Silent Kingdom (3 page)

Go. Now
, I urged myself.

I swung my leg over the windowsill and leaned out to study the stone wall outside. There was a narrow ledge running the length of the wall a short drop down, and plenty of hand and footholds in the gaps between the stonework, if I could keep my feet sure and my hands strong. Reaching out with a shaking hand, I grasped the top of one of the stones and strained to reach the ledge with my foot. For one terrifying instant I hung halfway out the window and halfway in, struggling to find the courage to let go of the sill and swing out onto the ledge.

Gasping, I let go. I swayed and caught myself, clutching the wall with both hands and regaining my balance. The wind whipped my dress around my legs as I crept sideways along the ledge, and my fingers slipped when I felt for new handholds. I paused, teeth chattering, and carefully wiped one hand at a time on the skirt of my dress.

My head spun and my pulse pounded. Somehow I had to find my way down the wall, when I could barely even hold on now. I dared a look over my shoulder to try to search for another foothold but immediately regretted it. The world tilted around me; my fingers weren’t strong enough; I was losing my hold; I was going to fall…

There was a thud beside me and strong arms grasped me roughly by the arm. Narek. A scream swirled inside me but never made its way past my throat. In a stomach-churning moment, he lifted me over his head and into the arms of another guard waiting at the open window. They wrenched me inside, shoving a sack over my head and tying it in place. I tried to shout, hoping someone in the castle might hear, but a hand clamped over my mouth, pressing the rough sack close to my nose until my whole world was nothing but darkness and a musty scent. Though I tried to kick and struggle, the guards were too strong. Together, they lifted me effortlessly, carrying me on a winding route through the palace.

When I heard doors swing open, chill air snapped at my face and ripped my breath away. The echoes of the waves against the cliff ’s face sounded like distant thunder in my ears and the stench of salt made me scrunch my nose. I shook with fear and cold as the men dragged me forward and tied my wrists and ankles together. At the edge, blinded and disoriented, I could sense the dizzying drop. Though I couldn’t see it, the sight I’d memorized as a child flashed before my mind’s eye: a sharp descent beyond the jagged cliff; the grey, windswept clouds above; and the deep, swirling water below.

I knew the usual method for executing criminals all too well. A plunge into the cold water of a small cove cut into the side of the cliff, where the waves were placid and where the sea was deep enough that rocks were scarce. With no weights to pull one down, the struggle was prolonged and violent. I’d read once that drowning was the worst way to die. At the time I’d wondered how the writer could know this for a fact, if he were still living and could not consult with the dead. I had no desire to find out now if he was right.

Without ceremony, they yanked off the sack and dumped me over the edge. For one brief instant the wind tore at my body and muted my scream, and then I plunged into icy darkness.

Panic pulled my body out of shock and into motion. I flailed around in the water, trying to find the surface but unable to tell which way was up. My feet kicked in a failed attempt to force off my shoes; I wriggled my arms and shoulders as I strained against the rope.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before I broke the surface. I spluttered and gasped, struggling to suck in air. Legs kicking in unison, I fought in vain to keep my head up. The waves dragged me forward, onto my face, pushing my mouth and nose under as I bobbed in the water. Salt stung my eyes and burned my throat. I squirmed furiously, but without the help of my arms, tipping myself onto my back was impossible. My dress, full of the sea, entangled my body and dragged me down again.

Another shot of desperation surged through my veins and I pulled fiercely at the ropes around my feet again. To my shock, the binds gave way, cutting deeply into my ankles as they fell away and sank into the water. Blood seeping from my raw skin tinged the foamy waves around me pink. I kicked to propel myself upward, giving me a chance to lift my head out of the water, but I couldn’t force my hands free.

I knew my chance at survival was still frail. Over and over, no matter how I kicked and fought, the current pulled me down. Each time it was nearly impossible to fight my way to the surface, and I was too disoriented to know if I was headed toward the shore or not.

My heart felt heavy in my chest and my lungs burned. As I sank deeper into the water than ever before and my body seemed made of lead, black spots danced before my eyes. I tried to kick, to force myself upward one more time, but it seemed impossible. Death’s fingers tightened around my chest.

Don’t give up.
The thought felt powerful, stronger than my panic and confusion.
You can do this.

With a final effort, I kicked and stretched my bound wrists upward—or in the direction I thought was above water. I rose, so slowly, too slowly, until at last the surface was so near I thought I could see the glitter of starlight on the water. I could imagine air rushing into my lungs, painful and beautiful all at once. Just a few more kicks, and I would break the surface again; I could survive to fight a little longer. I kicked once, twice—reaching, reaching.

When my head rose above the water at last, the night air felt heavy around me, the tumult of the waves strangely dull in my ears. Why was it still so dark? I gasped, sucking in air.

But no…it wasn’t air. I was still underwater. My lungs gulped in water, letting it rush into my chest, filling me like a final weight that dragged me down still deeper into the sea. The darkness rushed and spun, and the void far below me yawned ever wider, stretching its arms to receive its next victim. Then the shadows consumed me.

CHAPTER 2

C
oughing, I jerked awake and vomited up seawater. Every inch of my body trembled with cold so intense I wondered if my insides were freezing. My back rested against solid wood, though the world still swayed and I could hear the rush of water around me. I opened my eyes to the night sky, as soft and dark as the velvet robes my father wore for his coronation. The stars burned pale and distant and the moon was gone, buried behind thick black clouds.

A man’s face loomed over me, blocking out the sky. Snatching my bound hands into fists, I swung at him, but his strong arms grasped mine. I thrashed, trying to aim my kicks low while I worked to wrench my hands free.

“Don’t panic!” the man said. “I’m here to help you. You were drowning and I pulled you from the water. You’re safe now. You’re safe!”

His words took a moment to register. Pulling back my fists, I blinked and studied his face. He was a man of perhaps thirty, with a thick brown beard and kind dark eyes. Best of all, his hair was cropped short to signify he was not a noble, and he wore no weapons other than a short knife clutched in one hand.

“To cut your binds,” he explained when my eyes landed on his blade.

My heart slowed to a soft thud and I let him slice through the rope. He was my rescuer, not another threat. I winced as I studied my raw wrists, and my body still felt heavy and sodden, but I was safe; I was alive.

As if echoing my thoughts, the man called out, “She’s alive!” He glanced over his shoulder, apparently speaking to someone else on the sailboat. The boat was not large, but in my brief glance, I couldn’t see anyone else nearby.

Closing my eyes, I drew a deep breath, relishing the feel of the air, even if it hurt my burning lungs. My throat was swollen, my mouth tasted bitter, and every muscle in my body ached. I shook and coughed some more before someone threw a blanket over my body and lifted me. Enveloped in wool yet still shivering, I felt arms carry me across the boat and into a cabin. I turned and saw a woman’s face, her long blonde hair shimmering almost white in the starlight.

Once inside, the woman set me on the bed, stripped me out of my soaked clothes, and replaced them with thick, warm ones. She laid me on the single cot and pulled blanket after blanket over me, then climbed in beside me and pulled me close until my shivers subsided. Slowly, gently, warmth crept over my body. I slipped into unconsciousness.

~ ~ ~

When I opened my eyes, I was fiercely hot, and the cabin was shifting while the world lurched and shuddered beneath me. All around was the roaring of waves: angry, relentless, and deadly. They screamed in my ears until I could feel water closing in. It was beating against my chest, soaking the cot, swallowing me whole.

Thrashing at the sheets, I tried to shout, even though the effort tore at my raw throat. No sound came out. Beads of water coated my forehead and snaked down my temples. My chest was wet, soaking through the nightgown I wore, and the sheets were drenched.
I’m dying.

The world was dark. Water weighed heavily on my lungs and I could scarcely force air into them anymore. They were burning; my whole body was burning. My muscles were on fire and my throat ached—water was pouring down it. Stinging saltwater dripped into my eyes.

A cold hand reached out and touched my forehead, causing me to shudder.
Don’t let me die!
I wanted to cry out the words, to plead for help, but my throat was too constricted.
Why don’t you pull me out before I drown?

The darkness descended upon me, and it was strangely silent. Peaceful.

~~~

The next time my eyes opened, the world was steady and quiet. My trembling, sweaty body felt weak and my lungs were heavy. I reached to push back the sheets but a woman’s gentle voice stopped me.

“Stay still,” she murmured.

All of my muscles hurt enough that it took an effort to turn my head and face her. She sat in a wooden chair beside the bed. With one arm she pulled me to a sitting position, while with the other she pressed a cup to my mouth until I forced down some water. It was refreshing on my tongue, but scratched and hurt like gravel as it slithered down my throat. I grimaced and she lay me back against the pillow.

My eyes fluttered shut. I was so tired. A breeze drifted across my face, a breath of soft air that temporarily chilled the fire beneath my skin, and I sank into sleep once more.

~~~

It was a delight to be in my riding clothes again, to wear my light, comfortable leggings and tunic rather than a heavy royal gown. My hair hung loose, free for the breeze to whisper through it. Laughing, I pulled back on my mare Felwe’s reins and glanced toward Gillen. His hair was tied back from his face, giving me a clear view of the smile dancing on his lips.

He sighed, leaning back in his saddle as Azlyn, his sleek black stallion, slowed to a walk. “It’s good to be away from all of the tiresome lessons.”

I spread my arms wide, as if to embrace the empty expanse of the beach and the whole sea beside us. “An entirely free day to do as we please!”

The summer sun, still high in a perfect blue sky, warmed my back. I nodded toward the waves, where the light sparkled and flashed with each crest. The breeze cooled my cheeks and ruffled my hair, but it didn’t diminish the heat radiating back at us from the long stretch of pearly sand.

Gillen fired a mischievous grin in my direction. “I’ll race you to the water!”

Without waiting for a response, he dug his knees into Azlyn’s sides, making the horse lunge forward.

“This is not a fair contest!” I shouted. I urged Felwe toward the sea as Azlyn kicked sand back toward my face. Even if Gillen hadn’t gone first, he rode a royal stallion bred for speed and strength. I leaned low against Felwe’s back, dropping the reins to let her run freely until her white mane flew back into my face.

“Victory!” Gillen called as his stallion splashed into the waves.

Laughing, I entered the water just behind him. “An easy victory for someone who started unfairly,” I taunted.

We spent the afternoon at the beach, letting our horses roam nearby while we waded, splashed, and swam in the shallow sea and then lay out on the sand to dry. As the sun set, turning the sky fiery shades of orange, gold, and scarlet, we at last mounted our steeds and turned back toward the castle grounds.

When we ascended the last slope of the path leading toward home and rode into one of the side courtyards, guards and servants alike cast us small smiles. We were damp and covered in sand, still full of laughter and joy at our short-lived freedom.

“If only everyday could be like this,” I said as one of the stable boys led our horses away.

We trod the old cobblestones toward the heavily boarded double doors. As we passed beneath its shadow, the weatherworn statue of Queen Tamelle, her stone face etched into a stern expression, watched us disapprovingly. We walked on unfazed. The two guards standing watch under the arch of the entryway pushed open the doors and pressed their fists to their hearts in salutes as we passed through.

Gillen squared his shoulders for appearance’s sake, even as he turned to whisper to me. “I may be the crown prince, but don’t think I won’t still shirk my studies and training from time to time to have fun.” His eyes sparkled with mischief even as he tried to compose his face into a solemn expression and sink into his role of a confident and thoughtful prince.

But that was our last true moment of freedom. As we swept down the marble hallway, a servant intercepted us, pressing her lips into a firm line in an attempt to hide her worry.

“Your Highness?” She saluted to Gillen, who nodded in acknowledgment. “Your father has taken ill.”

~ ~ ~

The memory had been such a vivid dream that I was left with a throbbing ache in my chest when I awoke.

Gillen. Are you safe? Do you know I am in danger? Are you wondering where I am?

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping I could force the tears back before they trickled down my cheeks. Though I was not a priest, I dared to beg the Life-Giver for Gillen’s protection and then forced thoughts of him away.
I can’t change what’s happened,
I told myself firmly.

When I sat up, I was dizzy and my head felt too heavy for my neck. But I had at least managed to sit up, proving that my body was stronger than it had been before. I ran my fingers along the warm, dry skin of my arms and realized my fever had passed.

I was clothed in a comfortable nightgown that was too large for me, like a tent, rather than the dress I’d been wearing at the palace. I wondered if my rescuers had recognized my clothes from my uncle’s funeral and my father’s coronation, or if they had guessed my identity because of the red armband of mourning I had been wearing.
Or maybe it fell off in the water,
I thought hopefully.

Heart jolting with another fear, I lifted a hand to my tangled hair. Had they recognized me? I’d made few public appearances outside of balls and dinners spent with Misroth’s nobility, but I had my mother’s eyes and my father’s jaw and nose. Would my own features betray me
?

Deep breaths, Halia. You aren’t home, or in the dungeons, or dead. If they haven’t returned you to the king yet, they must not know.

Indeed, my surroundings were entirely foreign to me, as used to the castle’s extravagance as I was. Aside from the bed I occupied in the corner of the cozy room, it contained only a small hearth, a chest of drawers, a hand-woven rug, and a faded armchair. Everything was plain yet inviting, made for function rather than embellishment. Cream-colored curtains were drawn over a window beside me so only faint light trickled in. I pulled them back and gazed out on a small, empty patch of land backed by forest. A few leaves still clung to the trees, but most littered the ground. The moon stared down at me, so large and bright I had to blink to adjust my eyes. How many days had passed since the funeral, since the onset of the visions and truthful words that had nearly killed me?

I turned toward the opposite wall, to a fireplace red and warm with dying embers. Beside it was a closed door with the soft glow of candlelight seeping in through the gap between it and the floor. Voices followed the light, and I strained to hear the words.

“I know I’ve said it already, but I still can’t believe it. Who would do that to a child?” The woman spoke so low that I almost didn’t catch her words.

“Perhaps she is awake now. We need to talk to her.” I recognized the voice of the man who’d rescued me.

As they approached, I sank back onto my pillow and waited.

They pushed the door open. The woman held a candlestick in one hand, shielding it with the other. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice soft, her blue eyes gentle. She stepped toward the bed, setting the candle on the nightstand and reaching out a hand to feel my forehead. “Your fever has broken. How do you feel?”

Fine.
I opened my mouth to speak the words, but no sound came out. Not even a groan. Instinctively, my hand flew to my neck, clutching at my throat as if I could assess the internal damage.

The woman pulled up the chair sitting against the wall and sat beside the bed. Her husband stood behind her, his hands resting on the back of the chair. “It’s all right,” she said. “Your throat probably still hurts from nearly drowning. We only want to ensure you are safe and can return home.” She looked over her shoulder and patted her husband’s hand. “Fetch a pen and paper.”

When he returned, he held the pen and paper out to me. I grasped them uncertainly, realizing with growing uneasiness that they would want to know who I was, who my parents were.
What do I tell them? Where can I go now?

“Could you tell us who you are and what happened?” the man asked.

I swallowed.
I am in danger,
I scrawled across the paper slowly. My hand trembled, making my handwriting shaky and uneven.
I can’t tell you more. You can’t tell anyone about me, or those who did this will find me.

Glancing up, I watched concern flicker in the woman’s eyes. “I know you are frightened,” she said, “but you must have parents who are worried about you. They need to know you’re safe, and they can protect you from further danger.”

They are the ones who did this to me.
I drew a deep breath, trying to quell the pain and fear in my heart.

“I’m sorry…” the woman began, reaching out a gentle hand to grasp mine.

Pounding on the front door interrupted her, echoing throughout the house and matching the throbbing of my heart. The couple exchanged a glance, their eyes alert and their faces wary. I could read the question in their look:
Who would be at the door at this hour?

As the man left to answer the door, his wife crept to my bedroom doorway and peered out. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my imagination from running wild. The king and his loyal guardsmen believed I’d died in the sea, so why would they be searching for me now?

I tried to focus on the voices, but it was hard to hear over the beating of my heart.

Snatches of the conversation reached my ear: “We are sorry to trouble you… Princess Halia is missing…”

It was Narek’s voice. My throat tightened and the air caught in my chest, not letting me breathe. Did they know I’d survived, or was this search for mere show? Was there no escape?

“The king and queen fear she has been kidnapped…”

The world tipped in front of my eyes as fear overtook me. I clutched at the bedsheets, as if they could offer me protection, until my knuckles turned white.
Here is the part where these people give me away and hand me back to my enemies,
I thought. Who would disobey the King’s Guard?

Blinking, I realized the woman was standing beside the bed. “Get up,” she said.

I opened my mouth, gasping for air like a fish as I struggled to croak out something, anything to let the woman know I was in danger, but nothing came. Desperate, I shook my head and prayed my fear showed on my countenance.

Her eyes flared with something. Realization? Determination? I couldn’t tell.

“You are in danger from them.” It was a statement, not a question.