The Royals

Chapter 41

The river finally spat up the three travellers onto the shore. The water was as cold as ice and just as clear. Lyda saw not a trace of the deep red she remembered. It was as if that other river of blood had never existed. Almost.

The journey left the distrust of old wounds in its wake. Lyda thought she should fight the ghosts of false pain, yet they tugged so insistently at her mind and soul. She looked warily at Willam and Ceeley.

Willam seemed much the worse for his ordeal. He still babbled under his breath, but the words had taken on an eerie cast. She couldn't make out everything as his voice rose and fell, but he kept repeating 'babies' and 'promises.' Each time, she felt the accusation and her shame redoubled.

She clenched her fists, ready to... what? No good. She searched the ground for a jagged rock with a sharp point. There at Ceeley's feet was the perfect weapon. She

picked it up and up and up until it was over her head set to strike. She'd have to kill Willam if she couldn't silence his

scorn any other way.. She opened her hand and dropped the stone. Such a casual thought of murder horrified her, yet there it was. She couldn't deny it. Lyda turned to Ceeley, hoping the delight of a living

child would distract her from base speculations and her

dead past. 'Celia? Celia, are you all right?" The girl looked out through haunted eyes. She started to speak but only managed a squeak before rushing up the embankment, throwing herself in the grass, and sobbing.

Lyda shivered. They were so cold and so alone in

the elfwitch's territory. She dragged herself out of the

freezing river. With barely a backward glance at Willam,

she wrapped herself around the girl.

'I tried,' the dwarf said. 'I tried, but I couldn't help. And they screamed. Oh, they screamed and screamed." She put her hands over her ears as if to block out the sound. Her eyes went from possessed to feverish. 'And the elfwitch has taken all the strong ones, all of them." Lyda held the girl tighter, fighting her own impulse to

shove her away in disgust. "It'll be all right now. It'll be

all right,' she whispered through chattering teeth.

But it wouldn't. Her elves had not guided her to this place. Somehow, the elfwitch had found them and brought them here. Nothing would ever be all right ever again.

'Our baby!' Willam wailed. You killed our baby!" "No!' Ceeley shouted back. 'It wasn't me. I tried to save her. She wouldn't listen. Oh, she wouldn't listen." Lyda knew Willam addressed Lyda herself rather than

the child, but how could she break through Ceeley's panic to explain it to her? 'No, sweetheart. It wasn't you,' she whispered. She rocked Ceeley and hummed a traditional lullaby to drown

out her husband. 'Maybe it wasn't any of us." Maybe it was Willam.

Only the Sisters knew what Hadrian was doing to Maarcus, but he was ingenious in his t*****e. He had spent years learning to uncover a victim's frailties and brought all of his knowledge to bear on Kate. For the next several days - or maybe it was hours, who knew?-he did his best to disorient the princess.

Kate's anger drained away too suddenly, leaving her feeling sluggish and sleepy. Each time she roused herself, she awoke in a different corner of her cell. Once she was in a different cell altogether. He could only have managed it through toxins or magic,

Her chamberpot was emptied without pattern. Either it was filled to the brim rendering it worthless or the porcelain was scrubbed so clean that she'd swear on her foster-mother's grave that it had never been used.

The guards took to delivering the food in undependable portions at unpredictable hours. A large feast sitting heavy in her stomach might well be trailed by another. Unsure when her next meal might arrive, Kate ate as much as she dared, only to realize the chamberpot remained full and foul-smelling. The following hours brought stale bread and no fluid to wash it down. The princess resolved to fast rather than succumb to Hadrian's manipulations, and immediately felt better.

When Hadrian discovered his half-sister's small meas ure of control, he became furious and instantly chose a

different route. "You'll learn not to thwart me,' he warned her. 'I know your weaknesses. Maarcus is yours and you are his. I'm going to enjoy this."

Against their will, the captives quickly proved him correct. Maarcus and Kate sat huddled in their new joint cell after Prince Hadrian's most recent session. The potions hidden in the princess's drink had backfired more than not. It was clear through her delirium she had irritated the prince by prattling on about Ceeley. This was a man who had no use for children.

Hadrian hadn't won yet, but they were still imprisoned - and Maarcus was growing weaker and weaker. His head hung heavy and low, his chin against his chest. They were both shivering like frightened children - and maybe that was what they'd been reduced to. The lashmarks on Maarcus' back and arms were not healing well, and Kate suspected their captors of lacing the straps of the leather whip with poison to keep the wounds festering.

Still shaky herself, Kate gently probed around the cuts but there wasn't much she could do without fresh water. Woundwort would help a great deal, but she might as well wish for their freedom.

All the while, she whispered into his unconscious ears. 'Maarcus, we've got to escape. Come on, you can do it. We've got to survive for the Ash Kingdom."

Over and over, she murmured to him but got no response. Finally she tried invoking the names of those he loved and had hoped to protect. For Zera, Maarcus. Don't let her death go unpunished. For Ceeley, Maarcus. For little girls who survive against the odds. Un-cle Ma-arcs,' she sang in a child's voice, using the girl's pet-name for him.

He roused slightly but did not come to full con sciousness.

'All right, Maarcus, all right,' she said, too disheart ened to keep at him. 'Don't you worry. We'll get out of this somehow. She hugged him tightly trying to warm

him, attempting to comfort them both. 'How touching,' growled Ivan.

'He needs a physician.' Kate tried to keep the anger

out of her voice.

'I'm sure you've got just the one. Grandfather Maarcus, perhaps?' The guard sneered, clearly enjoying himself. 'At least bring fresh water to let me clean the cuts.'

The guard hitched up his pants in a show of virility.

'The prince said not to, but I don't guess that can hurt.

What'll you do for me?" Kate swallowed her first retort. If she could get him to open the gate wide enough... 'Ah, well, let's have the water first,' she said, with a coquettish smile.

He echoed her smile, then stepped back to his station. 'It won't be long now,' Kate whispered to Maarcus. "You've got to be ready.'

The guard returned carrying a pitcher. He made as if to unlock the door then swung the other arm, dousing Kate and Maarcus with cold water.

Kate gasped. Maarcus grunted awake. The guard laughed at her. 'You must think me an

idiot. I serve my master. You would do well to remem ber that.'

Prince Henry took breakfast in his study. He invited Abadan to join him, along with whomever he wished. Still Henry hoped to keep the session sane, and his heart sank when the magician arrived with an odd entourage. There was Abadan himself, of course, and Walther, as well as

Sir Maarcus and the physician's keeper, Harmon. Henry waved them forward and went back to picking at

his food. He couldn't force himself to exclude Maarcus; neither could he look forward to involving the failing physician as he had earlier. More than anything, the prince simply lacked the energy to deal with the man just now.

'I've lost him again," Abadan announced. Henry swore. 'Does nothing go right in this cursed

town?'

'What does that mean?' Maarcus asked. His eyes were wild and his hair seemed to have escaped combing since Henry had last seen him. Harmon hovered behind him

as if he had the power to hold the man together. By the Sisters, the prince thought, please don't make us explain it all again.

The magician continued with only a slight nod to the physician's request for an explanation. Either your grandson is back with Kate, which is very good news indeed, or he's not, which could mean . . .' This once, even the acerbic magician stopped short of pointing out the obvious.

'Never mind,' Maarcus said evenly. Some visions don't require magic to be seen."

Henry silently let out a sigh. The stubborn expression on Maarcus's face told him that the old physician was alert today and had chosen not to speculate on the worst possibilities until forced. Henry didn't blame him. It was far better to assume that his weasely half-brother had placed Kate and Maarcus together for some reason, rather than that he'd killed them.

It should have been a comforting thought, but the Dragon Prince didn't find much solace in the unknown these days. He felt sure the physician agreed, being the sort of man who enjoyed being able to explain all the details of a problem.

'My grandson can't wait much longer,' Sir Maarcus added.

'He's right,' Walther spoke quietly.

The dwarf seldom spoke without a need.

'Is there

something I should know?' Prince Henry asked. Walther blushed, still uncomfortable when singled out. "Not that I can put in so many words,' he answered. 'Only

that we would do well to act.'

'I just said that, young man,' snapped Maarcus. Terrific, Henry thought. Whatever Walther was thinking,

he'll be too intimidated to voice it now. Henry fingered the dragon coin in his pocket like a lucky talisman. The token led him to considering the talents of true dragons and ultimately to the merce nary and his dragon. "What about Wanton Tom and Grosik? They should be back from their mission by now."

'No one's heard from them since they left here, sire.' 'Probably stepping back from the front,' the prince offered. He turned to Abadan. 'Can't you raise him with your box?"

'I can try." His voice made it clear what he thought of

the odds of success. 'Please do. In the meanwhile, we have other problems

to tend to." *You would dismiss your sister and my grandson so

easily?' the physician accused.

'Sir Maarcus, Henry hissed.

Harmon moved between them - as if the prince would

have punched the old man.

'Sir Maarcus," he repeated in normal tones. 'I assure you I do not take your grandson's situation lightly, all the more because my sister is with him. Nonetheless, let me remind you that we are battling the elfwitch. All else,

including my sister-' He coughed and paused to regain control. All else must yield to that.'

The physician glared at him. 'Be careful that Alvaria

does not wriggle past your defenses and steal these two

while you focus on your nose."

The words carried the heavy weight of truth and settled like stones in the prince's stomach. Hadn't he said as much himself hours ago? Still he refused to admit he agreed with the old man, but instead argued, 'We must deal with the families of the men slain in battle."

"There is nothing you can do,' Maarcus said. "The men

are frozen corpses." "The men are dead, but their families live!' Henry responded hotly.