“Of course. You are getting quite old, I have no idea
how you manage the trip every year, just to pester me about mining rights.”
Ome-mor laughed. “Just think about it. I think Aneko
is a good influence on your boy.” He left my father in deep thought.
* * *
“What have you found out?” The twins, Jedes, and I
were in my room with the door closed and Doro was standing outside with
instructions to not let anyone in. Jedes and I were sitting on my bed and the
boys were sharing a dark green high-back, cushioned chair.
Momo buried his face against his brother’s back.
“Haru-joul is definitely a dejeva,” Koko declared. “She treats her maid like
scum. Her maid put the wrong combination of oils in her bath, and she kicked
the old woman repeatedly. She screamed at the stable boy because she didn’t
like the way he saddled her tokuami.”
“Who did she talk to right before she went to the
archery field?”
“Her maid dressed her, and she chatted with the guy
to brought her food.”
“Who was her maid, and who brought her food?”
“Her maid was from Zendii; we don’t know her name.
She is married to the stable boy they brought to take care of their tokuami.
Or, at least we think so. The guy didn’t saddle the tokuami right because he
didn’t have enough time after they were kissing for an hour.”
“You were supposed to be watching Haru-joul, not her
stable boy. Who brought her food?”
Koko shrugged. “Kego-do brought her some soup, bread,
and fruit from the kitchen.”
“She kept touching his chest and playing with her
hair,” Momo said with revulsion.
“Oh, see, that’s how you know a woman is bad. If she
ever does that to you, you should definitely leave.”
The twins nodded their understanding even as Jedes
shot me a glare. “Then Ome-mor went to her room and they went to the archery
field,” Koko finished.
“Did they talk about anything suspicious?”
“No. Ome-mor said he and the king had a meeting later
and then they left.”
“Good work, boys,” Jedes said. “Go back and pay close
attention to who she meets with.” The twins left and she put her hand on my
knee. “You can’t suspect Ome-mor without proof. He is friends with your father
and there has been peace between Mokii and Zendii for hundreds of years.”
“No, you’re right. If Ome-mor is trying to kill my
father, I will have to get rid of him on my own.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Find out for
sure who is behind this, get proof, and then bring it to your father. You could
warn him that someone is out to kill him, but tell him you have no suspects.”
“Have you
met
my father? If I go to him and
tell him someone is out to kill him, he will beat me just for not acting like a
proper prince. Or worse; he’ll believe me. He’s already so suspicious that he
would probably lock the castle down and interrogate everyone. Nothing would
anger the Zendii house more than to be held in suspicion, and this kingdom does
not need any more enemies.”
There was a scuffle outside the door a moment before
it flew open and Rojio stomped in. “You are to meet your father in his study
right now,” he demanded. My father’s advisor hated being used as a messenger,
so his fury was understandable as he turned and marched back out.
I sighed and stood. “Bring me something good from the
kitchens for dinner.”
“I always do, but I don’t think he’ll put you in the
dungeons if he is trying to marry you to Haru-joul.”
“He will when I tell him I would never marry the
dejeva.”
“Here’s an idea, don’t pick a fight,” she suggested.
“Are you saying I should---”
“No, of course not. Just make it sound like you are
in agreement with whatever he says. Then, when he thinks you will do what he
demands, make it sound like she isn’t good enough for you or the crown. If your
father is anything, it’s greedy. He will not waste you on someone unworthy.”
I considered her advice on my way to my father’s
study. Even if I did everything right, I never left my father’s study without
some kind of punishment. Two guards stood at the doors, which was an absolute
giveaway to the king’s location.
I really need to lecture the guards.
I
entered without knocking and closed the door quietly behind me.
My father was sitting at his desk, and we were alone.
“Sit down,” he said.
The room was small and dark with no windows. The
fireplace sat cold behind him with a huge painting of my mother over it. Across
the room from the desk was a bookshelf filled with handwritten journals and
grimoires that belonged to our family. The only light came from the lit torches
placed sparingly around the room.
I sat in the chair across from him at the desk.
“Hello, Father. How was your meeting with Ome-mor?”
“The same as always; he wants Picor.”
“Picor is a suffering population. If he wants to
relocate the people to a place with better food and jobs, I think it is worth
considering. But he cannot expect to keep all the profits from the land.”
“He has the equipment to put the land to better use,
so I was planning to allow him conditional access, in which he can mine, but I
get forty percent of the profits and several of my men oversee the any and all
activity. Of course, he also has to pay for the relocation of the people.”
“That sounds fair to me. Did you call me here because
you want me to talk to Ome-mor about it?”
“No. I will speak with Ome-mor myself, and he will
agree to it. I brought you here to ask you how you feel about having Haru-joul
as a wife.”
“I think she is beautiful and would make a great
queen and image for the kingdom. She is well-mannered in public, knows all the
right words, and has the lineage to back it up. I also feel she is a spoiled,
egocentric woman who would drain the kingdom dry of money before she could even
become queen. I would prefer to marry her tokuami than her,” I said as
pleasantly as I could. Since he didn’t reach over and hit me, I must have
managed it pretty well.
He leaned back and considered me. “You would have the
title of joul.”
“I don’t want the prince title. I’m just fine not
even having a family name.” That was a lie, but no title was better than a
royal one. The joul title would be closer to the mor title; the king title,
which is what I was trying to avoid.
“Ome-mor wants to offer her as part of the Picor
deal.”
“Of course he does. Zendii has nowhere near the
riches that Mokii does. He will use anything he can as currency that isn’t
actual money. Are you going to make me marry her?” I was only nineteen; I
didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Are you serious? She is the princess of Zendii. If
you wanted to marry her because of her beauty, I think she is suitable, but
there are far better women out there. We have no alliance with Anoshii and they
have several beautiful daughters that I can marry you to.”
“So you called me here to ask me if I
want
to
marry her? Thank you for considering my feelings.”
“I also wanted your opinion on Ome-mor.”
That made me suspicions, so I took a deep breath. My
father smelled as he usually did; full of greed, pride, and anger. There really
was no good quality to be found in him, but he was my father. He didn’t discard
me at birth and for the most part, he loved me in his own way… usually.
“You have an advisor.”
“Of course I do; I can’t rely on you,” he snarled. “I
tried to make you sit in on councils before. You can’t run away every other day
and hold a decent position in the court.”
“I don’t want a position in the court. I want to take
the chance to travel and explore before something happens to you and I get
chained to the throne.”
“You have to grow up and learn responsibility,” he
growled. If I weren’t sitting so far away, he would have hit me for sure. “I
know you have the twins spying on either Ome-mor or his daughter. I want to
know why, and what you found out.”
I sighed. If I lied or told him I suspected nothing,
he would put me in the dungeons, and then the assassin would have easy access
to the king. “I think someone may be trying to kill you.”
“Someone from Zendii?”
“That is my suspicion.”
“Do not lie to me, boy.”
“Yes. The assassin is from Zendii.”
“How do you know? What have you heard?” When I didn’t
answer, he glared at me. “Don’t tell me you smelled it. You really are just
ridiculous sometimes.”
My father didn’t believe me from the time I was a
tiny child when I told him I could smell a person’s intentions and emotions.
Every scent was seemingly stronger for me than anyone else I knew. Jedes
believes it is a natural power of mine, similar to her premonitions. I learned
from a young age to keep it secret because my father found it extremely
embarrassing and foolish.
Suddenly, the torches all went out and we were
plunged into darkness. I jumped up and felt my way around the desk until I
reached my father, then slapped my hand over his mouth as he tried to yell for
the guards. Assuming the assassin couldn’t see in the dark, it was imperative
my father did not give away his location by calling out.
The moment we were both hidden behind the desk, the
door burst open and light spilled in. I peeked through the small gap under the
desk and could see the boots of the person entering as well as one of the
guards unconscious on the floor outside.
As soon as the door shut and it was pitch black
again, I reached over for the fireplace, felt along the upper inside seam
beneath the mantle, and pulled the small trigger. The back panel of the
fireplace slid away and I grabbed for my father blind. I caught his arm and
pushed him in, careful to protect his head from hitting the stone. He was
temperamental enough without a concussion. I made sure he was fully inside the
escape passage before I turned back. My father grabbed me and tried to pull me
through, but I managed to shake him off, push him further in, and press the
trigger again. The major defect in this particular escape tunnel was that it
could only be opened and closed from the outside.
The assassin, drawn to the sound of the fireplace,
was slowly getting closer. I could smell the person’s scent very well now that
they were close and unaccompanied. I felt along the desk to go the opposite way
of the assassin, when my foot set down on something smooth and I slipped.
Landing hard on my tailbone, I couldn’t hold back a painful grunt. Getting up
was even more difficult, as I had knocked over a stack of papers on the floor
and everywhere I put my hand, there was paper.
A hand landed on my shoulder and turned me towards
the assassin, so I reached up, buried my fist in their shirt, and pulled them
closer until I could get press my nose against their flesh and confirm without
a doubt who exactly was trying to kill my father. I had to warn Haru-joul as
well, because this person’s hate was too great to be confined to my father.
Before I could let go or strike, the person kneeled
in front of me and there was a sharp, hot pain in my stomach. I reached down
and felt both the handle of the knife and the assassin’s hand still on it. My
blood pouring from the wound felt extremely hot. The assassin gently tilted me
onto my side and the pain was too much for me to uncurl. Then they patted me
softly on the arm, stood, and walked away.
* * *
My dreams were morbid and full of fire; it was the
type of dream that left me more exhausted than when I went to sleep. For the
first time, I knew what it felt like to burn in fire, and I did so… over and
over in my dreams. Sometimes I knew it was a dream, sometimes everything was just
so confusing and vague. I hurt the entire time, and even when I heard Jedes
crying and begging for me to wake up, I couldn’t. Most of the time I was aware
I had been stabbed and even that something went wrong. Towards the end, the
burning was fading and only exhaustion kept me from opening my eyes.
It was the girl screaming that finally woke me.
I sat up to quickly and gasped at the sharp pain in
my side. Suka-mas Mokomo, the physician, pushed me back down while Jedes cried
and called me a fool for scaring her. Once I calmed down, I relaxed and let the
pain settle. “What happened?” I asked.
“You were found in the king’s private study, stabbed
with a poisoned dagger.”
“How did you save me?”
“I almost didn’t,” he answered, glaring at me.
Mokomo took care of my injuries since I was a baby.
He was one of the very few people who cared about me for who I was instead of
just the son of the king. I spent a lot of time with him and since he had no
children of his own, he seemed to enjoy my enthusiasm for learning his craft.
My father, of course, hated me spending any time with Mokomo.
“Who screamed?”
“When?” Jedes asked.
“Just now. I heard a screaming girl. It woke me up.”
“We were here with you for days while you slept.
Nobody screamed… except for you a couple of times. You got an infection after
Mokomo-mas gave you an antidote to the poison. You kept yelling that it
burned.”
“It should be safe for you to get out of bed now, but
you can’t run or do anything strenuous,” Mokomo said.
I flipped off the covers. Luckily, I had pants on.
The bandage wrapped around my abdomen looked excessive, but as I sat up and put
my feet on the cold floor, there was no real pain. I stood and tested the
strength of my legs. “I’ve been asleep for days? Is my father safe?”
“The castle is locked down and your father has been
secluded to his chambers with limited contact, the best guards, and food
testers. He is waiting for you to wake and tell him who the killer is.”
“Good. Nobody is allowed in here, not even Haru-joul.
I haven’t woken yet,” I said, yanking the sheet from my bed. I went to my foot
chest and shuffled through blankets and towels before I found a few more
sheets, which I tied together end-to-end. Then I gingerly made my way to the
glass door that led to the balcony. “If somebody tries to insist, tell them I’m
getting worse.”