The Royals

Chapter 15

'Better?' he asked.

'I miss Mut.' 'Oh, well, you are, uh, close.' He sounded hurt.

'Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

He pulled away from her to sit up straighter against the wall. 'How did you mean it?'

'He's been my travelling companion my whole life.' 'Kate, he's your brother.'

She nodded into the darkness. 'I know but we've shared so much.'

'Would you like me better with fur and fleas??

The princess laughed and broke the growing tension.

'No, I don't think fur would do a thing for you. Funny, though, I don't think Mut ever had fleas not even in summer.'

'I can name a few soldiers who'd like that secret.'

'He's definitely a man with hidden talents.' Too much hidden these days, Kate thought.

'Could we talk about something else?'

'I thought you liked him.'

'He's okay for a prince. Swings his sword like a girl, though."

'Like me?' 'No, you fight like a man.' Thank you, I think.'

He wasn't making this easy for her. She longed to tell him of the attacks, but couldn't bear to accuse her own twin - especially when Maarcus ridiculed the entire conversation. Kate sat up, took a breath and let it out, then tried one last time. "You do believe he's all right? Without us, I mean?"

Maarcus took her shoulders and gently pulled her back against his chest. 'Kate, he's fine. He's nice and warm in the palace. We're freezing inside a cave too small for a mid-size bear."

His breath was hot against her neck, but it sent chills down her spine. If she didn't move soon, she'd be choos ing her consort, a princess's suitor. 'Maarcus?'

'Hmm?' he whispered, lips lightly brushing her jawbone.

'Do you think we can do this?"

'Oh, I know I can.' His voice was a deep rumble. He shifted beneath her to kiss her cheek.

'I've no doubt of it,' she said, still not really trying to stop him. But a lot of people are depending on us. It makes us more vulnerable to the elfwitch.'

'I promise not to tell her if you don't.' His hands began to massage and press. His fingers found the pouch where she'd hidden the coin.

'Touch that again and you're a dead man.' The words were out before she considered them.

His hands paused. 'Pardon me, princess, but I assure you I am not interested in material wealth.' He tried to sound amused, but each word was clipped with annoyance.

'Sorry. I didn't mean .

'Oh, just forget it. I think I hear nature calling any way.'

Kate bent forward to let him scoot past. "Just make sure it doesn't have fur and fangs.' Judging by his noncommit tal grunt as he crawled back out, the joke fell flat.

'The wind's died down,' he called back. 'We might as well get moving while the light's good. Your highness.' The sound of splashing followed.

Kate waited a discreet moment after the water stopped then shoved the packs outside. She headed out next.

A hand roughly yanked her to her feet.

'Maarc-' Maarcus was leaning against a tree, hog-tied and gagged.

'Glad you could join us, princess,' said a man she'd never seen before. He quickly roped her arms behind her back. The prince sends his regards.'

'Pruns? Wha' pruns?' The Shoreman tried to speak around the cloth.

Kate wanted to feel surprise, but this thug only con firmed her worst fears about Henry.

'I hear the elfwitch does as well. Come along.'

'The prince does the elfwitch's bidding?' Kate asked, hoping against hope that she was wrong.

'Just say they've got an agreement - nothin' you need to worry about till we get where we goin'. Now move." He shoved Kate ahead of him.

The princess tripped a step forward, then recovered her balance and stayed rooted where she was. 'You can't just leave him here. He'll freeze to death!"

The man whipped out another filthy rag and flapped it in her face. His smile showed blackened and missing teeth. His breath smelled of rotten meat. 'My orders are to deliver you unhurt. These aren't gen'rally harmful. Do we understand each other?"

She eyed the disgusting shred of fabric. 'Yes.'

'Good. Now hand over that knife you always carry.'

'Knife?'

The man calmly walked to where Maarcus sat and booted him in the stomach. The Shoreman cried out and doubled over in pain.

'Your knife."

Kate looked through tear-filled eyes at the groaning Maarcus. Mechanically she offered up her knife. 'I keep a second in my pack.'

He gave her another gap-toothed grin. 'Never know when you might need a spare weapon,' he said reasonably, as he accepted her blade. He hefted the knife. 'Nice piece o' workmanship.' He grasped the handle and aimed for Maarcus.

Kate flinched but tried to regain her usual air of indifference. She shrugged. 'It was a gift from the pr-'

"The prince. Isn't that fine.' He stowed the knife. 'Don't worry. I'll see that it finds its way back to its proper owner.' He dug around in her pack and pulled out the ring she'd taken from the dead man. 'Well look at this! I guess we know what happened to our runner, don't we?'

Kate stared past him as she remembered pushing the body over the dreadful cliff only two nights ago.

'As for your friend here, I'll send for him as soon as I deliver you. You don't co-operate, he dies. He isn't here when I get back…' The ruffian spread his hands as if the outcome were beyond his control. 'You won't die, but let's just say my prince won't be happy.'

'Whi' pruns?' Maarcus insisted. Whi' 'un?'

The man kicked his prisoner again, brutally connecting on the side of the Shoreman's head.

Maarcus fell over without a sound.

The cut-throat spat on the unconscious body. "There's only one true prince. The rest 're pretenders. Hangers-on like you'd do well to remember that.' His face lit up with a nasty expression, then the heel of his boot met his helpless victim's nose with a sickening crunch. 'Didn't say he had to be in prime shape,' he explained to no one in particular.

The man turned to Kate, grabbed her elbow and squeezed hard. 'Let's go, princess.'

Stunned by her captor's vicious treatment of Maarcus and completely disheartened by her brother's betrayal, Kate silently went to meet her fate.

Despite Ginni's pleas for one more attempt, Revered Sister sent her back to her room. She followed the guide quietly, too preoccupied to pay much attention to their route. The way seemed longer, but she dismissed that as an offshoot of her distress.

The bedchamber appeared darker and damper. Each footfall on the wood floor sounded with a flat thud rather than a sharp tap. These too, Ginni assumed, only reflected her mood.

Ginni pulled off the boots and soggy stockings again, and left them where they landed. She threw herself atop the covers and sulked. Knowing she acted like a child didn't change her behavior. She hadn't been this disap pointed since she'd been a child.

If she could not prove her value to the Forty-nine, she had no business here. They would not teach her and she would come out the worse for their bedeviling her. She would rest and gather her strength today. Tonight would be soon enough to find her way out.

She had not meant to dream. The Revered Sisters had already shown her the threat. Yet she did dream.

Children haunted her: an elf boy tortured by his foster parents, a dwarf girl taken in but still in terrible danger.

Ginni never gave thought to bearing children of her own, but she always felt a special affinity for orphans. Not one herself, but oh so very close at times, so very close.

Unease yielded to short-lived relief when the vision Igave way to the witches.

Revered Mother leaned back in her chair and set her feet on a padded stool. 'Roslin's essence must be explored. The girl has absorbed more than I would have thought. Perhaps Roslin prepared her in advance.'

'No one in living memory has ever succeeded in trans ferring a complete essence. She is at great risk and must be told,' said Dita.

'Eventually,' argued the other woman, whom Ginni had yet to hear named.

'Sisters.' Revered Mother slapped her hand on the nearby table-top. 'Since the girl will be our guest for many days to come, there will be plenty of opportunities to talk with her about Roslin's legacy - this apparent possession. Meantime, there's no cause to quarrel over such trivia.'

From the smug triumph in Revered Mother's eyes, it seemed to Ginni that the elder mage was already speaking for her captive student's benefit; and Ginni didn't like what she was hearing.

Revered Mother turned her full attention to the second sister. 'Masha?" So that was her name.

'Yes, Revered Mother?'

'We have been inhospitable hosts. I don't believe the girl has been fed since her arrival. She must be hungry.'

'Yes, Revered Mother."

'And Masha.'

'Yes?'

'See that she is properly accompanied. We wouldn't want her to tire herself wandering the halls in search of that which we should have provided.'

.Masha bowed, understanding just as Ginni did the veiled command for a guard to be stationed outside the locked door. 'Yes, Revered Mother. Caronn?' she continued. Revered Mother's eyes flashed. 'Excuse me?'

'I beg your pardon. Revered Mother.' Masha cor rected herself. Her voice was contrite, but held a tinge of resentment.

'We enter an era where carelessness can be deadly,' warned Caronn.

'Yes, Revered Mother.' Masha paused, glanced at the tight-lipped Dita and back to their leader. 'Don't you find her talent fascinating?' 'How so?'

'You just hope to .. .' Dita broke in, then trailed off.

'To what?' Masha asked, daring her to speak.

The mage bit her lip and kept quiet.

'Dita, you must learn not to blurt out ill-considered thoughts."

The chastened mage looked toward the smiling Masha and back to Caronn. 'Yes, Revered Mother.'

'Masha, you have duties.'

'Yes, Revered Mother.'

Ginni frowned in her sleep. The entire conversation felt stiff and false, as if it had been arranged just for her. Her dream twisted back to the elf boy, huddled among his goats and the dwarf girl, shivering beneath her thick woolens.

The mage tossed on her bed, knocking her pillows to the floor.

The One stood among the elves with a small smile playing at her lips. Notti tried to see her as the dragon might have, but each time he made the effort he found himself thinking of thick blankets and warm braziers.

'My people.' Her soft voice commanded the crowd to be still lest they miss her next words. "Tonight's feast will be a poor celebration of our greatness.'

A wave of grumbling discontent flowed from the group.