The King's Daughters Page 2

  Loud shouts coming from the back of the caravan made me turn. To my utter consternation, I saw that the king's soldiers had invaded the last carriage where our three wounded eunuch guards were housed. When the soldiers began pulling the wounded guards out, I knew that if I didn't intervene they would be killed. As I attempted to help them, Lars drove his warhorse in front of my mare, blocking my path.

  "Stay put, young prince," warned the king.

  Feeling powerless and outraged, I could only watch as two of our guards perished at the hands of the soldiers. But when I saw Ely being thrown to the ground, I couldn't stay quiet anymore. "Your Majesty," I pleaded, "he's Eva's most loyal guard. He served her well. Please, Your Majesty, this man poses no threat to you."

  Unmoved by my plea, the king nodded to the soldiers surrounding Ely, and, at once, they pierced the wounded guard's body with their lances. When it was all over, and Ely had expelled his last breath, the king turned toward me and said, "Now this man truly poses no threat to me."

  Biting my tongue, I squeezed my eyes shut. Poor Ely, he didn't deserve this fate. At that instant, my thoughts turned to Milo, who was still inside the carriage with Eva. He too was doomed . . . then again, maybe not. I turned to the king. "Will you permit me to fetch your daughter?"

  The king nodded.

  Within moments, I was off my horse and entering the carriage. I was met by Milo's blade and nearly got my throat slit. "Careful!" I said.

  "Oh, my prince, you are safe," he breathed in relief, lowering his blade from my neck.

  "Sheathe your sword, Milo." I ordered.

  "What?" Milo looked at me as if he thought I had lost my mind.

  "Amir, explain yourself," Eva said. "Tell me what's happening."

  "There is no time." Then turning to Milo, I blurted, "If you want to live, you will do everything I say, starting by sheathing that blade and unloading my luggage. As for you, Eva, your father awaits you outside."

  For a woman encumbered by three layers of petticoats, Eva dashed outside with amazing speed. Milo shot me a sideways look. Right then I knew he wouldn't obey my orders. As a eunuch guard, Milo's loyalty was to Eva, not to me, and it would remain so until he saw her safely under the king's protection. Before I could stop him he was out behind her.

  "Oh lord!" I said, and followed in their steps. Sure enough, once outside I found Milo with his back against the carriage and three lance tips pointed to his neck.

  "Father!" Eva exclaimed. "What are these manners?"

  "Eva, go inside," the king said.

  "No! Not until I know what is happening here."

  The captain of the soldiers approached Eva and whispered something in her ear. Her face turned as pale as snow, and if not for the firm grip the captain had on her waist, I believe she would have collapsed on the ground.

  "Bring her inside, quickly," ordered the king.

  Suddenly docile, Eva let herself be carried away without protest.

  Having lost my only ally, I turned to the king. "Majesty, that one is my valet. Please, tell your men to lower their lances. He's harmless. Look at him, he's not Farrellian."

  Lars dismounted from his horse, marched straight to Milo, and inspected him from head to toe. "I don't know. He looks half-Farrellian to me. That's enough to merit death."

  With a hand on the grip of my sword, I stepped forth.

  Milo swiftly raised his hand to stop me; his eyes I noted were filled by a mixture of fear and determination. "No, my lord, do not risk yourself for me," he said in his light airy voice.

  Upon hearing Milo's voice, Lars's head tilted, his eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a feral smile. And without further notice, he leaned forth and abruptly plunged his hand into Milo's crotch. "Aagh!" Lars exclaimed, leaping back in disgust. "I knew it! This one's a gelding. How revolting!"

  I looked at the king. His face displayed no emotion, yet I thought I saw a hint of disapproval in his eyes. "I thought eunuchs were only used for guarding the harem, and to serve women," the king said.

  "No," I immediately rectified. "White eunuchs serve the Sultan . . . and princes as . . . as personal valets. None are better."

  "And what tasks are these personal valets supposed to perform."

  "Hmm . . . hmm. They attend to one's grooming needs, baths, daily washing. They help one dress."

  Lars let out a loud cackling laugh, while the other men present were more discreet and just chuckled behind their hands.

  The king however remained dead serious. After a brief glance at Milo, he turned his attention to me. "Prince Amir, in Sorvinka, men dress themselves. But as you seem incapable of accomplishing this task by yourself, I will permit you to keep your servant. Because you are a guest in my castle, I am obliged to respect your customs, no matter how strange they may appear to us."

  "Your Majesty is too kind," I said, bowing quickly to hide the redness of my cheeks.

  "Don't thank me yet, I'm not done. One thing must be clear, Prince Amir. Maybe in Telfar a prince can have his servants fight his battles for him, but in Sorvinka servants aren't allowed to carry swords. And as long as you are a guest in my castle, you will live by my rules. Here you'll have to fend for yourself, young prince."

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  With obvious pleasure, Lars swiftly disarmed Milo. Then he slammed the sword on his armored knee several times, in an attempt to break it, I presumed. His efforts were useless—the sword was made of Telfarian steel, hence of too good a quality to be broken this way. Frustrated by his failure to destroy Milo's weapon, Lars shoved the sword into the hands of the nearest soldier.

  The king shook his head, then turned his horse around and rode toward the castle. Once he reached the gate, he pivoted in his saddle and shouted, "Oh yes, I forgot. Welcome to Sorvinka, Prince Amir."

  I looked at Milo, who was rubbing the sore spots on his neck where the lance tips had dug into his flesh. I looked at the corpses surrounding the caravan, then finally at the stern, hostile face of the king. In my opinion, this was the coldest welcome I had ever received in all my life.

  Chapter Two

  The castle was a black stone monstrosity—quite frankly I'd seen prison towers that were more inviting. As if this ominous sight wasn't unnerving enough, I had just learned that my friend, Ambassador Molsky, was on a diplomatic mission in another country.

  Wonderful! I sighed. Not only did I expect to see him, I thought I would be under his guidance once I arrived. Besides the language, I knew very little about the Sorvinkians' ways. Maybe I should have spent less time refining my accent and more time studying their customs. Well, it was too late now.

  With Milo glued to my side like a thistle, I crossed the castle's courtyard. I was shocked by the quantity of soldiers posted there. They all looked alert and on edge, as if fearing a sudden attack. I discovered the same nervous atmosphere inside the castle. Here too, there were guards posted everywhere. These men, however, looked exhausted; the redness of their eyes and constant yawning clearly indicated that they had not slept in a while.

  "My lord," Milo whispered in my ear, "something is amiss here. Perhaps entering this castle was a mistake. The reception they gave us was certainly most unpleasant and—"

  "Hush," I said, and turned my attention to the guard guiding us, a tall, pock-faced youth with sleepy eyes. "The king mentioned a conflict between Sorvinka and the land of Farrell."

  "For sure, we're at war with those dogs."

  "I noticed that the garrison in the courtyard seemed ready for action. Is the Farrellian army marching on this castle?"

  The guard spat on the ground. "Those cowards! They don't have the guts to fight men. Those lowly bastards can only kidnap little girls."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by that."

  "You don't know! The king's youngest daughter, Princess Aurora. The sweetest little thing. She was kidnapped three nights ago. Our poor king is beside himself." Lowering his voice, the guard added, "Word is, Farrellians did it."

 
"Really? There are no other suspects besides the Farrellians?" Blaming the enemy of the kingdom seemed a tad too convenient to me.

  "Well . . . " said the guard as he readjusted the helm on his head—dented on the right side it kept slipping to the left—"a lot of stories are going around. Some say it's the old gods' wrath, their revenge against our king for banning their worship and destroying their temples. Others think that brigands did it. No good scum—the lot of them."

  I couldn't agree more, with that part anyway, and nodded vehemently. Sorvinka was certainly not short of brigands, I could attest to that. However, kidnapping a princess, that was too bold a move, even for the worst of them. "What is your opinion on the matter? Who do you think is guilty of this crime?"

  The young guard's eyes widened. He was stunned that a prince would ask him his opinion, and just as I had expected he quickly expressed it. "Well, no ransom has been asked yet. Brigands love gold; they would've demanded a ransom. As for the gods, old or new, they're usually content to ignore us. So, I say it's these dogs of Farrellians. Oh, yes! It's them, I'm sure." The guard spat on the ground again. "They're a vile bunch. Can't trust Farrellians, they're all cowards without honor." On this the guard turned left and entered a long, dark corridor.

  Curious to see how Milo was taking all those insults, I glanced at him. Besides the paleness of his face, he appeared in perfect control of himself. Good boy, I thought, and followed behind the guard.

  I was a bit concerned when the guard stopped in front of a black oak door with its big wrought-iron hinges.

  "And this?"

  "Your rooms, Your Highness," the guard replied, opening the door.

  "Ah," I said. I had secretly hoped that this long corridor, with its barren stone walls and smoky torches, was just some alley leading to the castle, not a part of the castle itself. Apparently, this castle was as ugly and as austere inside as it was outside. Surely my rooms would be better, I thought, stepping in. Of course, I was wrong again. A cave with furniture was my first impression of my receiving room, gray stone and cobwebs everywhere, wall to wall, and floor to ceiling. Only the stained-glass window added some well-needed color to this depressing grayness. The room was dreadful, yet I was careful not to show my disappointment in front of the guard—one had to be courteous when abroad.

  While Milo and our guide brought my trunks inside my rooms, I approached the window to admire its craftsmanship. Without a doubt, this was the work of a master; the rose design circling its frame like a vine was flawless. I touched the frosted glass at the center of the window and sighed. It wasn't frosted glass; it was just . . . well, frost.

  "Lovely," I whispered sarcastically. "It's almost as cold inside this room as it is outside." I shook my head. I wasn't really surprised by this, though. I had begun shivering moments ago. Hugging myself for warmth, I stared at the sparkling white snow outside. I felt confused and lost. This castle was nothing like the magnificent palace Eva had described to me, nor was Sorvinka the genteel fairytale kingdom of her accounts. To me, this land was hard and cruel, and this castle was even worse: it was dingy, cold, and oh so ugly. Had Eva misled me on purpose?

  Troubled by these thoughts, I traced the rose design of the window with a finger while attempting to reassure myself. Not everything here was bad or ugly. Maybe it was just me, seeing only the dark side of things; it certainly wouldn't be the first time. I gazed at the frozen landscape outside the window. Could I learn to love this land and its people, I wondered, and would these people ever love me in return? The king's severe face formed in my mind—it seemed doubtful. Unable to find any satisfying answers to these questions, I rested my forehead on the icy glass, feeling depressed.

  "My lord."

  "Yes, Milo."

  "The guard has departed and all your things are here. If my lord wishes, after I've made fires in the fireplaces, I could begin unpacking."

  I shrugged. "Sure."

  "My lord, I . . . I . . . "

  The strangled tone of Milo's voice made me turn.

  Bearing a look of extreme gratitude and devotion, Milo kneeled in front of me and bowed to the ground. "Thank you, my lord, for saving my life. My lord took a great risk on my behalf. My lord will not regret it."

  I didn't reply—truth was, I already regretted my action, and for several reasons. First, saving Milo had disgraced me in the eyes of the king. Second, I didn't know how I could redeem myself. I had no idea how to do that, none at all. Lastly, I didn't care for servants, personal or any other kind, and I didn't trust them either. So being stuck with one really displeased me. I threw a resentful glance at the still prostrated Milo. "Rise," I said.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord, before I begin unpacking?"

  I scratched my head, then my beard. I felt dirty; actually, filthy was more accurate. "Yes. Can you find where the baths are located in this castle? I would like to wash all this dust and sweat off me."

  Happy to be of service, Milo swiftly ran out of the room. Sometime later, he returned carrying two buckets of water. "My lord, I have unsettling news. This castle doesn't have baths."

  I gaped in disbelief. "You're jesting!"

  Milo shook his head. "There are no indoor fountains either." He raised the buckets. "These come from an outside well. It was frozen. I had to throw stones in it to break the ice and get to the water."

  I stared at the blocks of ice floating atop the water and winced. "Barbaric. Simply barbaric," I said with a sneer. "I suppose we'll have to make due with these appalling conditions."

  "I'm afraid so, my lord."

  Raising my gaze to Milo, a dark spot on his face caught my attention. I frowned and pointed at the red welt above his left eye. "What's that on your face?"

  Milo covered the welt with his hand in a hurry. "Oh this, nothing. I made a wrong turn that's all."

  "Someone hit you?"

  "No! I fell. My lord shouldn't worry himself with such minute things. I'm clumsy."

  That was a lie. Milo wasn't clumsy. Like all well-trained swordsmen, he was agile and light on his feet.

  "Fine!" I declared. "I won't question you further on the subject. But from now on, you will not wander in this castle alone. If you're to act as my valet, I will need you to tend to my affairs. So be careful. This place is dangerous. You're useless to me if you're wounded."

  "Yes, my lord." Although Milo had kept his voice as neutral as possible, I couldn't help noticing the slight smile curling the corners of his lips. "I will heat some water so my lord can wash."

  * * *

  Once I had washed and changed into clean clothes, I inspected myself in the long mirror Milo had set up for me. Although I wasn't fond of the soft gold tunic and pantaloon I wore, I judged that with my emerald kaftan and its matching turban it was suitable for this afternoon. The ensemble's overall look was rich yet not ostentatiously so, in my opinion.

  Satisfied by my choice of garment, I affixed my rapier—the narrow-bladed dueling sword I favored—to my belt. Now that I was dressed, I decided to check on the many gifts I had brought for the royal family, as they were to be presented to them this evening. Needless to say, I wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible. Most of all, I desperately wanted to see Eva before the evening.

  "Maybe my lord should wait for a guard to lead us there . . . later tonight, perhaps?" Milo suggested.

  "No, Eva needs my support now."

  A worried expression formed on Milo's face. "Poor Princess Eva. She must be devastated by her sister's kidnapping."

  "Come, Milo. Let's go find her. She can use our comfort."

  We left my rooms and walked in the direction of the big entrance we had passed earlier today. Once there, I saw that it was a crossroad that went in four different directions. I looked at each of the corridors and chose the broadest. After two bends, we found ourselves outside in the courtyard and had to turn around and return to the entrance. This time I chose the narrowest corridor.

  Wrong road again, I thought upon exi
ting the corridor. I examined the empty square space we were in. Actually, it wasn't totally empty, a circular stone construction stood in its center.

  Milo rushed to its edge. "It's an indoor well, my lord." He ran a hand over the well's stone rim and added, "There's a faint carving of a sea monster on it."

  I shrugged. "Is there water in it?"

  Milo bent over the well. "It's dry, my lord. There's hardly a puddle at the bottom."

  Of course, the opposite would have been far too practical. Nothing in this castle seemed to be working properly, if it even existed at all. Everything looked old and rundown to me. My room was a particularly good example of this.

  While inspecting the rest of the area, I noted an upward staircase on my left. I doubted this was the way to the throne room; it looked more like the base of one of the castle's towers to me. I approached the steps to take a peek up the stairs.

  Upon setting foot on the first step, I froze in place as a wave of tingling coursed through my entire body. I shuddered and backed away. This was a too familiar sensation, one that conjured bad memories. I had felt a similar tingling before . . . back in Telfar . . . when my brothers were still alive. It was remnants of a spell. It was sorcery. It was magic.

  I approached the steps again and reached out to touch the invisible veil of energy lingering in the air. My fingertips made contact with it and began tingling. Then all of a sudden the tingling ceased and the veil vanished. I found the sudden disappearance of the veil just as alarming as its presence had been. Now I had the feeling that something dreadful had happened here . . . something foul, something evil. I could swear to it.

  "What is it, my lord?" Milo asked.