words. “I won’t let anyone in, Your Highness.” The hold on Jeffrey’s arm weakened gradually at those words. When the Prince had let go, Jeffrey headed for the main door.

  Without opening it he demanded, “Who is it?”

  “Tea delivery for his Highness,” came the timid reply, in a heavily accented female voice.

  Jeffrey let out a breath of relief but still hesitated to open the door. The accent gave her away as a servant but the look on the Prince’s face was still imprinted in his mind. “Leave the tray.”

  “Your Highness, there’s also a message.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “A messenger has gone out.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. The marshal said it would mean something to his Highness.”

  “It does, leave now,” Jeffrey replied somewhat harshly. If she thought him the Prince, then he may try, and act like him. Very faintly he heard footsteps retreating. Waiting for a few more heartbeats for absolute silence before carefully opening the door, his hand on the dagger strapped to his belt, ready to fight if anyone unexpected should be waiting. It turned out, the corridor lay empty. Quickly Jeffrey picked up the tray and brought it inside before closing the door again. After a moment’s hesitation, he used the key and turned it to lock the door. Taking the key out of the door he put it in his pocket on a whim. Then he went back to the bathroom, bringing the tray with him. If the marshal had sent it, it must mean something.

  “Your Highness,” Jeffrey said once back in the bathroom, checking that he was awake and aware. Two blue eyes opened and looked at him. Swallowing hard at the look, Jeffrey turned to the tray to busy himself. “The marshal sent a message. ‘A messenger has gone out.’ Does it mean something to you?” he asked and turned to look at him briefly, only seeing the faint nod and look of relief. “He also sent this tray with tea it seems. I’m guessing it’ll be the kind to help you get your strength back.” Jeffrey talked mostly to comfort himself as he felt utterly inept to be dealing with the situation he found himself in.

  When he had poured a cup, Jeffrey took it to the Prince, who reached for it but when they both saw how his hand shook, he let it drop again. Kneeling next to the bath, Jeffrey carefully helped the Prince take a few sips. “Your Highness, I don’t know what you did before... you said you needed my stre
ngth. I have plenty left, could you not take more?”

  “No,” came the determined reply.

  “But... is there something else I can do? Anything?”

  “You’ve done plenty already,” the Prince replied, his voice still raspy, but clearly genuine.

  “Maybe I should get help, the marshal didn’t have time, he said he’d call Ignacio. I don’t know where he is... when...”

  “The message... he’s on the way but outside the palace,” the Prince replied weakly.

  “Oh, right,” Jeffrey said, feeling relieved at the news. It might take Ignacio a bit of time to get back, but he’d be here soon, and he would know what to do. Everything would be okay.

  Realising he was still holding the teacup, he got the Prince to drink a few more sips. He didn’t believe himself an expert but based on the strong herbal smell, it must be some special concoction with medicinal properties. And maybe he was clinging to straws, but it was all he had now. After a time, he realised that his arm lay alongside the Prince’s on the edge of the tub and he’d started caressing the skin tenderly. The Prince’s lower arm wasn’t bruised, and he’d not complained at the touch. Jeffrey wasn’t honestly sure if he did it for himself or for the Prince but decided he could still stop when told to. There was something soothing about the touch, even for himself. The Prince’s skin soft and silky.

  He sneaked a look at the Prince’s face, staring out through the floor to ceiling windows, his eyes unseeing. A single tear had made its way down his cheek, visible only by the glistening trail on his skin. Despite how challenging Jeffrey had found working for the Prince, how angry he had been at him, seeing him like this was hard to take. Whatever happened, he didn’t think anyone deserved this, and from his own father too. He couldn’t quite work out how, but somehow Jeffrey thought it explained a lot.