The King's Daughters (6 page)

Meanwhile servants had rushed to my side and were attempting to clean the red soup off my clothes.

"Oh, Prince Amir," Princess Thalia lamented. "It won't wash off. I know it. I have ruined many dresses the same way."

She was right. The stain was huge and too dark, it would never go away. My outfit was ruined. Yet I smiled as if it mattered not.

"Arr," grumbled the king around a mouthful of bread. "What a fuss over a spot. Men shouldn't wear white anyway."

"Father!" Eva's cheeks were red with embarrassment. "Amir usually doesn't wear such elaborate clothes. He favors much more practical outfits."

The king didn't reply. He just went on chewing.

"Please, don't worry. Your father is right. White is a difficult color to wear. I think I'll have the entire ensemble dyed red."

"That's a brilliant idea!" said Thalia.

I nodded enthusiastically. Deep down, I was fuming. I hated the color red. But not as much as I hated Lars. My only consolation was that now I didn't have to eat cold soup anymore.

While waiting for the second course to be served, I studied the other guests at my table. Prince Diego was seated next to Thalia. The plump princess had eyes only for him and kept giggling, talking, and blushing, while leaning heavily on his arm. She was enamored with him, that was obvious. It was also sad; because the long-haired prince made no effort to hide his lack of interest toward her—his rolling of eyes and heavy sighing were good indications of his feeling. Still, it failed to cool her ardor. Thalia began a long, unfocused and somewhat confusing story about a lost knitting needle. The look on the dandy's face turned from pure misery to utter agony.

Tired of that story myself, I scanned the length of the table. On my left sat an obscenely fat nobleman from Arguta dressed in an overly stretched-out blue silk suit. Then there was a group of stern-looking Minalians in dark gray coats, followed by several courtesans in bright-colored dresses. Some of those courtesans wore strange bouffant hairdos with feathers jutting out of it, while others had tall, pointy headdresses that rose up in the air like mountain peaks. And beyond this colorful group, at the far end of the table, I spotted the two barbarian warriors. Once more the woman stared back at me in a most peculiar way. It made me uncomfortable, and I looked away.

Directing my gaze to Eva, I found her looking at me with a sad little pout. She made subtle gestures, indicating that I should speak to the king, make conversation. I dared not try that again and shook my head.

"Something wrong, Prince Amir?" the king asked. "You seem agitated."

I felt my cheeks burning. "No—not at all."

At that very instant I knew without actually having to look for myself that everyone in the banquet hall was staring at me. I supposed they were all expecting me to say something inappropriate, again. I needed a safe subject of conversation. So I chose to talk about my brother, Sultan Keri, to speak of our time together and praise his merits; after all, he was the king's nephew. (Actually, Keri, or Erik as I called him, was the king's secret son.) To my relief, my account of our adventures and of my brother's subsequent ascension to the throne of Telfar captivated the entire assembly. For once, the king seemed pleased with me, and genuinely interested in what I was saying. Eva was beaming with joy. Her sisters, their eyes twinkling with excitement, were hanging on my every word. Even Prince Diego, who until now had appeared bored, was engrossed by my tale. Only Lars displayed a grim expression.

"This nephew of mine sounds like a fine young man," the king said, raising his goblet of wine.

"My brother is an exceptional individual."

"Indeed," agreed the king. "In comparison, meeting us must be a disappointment."

"Certainly not, Your Majesty. However, I was hoping to meet the queen. I've heard such good things about her. I must say I'm a bit disappointed by her absence. Will she not join us tonight?" I knew I had made another faux pas before I had finished my sentence. First, the room had become dead silent, mainly because everybody had frozen in mid-motion. Second, Prince Diego had been frantically gesturing for me to cease speaking from the moment the word
queen
came out of my mouth. As for Lars, well, if his grin got any larger, I feared his face would split in half. I looked at Eva's quivering lower lip and misty eyes; she appeared on the verge of tears. Oh, that couldn't be good. Reluctantly, I turned to the king and cringed.

King Erik looked like he wanted to strangle me. His cheeks were like two red bruises, his lips were thinned to nothing, and his eyes were now reduced to narrowed slits. He took a hissing breath and said through clenched teeth, "The queen's health is far too fragile to attend this evening's ceremony. Will you have her risk her life so you can satisfy your curiosity?"

"No! Absolutely not—I—I didn't—" I went on babbling.

"Save your breath, Prince. I have had enough of your blatant disregard for our customs and the welfare of our family. I've heard enough!" On this the king stormed out of the banquet hall.

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I felt sick. Worse, I felt gutted. Because right now I was sure that the king would never permit me to marry his daughter, and by the shattered look on Eva's face, so did she.

I spent the following two days under a dark cloud of hopelessness and misery. I stayed in bed almost the whole time, only arising to go searching for Eva. I couldn't find her anywhere, and all the messages I sent to her remained unanswered, which led me to believe that she was purposely avoiding me. Had I disappointed her beyond redemption? I asked Milo if I should have instead given them the tulip bulbs I had brought along with me.

Milo looked at me like I had spoken nonsense. "Pf . . . my lord should have gifted them soap. That's what they really need."

Even though Milo's comment was amusing, it failed to lift my spirits. Strangely, I felt that the mood in the castle mirrored mine. With each day that passed without receiving a demand of ransom, hope of seeing the kidnapped princess alive lessened. During my last excursion throughout the castle in search of my beloved Eva, I noted that the quantity of guards posted in the corridors had diminished, and that the remaining ones all had a disheartened air about them. Then again, everything seemed depressing and dull to me. I feared that if I persisted in wandering the castle in this pitiful sulking state I would soon be dubbed the moping prince.

I was entering a section of the castle I hadn't visited yet, when from the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a fleeting shadow on my left. I turned toward it and saw a dark silhouette vanishing through the stone wall. Baffled, I took a step back. I scratched my head. Had I seen right? Or was it a vision brought on by my melancholic state? My curiosity piqued, I approached the spot where the silhouette had vanished.

The area was more somber than the rest of the corridor. After inspecting the surroundings, I discovered that it was because there were no torches on the wall here.
That's odd.
I touched the cold, rough stones of the wall. Then as I walked along the corridor I noted a rectangular space on the wall where the stones were flatter and smoother than everywhere else. I glided my fingers over this smooth surface and smiled. This was a door painted to resemble stones.

"That's why there are no torches here. Darkness hides many things."

I probed the door seeking a knob or a latch. Under the pressure of my finger, the door popped open. I slipped inside.

"Lord!" I breathed. Dozens of bizarre creatures towered over me. I was surrounded. In the penumbra of the room, I couldn't tell what they were. But as my eyes became accustomed to the surrounding darkness their identities became clear: statues. The room was filled with them. There was also a vast quantity of paintings scattered all around. Most of these portraits depicted fierce-looking warriors and gorgeous nymphs. Well, that was only when they weren't portraits of bizarre and grotesque monsters, like the two canvases at my feet. The larger painting of the two was of a giant bird of prey with the torso of a young woman and the face of a hideous hag, while the other appeared to be of a serpentine creature with powerful arms and a lion's head. I returned my attention to the statues. Not all those were large, some were my height and many were smaller. Some were even tiny enough to fit in my fist. I approached a small round table overflowing with such tiny figures. Sea monsters, wolves, nymphs, all were represented in this format. Could this be a collection of some sort? I wondered. My father had been a great collector of rare objects. He had rooms filled with strange and wonderful things. Was this King Erik's collection? Somehow I doubted it. For one, most of these statues were constructed of vulgar material, like clay, stone, or bronze. While the majority of my father's objects were made of precious material: gold, silver, ivory, and such. There were treasures here, though. The paintings, which were done on wood planks, all appeared to have some precious metal covering on them. Even in the darkness I could distinguish the glimmers of gold and silver emanating from their front. Also some of the statues had gems applied to them.

My attention turned to the mound of shimmering blue silk drapes rising behind the table housing the miniatures. The statue underneath the drape was twice my height. Why was it covered? I wondered. I grabbed a handful of silk drape. I was about to pull it off the statue when I heard the sound of voices coming from further down the room.

Letting go of the drape, I tiptoed in the direction of the voices while careful not to break any statue along the way. The space was so tightly packed with them it rendered my progress slow and difficult. Once I reached the end of this room, I found an open archway leading into a second one.

Less cluttered by artifacts than the first, this new room offered me an unobstructed view of the group of people gathered in its center.

All clad in black-hooded robes, they stood close together in a tight circle with their hands joined and heads bowed, chanting—except for the tall figure in the center. This one stood fully erect in front of a pedestal supporting a small statue. By his height and the broadness of his shoulders, I deduced that the individual under the robe was a man. He began speaking; I could hear his voice, but because of the strange litany the others were chanting I couldn't understand anything he was saying. As for his face, it was, like all the others, hidden under his hood. One thing caught my attention though. The right sleeve of his hooded robe lay flat against his side—empty. This man was missing his right arm.

I was wondering if I should come out of my hiding place and introduce myself, when the circle of hooded people broke apart. Led by the one-armed man, the entire group walked behind the large tapestry that seemed to be dividing the room. I heard some rustling sounds and then nothing. I waited and waited.
What are they doing?

Tired of this waiting, I stole from my hiding place and made my way to the tapestry. "Aiii," I grumbled upon seeing the door it was hiding. Not wasting one more instant, I hurried through.

I emerged into a corridor, but it wasn't the same dark corridor I had come in from, but a brightly lit one. I looked around, amazed. This was a different section of the castle altogether, one filled with people. I searched the crowd for the black-robed group and thought I saw one of them passing from sight around a bend in the corridor. I was readying myself to give chase when I heard my name being called.

"Prince Amir, Oooh, Prince
Amiiir
."

I recognized Princess Thalia's playful tone. I turned and watched her approach. She wore a sunny-yellow dress which, by the tightness of its pleated waist and the stress placed on its seams, appeared to be two sizes too small. Although it might have made her waist look narrower, the roundness of her chin and the swells of her arms betrayed her true size. Which I thought wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

Smiling, I bowed to the young princess. "Your Highness."

"Oh, please rise," Princess Thalia said with a giggle. "Nobody here makes such a fuss over me. Call me Thalia."

"Well, they should. You're a princess."

"Eva's a princess. She's exactly how people imagine a princess should be. I'm just Thalia, her fat little sister."

"That is sad," I said.

She shrugged. "Not really. I've grown accustomed to being ignored. Eva's always been the favorite, you know—especially Father's."

"I'm sure the king loves you just as much," I said, feeling sorry for her.

Thalia pouted. "Yes. But he doesn't look at me the same way he looks at her, with pride. Father often says that Eva is smart enough to govern. That's because she's genuinely interested in the kingdom's affairs, politics, and even the military. Eva pays attention to these matters, while I couldn't care less about those things. They bore me terribly."

I nodded, smiling. I too had very little interest in these subjects.

"Enough about this!" she suddenly declared. "Have you seen Diego?"

My eyebrows rose.
Again!
I had met Thalia several times in the course of my searches for Eva and each time she had been seeking Prince Diego. "No. I must say I haven't."

"Oh." Thalia's demeanor took a somber turn. She was disappointed. "He always does that to me."

"Do what?"

"Hide." Thalia planted her fists on her waist. I could swear I heard some seams rip. Face pinched, she declared, "Oh, I will complain about that . . . " She paused, her face relaxed, and through an outburst of giggling she added, "But not too much. No one likes a nag."

She was so delightful I had to smile.

Thalia produced a little curtsey; then, to my utter dismay, grabbed the bottom of her dress, yanked it up a bit, and took off down the corridor at a dazzling speed. The girl could run like a gazelle.

"Princess Thalia, wait, wait," I shouted. "Princess, do you know where I can find Eva?" I sighed. It was pointless. Thalia was already too far away. I shook my head. These Sorvinkians were all crazy.