Echoes of Silence (6 page)

The Prince wasn’t a god; he was no different than the merchant. I told myself these lies, trying to eradicate the fear of losing my power to the songs of his magician hunters, of helping Olive by somehow winning him over.

I felt, rather than saw, his presence at table forty-two. When I raised my eyes to his, I was wrong. He was, in every way imaginable, different. He held his shoulders with dignity; his polite smile revealed full lips, and strength and confidence radiated from him without so much as a word. He clasped his hands in front of his body, completing the stunning image of sophistication. I wondered how long he’d worked to perfect his image.

“Good evening, ladies. Thank you for joining me.” His voice oozed over the table, causing several girls to erupt into giggles. I could do nothing but stare. His hair fell in chocolate-colored waves, short yet splendid at the same time. His eyes pierced each person he looked at, telling them that he was the one in charge, that his word would decide things in the end.

He nodded from girl to girl, complimenting their hair or their dress or asking them if the meal was satisfactory.

The part of me that wanted to impress the Prince had the idea to stand. As I did, the Prince’s gaze gravitated toward me. “And how did y-you—” His eyes caught mine as he tripped over his words. The girl behind me at table forty-three gasped so loud, it sounded like a shout. The Prince blinked, which seemed to allow him the moment he needed to fold himself back into his tight box of perfection.

“What is your name?” He drew closer to me.

Though I needed to respond lest he think me slow, I simply stared as he approached. My stubborn half told my body to
sit down!
but it did not obey.

The Prince flicked his wrist toward his scribe, who immediately made a note on a scrap of parchment. Probably of my idiocy.

His Majesty stopped directly in front of me and held out his hand. I numbly put mine in his, surprised to feel the warmth in his skin thaw my vocal chords. He wore a tailored navy suit, the color almost identical to my dress. Red stripes adorned the chest, an indicator of his royal status. Gold glinted at his wrist and rimmed every button in his jacket.

“Your name?” he asked again, raising my hand to his lips. His kiss sizzled against the inside of my wrist, sending heat up to my shoulder.

“What’s yours?” I asked, the pomegranate wine swimming in my head. A moment too late, I realized my mistake. Of the hundreds of salivating girls here, only I could be so brash as to ask the Prince his name.

A hush settled over the room as if a magician had uttered a silencing poem. One, two, three heartbeats passed while everyone absorbed the weight of my question.

The Prince broke the spell with his laughter, filling the ballroom with a thunderous sound. Instead of joining him, tears pricked behind my eyes. I blinked quickly, pushing them back.

He turned to his scribe. “Oh, yes. First, please.”

I had no idea what he meant, but the black-robed man scratched another note.

“Perhaps you will tell me your name tomorrow.” The Prince released my hand and turned to table forty-three. I sat down clumsily, replaced my hands in my lap, and stared at the intimate spot where his lips had been, imagining a bruise blooming and snaking around my wrist like a bracelet.

Embarrassment kept me from participating fully with the other girls. The word
tomorrow
kept parading through my thoughts, drowning out the mindless chatter about the Prince’s good looks.

My irrationality fled, and reason settled into my mind. I couldn’t stay in this compound until tomorrow. The jittery feeling in my stomach and the weakness in my legs, however, told me I couldn’t plan and execute an escape before then. As the girls were dismissed, I vowed I would get myself out of this situation as soon as my strength returned, no matter what Olive and I could gain financially.

I flowed with the crowd as we left the ballroom, and Matu gestured for me to follow him. I stumbled after him and Castillo, all sound melting into a dull roar. Before I knew it, Castillo swung open the door leading to my suite.

“So, His Majesty is quite handsome, no?” His soothing voice chased away the disbelief of what I’d just done.

My head snapped up; feeling rushed back into my limbs and life back into my mind. Castillo held his head cocked to the side, a contemplative grin on his face.

“Are you mocking me?” I asked.

He shook his head no, but his green-brown eyes said yes. Matu stood next to him, his face devoid of all emotion.

“I heard you made quite an impression on His Majesty.” Castillo took my arm and gently guided me into my suite. “Good night, princess.”

Before I could tell him to stop calling me that, or ask him how he’d heard anything when dinner had only just ended, he retreated into the hall and closed the door behind him.

Sleep was a luxury for girls who lived in towers with their sisters, who hemmed trousers for nobles, who knew exactly what would happen when the sun rose.

I was not that girl now, so I didn’t sleep. With Helena’s replenishing, magically infused bath water, the large dinner I’d eaten, and my solitude, I had felt mostly whole again. Certainly well enough to sing a simple detection spell, as only a little magic was needed. A complicated spell-song to aid my escape, on the other hand, would require more magic than I had at the moment.

I waited until I felt certain the entire city slumbered, and then I crept into the courtyard beyond my room. Darkness blanketed everything, but I didn’t need light to sing. Above me, the wind still whistled around the rooftops. I listened to it, warring with myself about whether I should sing my magic to life or not.

Worry gnawed at my innards. I risked detection by using song-magic so near to those who could seize me, imprison me, drain me of my power.

But somewhere in the compound behind me, the Prince lived. I wanted to know where, and I wanted to know if he had personal guards I would meet the next morning. I needed to know what his true motives were, and I had to confirm that Olive had submitted my application. Perhaps the song would even rebound with a reason accompanying the vision.

A chill emanated from the stones as I drew a cleansing breath. The silence felt absolute, buried under so much darkness, but I broke it with my melody. The notes flowed seamlessly from low to high and back again. The magic left my body, swirling away into the depths of the night.

A rush of dizziness made the ground sway beneath my bare feet. I opened my eyes wider, hoping the vertigo would pass quickly. It did, but I still sank onto a wicker chair near a small table.

Minutes passed, and my skin pimpled in the cold. My impatience started to get the best of me, and I began humming the spell-song again, but quickly cut it off when the image from the location spell appeared in my mind.

The Prince’s windows faced west, and the view of the river suggested his quarters enjoyed a top-floor location. Behind my closed eyes, the vision faded, leaving me free to launch into the next song. This time I didn’t weave the Prince’s image into the song, but only the rebounded images of his living quarters. This would show me who else resided in the Prince’s suite.

The rebound came much quicker this time, probably because I’d already located the Prince. A face appeared, with a square jaw, deep-set eyes, and a shaved head. His shoulders looked like he was strong enough to pull a wagon. I recognized him as the Prince’s scribe; the crier at dinner.

His unsmiling face faded into another, this one tanned like leather and with black eyes filled with malice. The rebound brought the tang of magic with it, and because of that, I knew this man was also a magician.

The image winked away as quickly as it came. My shoulders shook with oncoming exhaustion, but I thought I had strength to sing one more spell.

This time, I wove a motivation charm into the song before sending it to the Prince. While I waited, my legs felt shaky and fire bursts popped in my peripheral vision, forming into the shapes of people. I closed my eyes to keep myself from trying to recognize them, knowing they weren’t real.

My breath left my body in a slow hiss, and I felt so, so tired. Finally, the magic I’d sung filtered back, with only a feeling, not a full-blown conversation as had happened in the past. People most often revealed their true reason for doing things to those closest to them.

But I was surprised to find the Prince didn’t have advisors who knew every detail of his life. Or even one trusted friend. He must have a true motivation for being here in Umon, for filling his compound with hundreds of girls—and I didn’t think it was to find a bride. The feeling I received from my spell-song ran deeper than that, maybe along the lines of proving himself. I also felt a strong tie to Nyth, which might indicate that his motivation was connected to his family. I knew he would feel no obligation to his people, for they feared royalty above all. Their kings had used magic against them for years, and those who stayed in Nyth were those who could not afford to leave. Or those who supported the harsh treatment of hardworking villagers.

This Prince held his motivations close, but I felt it had something to do with his father . . .

The vertigo returned in full force, and I moaned at the tightness radiating through my muscles, at the rising nausea. I would have to find out why Olive submitted my application another time.

I stumbled back to my room, those fiery shapes of people following me, and fell into bed.

#

I didn’t pry my eyes open until midmorning. Even then, I felt spent before I entered the courtyard, where I discovered I couldn’t see beyond the red-tiled roofs of the compound.

The outdoor area settled some of the disquiet raging inside me. I loved wide-open spaces and miles of greenery. The plant life in Umon differed from Iskadar, and the foliage here in the compound was different still. Leafy palms and whiskery ferns lined one wall of the courtyard. A breeze whispered down from above, and the storm from last night had blown itself out. The bleak sunshine that remained was enough to relieve some of my nerves.

I looked up from my place at the table as Helena joined me. “Echo, we need to begin preparations for your outing with His Majesty.”

“Outing?” The word caught in my throat, making it sound like, “Awwtghn?”

Helena simply dragged me inside and began ordering Greta and Lucia about what my makeup should look like, what color of silk I should wear, and how my hair should be pinned.

“Silliness, these appointments,” she breathed as she helped Greta. “As if the people here expect such formalities.” She pointed a pin at me. “He should be establishing his own protocols. I’ll have to mention it to him.”

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. Surely Helena didn’t have the status required to mention anything of consequence to the Prince.

“Lucia!” she called. “Bring the shoes.”

I breathed through the ordeal, but only because the action didn’t require specific instruction from my brain.

#

Matu and Castillo once again met me at the door to my suite. By then, some of my senses had returned, and I managed to greet them with a proper “Good morning,” before we set off down the hall. The three of us could walk shoulder-to-shoulder if we wished, but I trailed behind. Standing side-by-side felt too intimate, especially after my blunder about Castillo’s handsomeness.

This time, Castillo opened a door not far from my suite. Beyond it stretched another hallway, this one with windows installed in the ceiling. The light here fell unevenly, shifting with the clouds and wind.

Matu moved into the narrower hall first, leaving me to walk beside Castillo. All too soon, Matu turned down another passageway and said, “I’ll return to escort you to lunch, Echo. Castillo will take you the rest of the way to meet His Majesty.”

A fist of fear squeezed my stomach. “I’m to go with him alone?”

“He’s quite capable of navigating these halls on his own,” Matu said, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice. He moved away, leaving me alone with Castillo.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing down the endless passage with one arm and offering me his other.

“I don’t think the Prince is handsome,” I blurted out. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry. I tend to say too much, and never after thinking.”

I waited for Castillo’s mocking laughter, but it never came. When I dared to look at him, I found kindness in his face, the same quality I’d witnessed in the market when he said I should head home and rest.

I should have followed his silent lead. Instead, as I matched my gait to his long stride, I kept speaking. “I don’t understand what he wants with me,” I said. “I don’t know him, and I didn’t apply, and what in the world are we supposed to talk about?”

I glanced at Castillo for help, but he kept his eyes focused ahead and his mouth shut. He led me toward a magnificent staircase, one that coiled around itself like a serpent ready to strike. Instead of steps, though, the hall sloped upward in a ramp. The floor shone with white marble, and if I hadn’t been gripping Castillo’s elbow, my shoes would have slipped.

“What does he like?” I asked as we twisted toward the upper floors. “Food? Drink? Literature? Theater? Anything?”

Castillo remained silent, and for a moment, I considered demanding he tell me. But he didn’t take his orders from me, so I resolved to keep quiet until we reached our destination.

Once at the top of the spiral, and upon meeting a single door at the end of yet another hallway, Castillo slowed to a stop. “Magic, princess.”

I peered at him, but he refused to return my gaze. “He likes magic?”

Castillo bobbed his head before reaching for the door handle. “Matu will retrieve you for lunch.”

“And you?” I spoke quietly, like someone in this deserted corridor might overhear, as if we were secret lovers about to reveal details we didn’t wish others to overhear. “Where will you lunch?”

“I have other obligations.” He rapped on the door three times before pushing it open. As I made to squeeze past him, he murmured, “Beware of the Prince’s scribe, Bo,
my raven-haired princess.”