The King's Daughters (35 page)

He nodded. "Follow your instinct."

I rose and stared at the neatly lined pins. Taking a deep breath, I slammed the heel of my boot down on the pins over and over until each stone had been crushed into bits.

As I stepped back and contemplated the sparkling dust and broken bits of gold attachments scattered on the floor—all that remained of the pins—doubts began tormenting me. Soon, I feared for the worst.
Lord, what have I done? What if I was wrong?
I shut my eyes. Then I would have the death of those young, innocent princesses on my conscience for the rest of my days. I knew I couldn't live with such a weight on my mind. I knew it all too well.

Slowly strolling through Diego's empty rooms, I inspected each one carefully to verify that nothing had been forgotten. I was glad to see that the chore had been well done and that everything had been packed and stored away . . . well, except for the small bronze box in my hands. The one I had promised to deliver to Diego's father, the King of Pioval.

As I stared at the empty rooms one last time, a heavy feeling of loss weighed on my heart. Although several weeks had passed since Diego's death and my battle with the priestess of Samu, it still felt like yesterday to me. I kept expecting to see Diego come out of his bedroom at any moment. He had been so vibrant and exuberant when alive that it was hard to imagine him gone. Yet he was gone, gone forever.

I sighed heavily and walked to the window. I looked outside, amazed by the landscape's metamorphosis. Spring had finally arrived in Sorvinka. Green grass now replaced the snow on the ground and tender leaves dressed the previously naked trees.

My gaze fell on the three princesses, the twins Olga and Mesa and little Aurora, playing in the garden under Isabo's watchful eyes. My instinct had been right. Crushing the pins was the right thing to do. Later that day, the princesses had come running to the castle, with tales of the Baba and her walking house. Strangely enough, none of them remembered having been transformed into bears and their time spent in animal form. It was for the best, I supposed. Soon after the princesses' triumphant arrival, I rushed to the dungeon and broke the water bowl, freeing Isabo from her trance.

Poor Isabo was so weak that it took her days to regain her strength. As for the princesses, they were in perfect health—although, if you asked me, they seemed a bit . . . wild. It was as though they were now imbued with some animalistic qualities, which they previously did not possess. Then again, maybe it was just me, imagining things.

Shy knocking on the door behind me pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned and saw Khuan standing in the doorframe.

I bowed. "Emissary Khuan."

"Prince Amir," he replied, bowing too.

"So, you're leaving today, I hear."

Khuan nodded. "Yes. We have,
it seems,
worn out our welcome."

"The king didn't take your deception lightly, concerning your ability to understand Sorvinkian."

Khuan smiled. "It's understandable." His expression darkened. "What isn't understandable is Lars's official nomination as heir to the throne. It is a very questionable decision."

I agreed with him. In my opinion, this was a wrong move on the king's part. Lars had not come out of the lake incident whole. Part of his mind, I believed, had been lost in the icy water of the lake. Mind you, the boy wasn't brilliant to begin with, but he certainly wasn't a simpleton either. Now, however, there was a troubling emptiness in his eyes and a slackness in his jaw that didn't bode well for any man, let alone a future king. Furthermore, the boy was easily confused and disoriented. The words
addled mind
always came to the tip of my tongue every time I saw Lars. It wasn't all bad news though. If Lars's intellect had deteriorated, his temper, on the other hand, had greatly improved. The duke was now a polite, likable young man.

I placed a hand on Khuan's shoulders. "It's not for us to judge, my friend. The king is determined to see his dynasty remain in control of Sorvinka. And as he has officially proclaimed that he would never remarry,
ever,
that leaves only Lars as successor."

"In the condition he is in right now, he won't stay in power for long. The Molotoffs will see to that."

I shrugged. "There's nothing we can do, my friend. Sorvinka isn't our kingdom."

"True. It isn't our kingdom—yet." Khuan smiled. "Let's not linger on this subject any longer. Politics isn't what I came here to discuss with you. I came to remind you that my offer still stands; you can come with us if you want. Auguste Ramblais, the alchemist, is coming."

I smiled. "Thank you for the offer, Khuan. But as appealing as your invitation is, I must decline. My heart is here, so I'm staying."

Khuan's optimistic demeanor changed. His smiled faded and his shoulders sagged a little bit. He sighed. "You're a gifted shal-galt, Amir. It saddens me that you refuse to seek training."

"Training for what? Seeking ghosts and talking to ghouls? Those are the last things I want to do. What I want is to quiet the voices in my head and halt those horrible feelings from invading my senses. That's what I want."

"This is exactly why you should come with us. Part of a shal-galt's training is devoted to the art of shutting one's mind. There are specific techniques one can use to build mental barriers against the assaults of the spiritual world that surrounds us. Without this ability you may go mad."

His offer was tempting. Madness had been the downfall of many of my brothers. Jafer had been plagued by it. But I couldn't leave. I didn't want to.

"I can't, Khuan. The king likes and respects me now. He's indebted to me and cannot refuse me anything. He told me so himself. So when I ask him for Eva's hand in marriage, he will consent to our union." I felt my heart soaring, as it always did when I talked about marrying Eva.

With his hands joined together under his chin, Khuan bowed. "I wish you the best. However, if you ever change your mind, ride east."

On this, we bid each other farewell.

* * *

Later that day, after having spent a few more hours reminiscing about my time with Diego, I returned to my room carrying the small bronze casket with me. I was pleasantly surprised to see Eva waiting for me in my reception room. Lately, she had been so devoted to her cousin Lars that we hardly spent any time together. Although her selfless dedication toward Lars's rehabilitation was admirable and should be commended, I didn't like it. For some reason, her devotion to her cousin made me nervous and jealous . . . and also a little ashamed of myself for having those feelings, so I kept them hidden from her.

"Eva!" I said, beaming. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Me too, Amir, I'm pleased to see you," she said, rising from my couch. Although her words were joyous ones, the flat tone of her voice and the solemn look on her face indicated that she felt otherwise.

"What's troubling you, Eva?"

She came to me. I opened my arms, but she stopped a short distance from me, refusing to enter my embrace.

I felt a sudden tightness gripping my throat. "Eva?"

Her head lowered, and she began wringing her hands. "Father is calling all the noblemen to the castle for an announcement."

"Really," I said, grinning like a monkey. "Is it for our wedding?"

"Amir, please, let me finish." She paused as if to gather her courage; then raising an oddly pale face to me, she began, "I thought . . . I thought it best if I came here in person and tell you myself." She paused again. Her eyes were all misty. After swallowing hard several times, Eva continued with evident torment. "I thought it best if you knew beforehand. I didn't want you to learn it there . . . surrounded by strangers . . . and . . . and . . . "

"What is it?"

Burying her face in her hands, she breathed, "I'm marrying Lars."

I gasped. For a brief instant I couldn't breathe at all. My head was spinning. I stepped back. "You're jesting. This isn't true. Say you're jesting."

Eva shook her head.

"But . . . but, your father said—"

"I know what my father told you, Amir," she interjected. "My marrying Lars is my idea. I suggested it to Father, and together we agreed that this was best for Sorvinka. The stability of the Empire has to come first."

I stared at her, wide-eyed. Right now, I thought my heart was going to stop from all the pain. I just couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't want to believe it. "Eva, you can't. We love each other. We've lain together. You . . . you love me, you said so."

"My feelings toward you haven't changed, Amir, nor will they ever," Eva said in a quivering voice, as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Lars cannot rule. His mind isn't sharp enough. Therefore, I decided . . . that . . . that I will have to rule for him. If I don't do it, our dynasty will perish. No matter how much I love you . . . I cannot allow that to happen."

Perhaps it was the pain talking, I wasn't sure, but I found myself saying hurtful things to her. "No. That's a lie. You're just like your Aunt Livia—power hungry. You want to rule more that you want me. That's the reason behind you choice, nothing else!"

Eva raised her chin. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I always wanted to rule and now is my chance."

I felt as though a knife had plunged into my chest and was being twisted around and around. I couldn't speak. I had nothing to say anyway. I knew Eva well enough to know that when her mind was made up, nothing could be done to change it. Obviously, my love for her would not do it, no matter how strong it was.

Eva took a hesitant step toward me. The hard, determined look she had displayed moments ago was now replaced by one of deep regret and sorrow. "Please don't hate me, Amir. I never meant to hurt you. If it wasn't for this disastrous affair, I would've gladly married you. You know this . . . you know I'm not lying."

I didn't reply. I was too hurt to speak, too hurt to believe anything she was saying anymore.

Eva expelled a long, broken sigh. She bit her lower lip; then, with her brow furrowed in apprehension, she leaned forward to kiss me.

I turned my face away, so her lips met nothing but empty air. Undeterred, she moved closer, letting her tear-streaked cheek brush mine. I stepped back, jaw set, and arms tightly folded against my chest.

"You don't need to be cruel with me, Amir," she whispered. "I didn't hurt you on purpose."

I closed my eyes. "Leave."

"Amir."

"Leave I said. Go! Get out!"

"As you wish!" Her tone was bitter.

I kept my eyes shut, somehow, not seeing her made this torture a tad less painful. I listened to the diminishing sounds of her footsteps, and then I heard the door slam. Eva was gone, gone from my room and gone from my life.

I opened my eyes and wiped tears off my cheek. Eva's tears, which she had left behind when she had tried kissing me. Maybe she did love me after all. For all that was worth, it didn't make me feel any better. Actually, I felt worse, much worse. The pressure encircling my chest was such that I feared it would crush me like a nutshell.

Raising my face to the ceiling, I stared at the crude wood beams supporting the old slate roof. I felt so lost in this foreign land, in this castle. I had no purpose for being here. My purpose was gone. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn't stay here.
I must leave this cursed place at once . . . but for where?

Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I directed my attention to Diego's box still clutched in my hands. Gently, I ran my fingers on the lid.

* * *

Regardless of the cold breeze whipping my face, I felt better. My pulse—my heart—was still painfully throbbing in my throat, but my head was clear. Leaving the castle had been the right thing to do.

I brought my gray mare to a stop and waited for Milo, who was driving the first wagon of our two-vehicle caravan, to catch up with me. He was doing well, considering that the second wagon had no handler and was just attached to the first.

At this time of the year, the road crossing these vast steppes was muddy, slowing down travel. Still, I thought we were making good time.

"WHOOAH!" Milo pulled on the reins, slowing his team of sturdy Sorvinkian draw horses to a trot. I guided my mare close to the heavy wagon, so we could talk while riding.

"My lord, I'm afraid that going at this fast pace on such a broken road may have damaged many of our goods. I heard breaking sounds coming from inside the wagon." Milo poked a thumb over his shoulder.

"The time we've gained far exceeds the damage we may have suffered," I replied, eyeing the road ahead. A dark silhouette was now visible on the horizon. It was another caravan; I had no doubt of that. Smiling, I pointed to the growing shape. "See, Milo, there they are. I knew if we rode hard enough, we would catch up with them before nightfall."

A furrow of concern wrinkled Milo's forehead. "Are you sure going east is our best option?"

"Yes," I answered. For me, joining Khuan, Lilloh, and Auguste was the least painful option. I had seriously considered going west and fulfilling Diego's last wish. But too many painful memories were linked to this obligation—I wasn't ready to go there yet. It would have to wait. I knew Diego would understand. Thinking about the promises I had made to my friend brought an important detail to my mind. There was something else he had wanted me to do.

I looked at Milo. "I believe we're far enough from the castle for me to give you this."

I pulled out Diego's sword, which I had packed on my horse alongside mine, and gave it to Milo.

His eyes widened in disbelief. He gripped the sword with all the reverence due a weapon of such a magnificent quality. "That's the sword! The one I liked. My lord, I cannot take it."

"It's yours, Milo. Diego wanted you to have it."

"I'm not allowed swords."

"We're not at the castle anymore. And what use is a guard to me, if he cannot carry a sword?"

"Yes. My lord is right. Thank you, my lord." Beaming with delight, Milo fastened the sword to his belt.