The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1) (13 page)

But these were all just legends told in the night. Same with the fire zippers… stories died out long ago.

Still
, the king thought,
they had said the same of the Terra
.

“Poor Kara,” Sabola said, breaking the silence.

Arden nodded and sat in a chair across from his wife. He felt terrible about handing his daughter off to some slop for a political alliance. “He looks like a dunce. He hardly said a word the entire feast. I actually had the thought that Kara would make a better prince and Sesto a better princess. He hardly said a word, and she looked absolutely miserable keeping quiet all night.”

Sabola smiled warmly. “I told her to make it a game.”

One that ultimately didn’t work
, Arden thought. “Well, it says a great deal about King Darr that he would give Kara his sixth son and not his second or third, who still remain unmarried.”

“He has many sons.”

“Nine. He spent a great deal talking about them tonight. Even though he knows how it wounds me.”

“He’s a weasel of a man,” Sabola said, standing and going to the window.

“Who has conquered most of the coastline and has the strongest army second to ours. I thought it was because he was a brilliant warlord, but I see the reason now. He conscripts any male who can port.”

“We might have to do that soon,” his wife said sadly, looking out the window into the thick fog gathered around the citadel. Light from the village below flickered through, like fireflies dancing in the mists.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Sabola nodded, closing the curtains and checking the doors. She sat beside the king and came very close to his ear.

“It’s a boy, Arden.”

The king stood up, looking at her. “You want it to be.”

“No, it is. And this means many things for us. When the child is born, I don’t think it should be a secret. You will have an heir.”

“But King Darr and the other royalty…”

“They know this was always a possibility, just as it was likely that Kara would have a child before you died.”

“If it is a boy, this means we won’t have to marry her to that dolt.”

“Yes. But they should stay engaged.”

“Of course.” For a moment, the king allowed himself to hope his child would be a boy. The queen had never been wrong in this thing. She had lost three children after Kara, however. Some in the womb and some after birth. There was a chance she might lose this one as well. “Is it true, Sabola?”

Sabola nodded. “And I know you don’t believe me, but Hakon lives, Arden…” she started, but the king held up his hand.

“Please don’t speak his name.”

“He’s alive. And you need to at least think about the possibility of what may occur if he returns,” his wife said, her eyes fierce. She was a masterful queen. If only histories were written of women. He was sure that she would outshine any female ruler that their histories had sung of. How much he wanted to believe her.

“I think you are acting and thinking as a grieved mother, not as a rational human being.”

“No, you are made irrational by grief. I have been watching and waiting and believing, while you have been too blinded by your own loss and the potential loss of your kingdom. You must see how things are.”

“Says the dreamer!” the king said. “You cannot say this to me when it is you who idly dream of things that are not and cannot be.”

“What will you do if your own son leads a Terra army against you? Will you kill your own son?”

The king looked at her in wonder. He wanted to rage, but the sting of her words hurt too close.

She continued, “If he lives. If. He will be one of them. One of our enemy…”

The king nodded. He didn’t want her flustered, especially while she was with child. He spoke to appease her. “If he lives, he will be welcomed home, and it won’t be long before he sees the hypocrisy of those that raised him. If he is our son, he will see that.”

The queen watched him. “You still don’t believe me, but promise me you will hold true to that.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him close. “Promise you will receive him, forgive him, and teach him.”

Didn’t she see that her delusions only drove him deeper into grief? How could he promise to receive the dead? Nevertheless, he said, “I promise.”

His queen finally sat, satisfied.

King Arden sighed. “And now I must deal with our daughter.”

The queen looked up at him, questioning. What beautiful regality her jaw line had.

“She directly disobeyed my orders and zipped conspicuously across the citadel. I’m just grateful no one but servants saw her.”

Sabola frowned. “That girl needs to learn quickly what is appropriate and what is not.”

King Arden took off his sword, resting it against the chair. “It’s partly our fault, but I do not regret teaching her to fight. I’m thinking of punishing her guard—the one she likes.”

“Surely you’ll punish her.”

Arden shook his head. “No, I can’t run the risk of embarrassing her before King Darr or Prince Sesto. Besides, she must learn that her uncontrolled actions affect others.”

The queen nodded. She recognized it must be done. King Arden picked up his sword and kissed his wife on the forehead. “Sleep well, Sabola. May the Master free you from dreams tonight.”

“And may the Master grant you any at all!”

The king laughed and left his wife, assured of her safety. He still had much to do before the night was over.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Whip him with six good thrashes; then tie him up in the dungeon,” King Arden said.

Kara couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. Azure had been right. Up until now, her father had always seen it fit to punish her himself. She had many a bruise on her own arms from his discipline. Kara wasn’t bitter about it. She had always deserved it, just as she deserved to be the one punished now.

“It’s my fault, Father! Azure was the one who brought me back!” she pleaded again. She was wearing only her nightgown. Her father had torn her out of bed at daybreak. How was this supposed to be a lesson? It only reconfirmed her distaste for that other side of her father—the tyrant king.

That king looked at her now with a slight frown on his face. He had no pity. He turned to Azure. “I hope you understand, Azure, that I appreciate what you have done for my daughter, but she must learn her lesson.”

Azure nodded, not looking at Kara or King Arden. Two other guards held him, and a third pulled out a thick whip with knots. “Take off his shirt—I don’t want to ruin his uniform,” her father said. Kara turned to him, again pleading.

“I don’t understand why you don’t whip me and confine me to my room. This is cruel, and I don’t understand why this is a custom!” Kara said.

“You will be quiet. I want you to know that your actions as a princess of Atmen, and royalty of the most high Air Kingdom,
affect other people
.” The king turned to her as Azure obediently took off his shirt, showing the tan skin rippled with small, pale streaks—another indication of a water person. Kara also saw, for the first time, at the base of his neck, a white and blue tattoo that looked like interweaving waves.
So the Su do wear tattoos
, she thought. She wished she hadn’t discovered Azure’s secret in this way. His webbed hands trembled, despite the courage he showed in his face. Other than his tattoo, he had no scars on his perfect skin.

Her father continued, “You are no longer a free girl, roaming about like a wild child. You are betrothed! You might be a queen one day, Kara. And you will learn to obey.”

Kara nodded, tears welling up on her face. They pulled back the whip, and she averted her eyes. The king grabbed her face. “No, you will watch.” He held her chin as she watched Azure take the first blow. A sob wretched from her throat—this was awful. Awful. “Still your emotions, Kara. Each cry and he will get another blow.”

The rage that welled up in Kara’s heart burned her tears. She wanted to rip the whip away and swing it at the king. She soothed her shame with the boiling hot anger inside of her. Azure didn’t make a sound as they finished the six whips. Small pools of blood were dripping off his torn flesh.

“Now send him to the dungeon. Wait until nightfall, and then send the surgeon to heal the wounds. First let the wounds fester,” King Arden said. Azure didn’t look at Kara as they dragged him out. She watched, as instructed, to see his back—deep welts spread across his smooth skin. She gave a cold hard stare at her father, who stood, a sad expression on his face. He looked at Kara. “I hope you understand,” he said.

“What should I do today, Your Majesty?” Kara asked, not hiding the bitterness in her voice.

“You will resume your studies, entertain the prince at lunch, and tend to your mother,” the king said, adding, “You will be where you ought to be and no where else.”

He left, flapping the curtains behind him. Kara sighed and let herself cry. Sarita was gathering some rags to clean up the small drops of blood that had fallen to the floor.

“They were gentle on him,” she said, calmly mopping up the blood.

“Gentle!” Kara said, letting her rage unleash at Sarita.

“That’s the risk we water–eyed take in serving your kind.”

That humbled Kara. “Does it bother you?” she asked.

“Of course it bothers me,” Sarita responded, “but what can I do about it, Princess? It’s the way things are.”

“I think it’s awful. I should have been whipped instead. Or at least sent to the dungeon.”

Sarita nodded. “Wouldn’t have been as powerful a lesson though, would it?” she said. She picked up the towels and started to carry them out the room.

“Sarita…” Kara hesitated. “Can you tell me a story?”

Sarita looked fondly on Kara, smiling sadly. “Return to your room while I clean this up. I’ll be there in a moment.”

It wasn’t long after Kara was settled into her bed that Sarita returned. The Su handmaid moved to the window, letting it open a bit to allow fresh air inside. Kara curled up inside the covers while Sarita lit a fire. Once the room was refreshed and the fire blazing, Sarita closed the window again but kept the curtains open.

“Long ago,” she started, “there was a newt that sat underneath a waterfall. She had lived there her entire life, and she often wondered what was outside the waterfall, what was beyond the rock? So one day, she built up the courage to let go. And she was swept away.”

“That’s a sad story,” Kara said, disappointed.

“It isn’t over,” Sarita said. “She was swept away to a far away place. She found herself in the company of a strange people, but she got along well enough. She learned their ways, their language, and what they believed. They let her stay, thinking her strange but harmless.

“Then, one day, a strong gust of wind picked up the little newt and blew her upward. She found herself being carried high, like she had when she was swept away in the current. She landed amidst a strange land and a strange people. They were suspicious of her, but she learned their ways, their language, and what they believed. They let her stay, thinking her strange but harmless. Until…”

Kara laughed. “Let me guess. Something picked her up and took her somewhere else.”

“Yes.” Sarita smiled. “So the newt saw the entire world, adapting to each new strange place and people. She often missed her waterfall, but she saw and understood more than any of the people she had left behind, for she had allowed herself to adapt to strange places.”

Kara sat up. “Did she ever come home?”

“No,” Sarita said. “She never did.”

Kara sat back, sighing. “Can you tell another?”

Sarita smiled. “How many stories have I told you over the years, Kara?”

Kara thought for a moment. “Probably hundreds and hundreds. You have so many stories.”

“The Su have keepers of their own, you know. Well, we call them something else. But we collect stories,” Sarita said. She sat on the edge of the bed. “I will tell you something, Princess Kara. I have given you a great gift in all these stories.”

“Yes,” Kara agreed, wondering at Sarita’s odd tone.

“Just as the Alem and the Terra believe in the code, the Su have a code as well. The Terra believe for everything that is taken, something must be given.”

“A life for a life.”

“Or a bit of earth for the power to zip or vanish.”

“The balance.”

Sarita nodded. “The Su believe in the same but differently. While the Alem and the Terra see it quite literally—a life for a life or air in order to fly across space—we see it symbolically.”

“What do you mean?”

“We value our words. We give words when we take something else.”

Kara pondered that revelation for a moment. As much as she enjoyed Sarita’s stories, she did not think that words carried the same value as say, a life. Still, she was grateful for some insight into the Su and their strange customs. “Do you believe in the Master, Sarita?”

“I believe I have a master,” Sarita said, bringing out Kara’s clothes for the day. “Now get dressed.”

Did Sarita mean how King Arden was her master, or did she believe in the Master? Kara decided not to press it. The incredible shame and sadness had come back when Sarita had stopped talking. She dressed quietly.

“I’ve a few errands to run today, Princess. You will be all right?”

Kara nodded, grateful that Sarita had asked at all. Sarita often did this as Kara got older. She would tend to the kitchens and run errands into the villages or the Su towns in the north. Kara didn’t need a nursemaid, especially not now that there was someone to watch her everywhere she went anyhow. Sarita had many responsibilities in the citadel besides Kara’s well being. The two of them had also created a rhythm of independence because of her upbringing.

Once Kara was dressed, she dismissed Sarita, who exited through the curtain that led to the servants’ corridor. Kara gathered her things for lessons. She was to learn about King Darr’s kingdom today. She was actually looking forward to it. Anything to distract her from the image of Azure in the dungeons.

***

After her lessons, Kara wandered away from the keepers’ temple and the schoolrooms for the royalty, toward the deeper recesses of the citadel. She had a bit of time before her scheduled lunch with Prince Sesto. She had asked to be let out of lessons just a little early. “To look at the paintings,” she’d said. Since she was no longer a secret, she enjoyed staring at the many portraits and tapestries that hung on the walls when the rest of the court was occupied. If she weren’t a patron of the arts, she would have much preferred to be an artist herself. The keepers had let her go without suspicion.