The Sand Prince (42 page)

"What do you mean? Different how?"

"Different as in with your hair like that I can see your face." She put her finger to his lips before he could start in. "I like your face. If May was here she would say something about how everyone looks better with their hair out of their eyes."

"I think I am learning how to see things here."

"What do you mean? Can't you see normally? Do eyes work differently back... where you are from? Wait... I know this... Eriis!" she finished triumphantly.

"Eriis, that’s right. Very good. No, when I first got here there was so much to see I didn't know what to look at. I'd have to stop and look at every tree, all the rocks, I didn't know what was important." He looked her in the eye, and she realized how infrequently he’d done that. "I think I’m learning."

She smiled and looked away, not wanting to draw attention to his gaze and embarrass him. "I think you mean background and foreground. Like in a painting."

"I know what paintings are. It’s from art, isn't it?" he asked.

"I take it you don't have artists?" she replied.

"Oh, we do, but making a design or a mark on something isn't considered very special. Our artists are more... performance? They create an emotion, or an experience. I'm not sure I'm explaining it. We have excellent and brilliant artists. They create themselves for us at Court."

She laughed. "At Court? What are you, a Prince?"

"Yes."

It was almost a full minute before she could manage a reply. "A Prince. You're a Prince? Prince Moth?"

He laughed, but there seemed to be no humor behind it. "No, not Prince Moth."

"So Moth isn't your real name."

"It's my name while I am here." He paused. "Lelet, please don't be impressed. I am not gifted. Even if I had properly manifested, I have almost no abilities—no more than a child. My being a prince doesn't mean anything. It's like being a building's best windowsill."

Lelet had known men who liked to feel sorry for themselves and she guessed 'can't do magic' wasn't much different from 'can't ride a horse', or 'can't throw a ball.' Men hated the
can't
part. Demons couldn't be all that different—particularly this one. She took his hand and laced his fingers between her own. He looked down at their joined hands and back up at her curiously.

"Well it means a great deal to me. I’ve never met a prince before, much less been kidnapped by one! When this is over, you will be positively immortalized when I tell the story. My friends will froth at the mouth and die from jealousy." She figured this was the right thing to say, and he was at least that much like other men, because he draped his arm around her waist. "If you're a prince you must have a great Lady waiting for you back home."

He dropped his arm. "I... ah... well...."

"Are you married?"

"No! No. No. Definitely no. No."

"Hmm, whoever she is she must be a peach.
Definitely
no. So tell me about her. She's beautiful of course." He didn't answer. "She's probably tall." Lelet bore a grudge against tall women, having conveniently forgotten his repeatedly describing his people as small. "We've established that she's a bitch, your Madam Definitely No, so I'll venture that she's insanely good in bed."

"Lelet!"

"I'm right, obviously. What is it like, between your people?" She thought of what he'd told her—flame and flight. "I'll bet there's fire involved. Do you literally set each other on fire? And you can put your arm back, I'm not going to tear it off."

"Well, it’s funny you should say that. About arms." He paused and she wondered if he was about to do that ‘can’t get the words out’ thing. His arm remained at his side.

Lelet, idiot, do not tease this one.
She was afraid she’d ruined it, but to her relief he continued. "If we are going to have this conversation, you should know that my people aren't as sensitive as human persons. Hot and cold, for instance. That doesn't bother us. Pain. Pleasure. We don't really differentiate between the two. It feels—I am told it feels almost the same. And we heal extremely quickly. So our joinings tend to be... aggressive. Extremely. So, yes, there is literal fire."

"You hurt each other," she said. She wondered what he meant by, "
I am told."

"Sometimes quite a lot. Although it’s not supposed to feel like pain." He was quiet for a moment. "I told you I'm different... I don't have the same kind of abilities as the rest of my people. I just can't do it."

Lelet considered this.
He can't do it? Why would he tell me that? That's horrible!

Finally she couldn't stand it and had to ask. "Are you telling me you can't do the joining part?"

"No," he looked surprised. "No, I didn't mean that at all. I mean if I am hurt, I feel it. Pain feels like pain to me—although not as much as it would to one of you. And it takes me longer to mend. No one else is like me, as far as I know."

"Oh! Well." She felt quite relieved to hear it. And that explained the 'I am told.' "You feel pain. You probably don't inflict as much either." He shrugged uncomfortably. "You can't do all that magical stuff. Moth, I have news for you." He looked down at her serious face.

"Moth, you're a human."

His laugh was strained. "No. Ha. No. My mother would have. No. That's funny though. Human. Hilari—Ow!"

She had pinched the tender skin on the inside of his elbow.

"Human."

He pulled the offending hand away and held it up as she laughed. He pulled her close and looked into her pale eyes. She stopped laughing and waited to see what he would do.

Why does he look so sad?
He held quite still, he was waiting for her. She wound her arms around his neck and her mouth found his. For a long moment, he held perfectly still, not breathing, just waiting. She could feel the heat slowly rise as he relaxed into her arms. His lips were as soft as she’d hoped, he felt like silk and fire. She wanted more of him, and pushed his stolen shirt off his shoulders.

She knew he was tall and now she could see he was lean and beautifully formed. But she looked again and gasped.

"Oh, Moth."

"What? Oh, those are just rings. I know your people don’t ornament themselves-"

"No! No. Oh, your skin." His body was a patchwork of pale scars and silvery lines, stark against his golden skin. He looked like a badly mended porcelain cup. She was sure she could see the faint outline of a hand in the middle of his chest. It had been a fine boned, delicate hand.

"Moth, who did this to you?"

He thought for a moment, gave up and said, "Everyone."

She gently traced a finger along a scar which snaked across his collarbone. He shivered.

Why
, she wondered,
do I want to care for him? Why do I want him at all? Is it only because he is beautiful and sad?
He looked at her again with such longing and such despair, and she wondered
What does he think is going to happen
? Just ask quickly she answered her own question.
He is waiting for this to feel like pain. 'I am told', he said. He doesn't know any other way.

"I will
never
hurt you," she told him.

"Yes," he replied, "I think you will. I think before this is over, we both will."

There was only one response to that, and because she knew the moons would fall into the sea before he did it himself, she unlaced her dress and shrugged out of it. He reached for her and that was answer enough for both of them.

She buried her hands in his silky hair and kissed him fiercely. He held her like he was afraid she would fly away. She felt, as much as heard, his groan as she reached up and twisted the gold ring that pierced his nipple, figuring correctly that that was what it was there for. And there was the familiar rush of heat rising from him, surrounding her. In his soft hair, she caught the faint, sweet aroma of wood smoke. She could feel him, too, hard against her stomach, and slid herself along up against his warm, flawed skin. She could feel the golden rings against her own body. They were cool but he was so warm... and then he wasn't. He pushed her away.

"Lelet, move." She felt the sudden sting of angry tears. "Do as I say, move away from me right now." He actually shoved her back onto the seat. She scrambled to retrieve her dress as he practically leapt over her to get out of the cart and create more distance between them.

Her face burned with humiliation and she was about to tell him she had only kissed him because she felt sorry for him, when she realized they were being watched by two men. One had a club. The other held a dented sword.

––––––––

E
riis

20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar

100 years later, Mistran calendar

Before the High Seat

"You cannot say your behavior was acceptable. You cannot say you performed your duties with honor and dignity." Yuenne had made more or less the same speech in front the High Seat every day for the three weeks since his disastrous party. And for three weeks, Hellne had sat on the Seat and smiled politely and thanked him for his advice. She examined the cuff of her gown until he was done.

"Your comments are always welcome at Court, Counselor. I will consider them."

He allowed the tiniest sneer. "You should have considered them while you were entertaining the enemy. It is not as if you weren't warned. I myself—"

"Again, we welcome everyone to speak freely at this Court. As long as they do not overstep." She had no intention of admitting to any impropriety, despite the truth of the accusations. Her original intent had been to simply wait and let the exciting story of the prince's parentage burn itself out. But that looked less likely to happen, as Yuenne continued his attack. It was a bit of a relief to have his enmity out in the open, not whispered behind a hand. No, she had to do something and soon, because every day, more friendly eyes turned away, and more friends failed to appear to show her support. Even now, she felt the disapproval in the room falling on her skin like dust at dawn.

"Do you intend that as a threat?" Yuenne asked.

"Just an observation. Are there any other matters to address this afternoon?" Yuenne, dismissed, stepped back, and no one else stepped forward to face the Seat. "If that is all, let us thank Light and Wind for the gift of this day." She rose and nodded to Diia, who gathered her silver cup and papers and followed her out. The courtiers followed the Queen and Yuenne followed behind them. He caught up to her in the Great Hall.

"Hellne," he said, "be reasonable. I'm not doing this to harm or insult you." At her laugh, he said, "Truly, I am not. But Eriis needs stability and reassurance that their leaders are united. I think... and please forgive my bluntness, but I think the people no longer have faith in their Queen."

She stopped and turned to face him. "It was my hope that this ridiculous uproar would blow over when the next scandal came along, but you have made that impossible."

"Ridiculous? You would have put a human's son on the High Seat. That's not ridiculous. It's treasonous."

He has been waiting to say that to me,
thought Hellne.
He has been practicing in the mirror. At least he spoke in private.
"He is my son, raised here, by me. And I strongly advise you to consider your words."

"You don't know what harm you've caused by sending him away." Yuenne leaned closer to her ear. "We will have him back, the Mages and I. What can you do against us? You and your friends from the hills."

She smiled calmly. "I am still the Queen."

He smiled back. "The day is not over." He gave a polite bow and left them.

Once safely inside her own chambers Hellne dropped her smile and sat heavily on a carved wooden bench. She held her arms out as Diia took off the heavy robe of office and hung it neatly away. She handed Hellne a lightweight black silk tunic trimmed in cream. The cream piping was a bit faded, but it was Hellne's favorite. "He's right," she told Diia as she tied it at her hip. "I am short of friends and he'll move against me soon. But I can't leave yet. What if Rhuun should come back? With no one here to protect him, he doesn't have a chance."

Diia poured Hellne some water. "He has friends he doesn't know about, many friends."

Hellne sighed. Gossip and rumors were easy to repeat, but if it came to it, how many ‘friends’ would it take to stand against both Yuenne and the Mages? "Perhaps it would be best if he made his way to the human world and stayed there."

"His place is here," Diia said. "He must come back." She spoke rather more loudly than usual, and Hellne cocked her head curiously.

"You've been listening to talk in the Quarter," she said
. Control the message
, Yuenne had once told her. She had to admit, he’d been right. "It sounds like you believe it."

"There's been talk in the Quarter for a long time," Diia replied. "Talk about bringing back the rain. Young Ilaan only repeats what's been said since the Weapon. Since before Jaa and I bore your tales to town. The prince must come back, and he must follow you to the High Seat."

Hellne kept the phrase 'superstitious nonsense' to herself. Right now, being the mother of the prince was a more valuable weapon than being the queen. She would have to rewrite her plans accordingly.

***

I
t was second moonrise and Hellne was about to send for her dinner when Diia brought her a message.

"The Zaal wishes to see you."

"By all means, send him in. I'll receive him on the balcony. Have him wait the usual amount of time." That gave her half an hour to arrange her heavy quilted robe, this one in cream and in better condition than the black, and neatly recoil and ornament her hair. The Zaal found her admiring the burning plains. If he was annoyed at being made to wait he didn't show it.

"Zaal, this is a surprise, to say the least. Please do sit." She poured him water and they passed the cup. She found she didn't want to follow him in sipping, but it would be unspeakably rude not to drink. The Zaal remained as blank faced as the most experienced courtier, deftly not noticing when she turned the cup away from where his mouth had been.