Too Many Princes (72 page)

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Authors: Deby Fredericks

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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Therula is right,

Lottres said, though his arms were folded stubbornly across his chest.

If we get into family history, we'll be here until dawn. Perhaps we should concentrate on the matter at hand.

Alustra didn't acknowledge Lottres's rebuke any more than she had before, but Pikarus quickly picked up the subject.


Her majesty has requested that my squad search for the king,

he said. It was a careful choice of words. Only Oskar or Garican could issue orders. Alustra had to make requests.

Will you both assist us?


We have to be careful,

Lottres cautioned.

He will sense it if we use our magic. Then we're all done for.


There's no reason you couldn't accompany us,

Pikarus said.

Your eyes are as good as any man's, and we may need magic to free them, regardless of the risk.


If the same enemy has taken both of them,

Shaelen ventured,

they may be held together. In finding one, we may find both.


That would be a great good fortune,

Alustra said. Therula was relieved to hear her make some effort at reconciliation.


When do we begin?

Lottres asked.

Supper is still going on in the Hall downstairs, but it won't last forever.


We must wait until high night,

Pikarus said.

But I think we shouldn't remain here much longer.


We need to rest, anyway,

Lottres said.

We've been traveling all day. Where can we wait and not be seen? In the barracks?


No, you'd be noticed,

Pikarus said.

Rumors would spread.


Your own quarters are occupied, I'm afraid,

Therula said.

Eskelon and Sebbelon needed a place to sleep, and I don't know where else we can put them. I don't think anyone is using Brastigan's room, though. He's supposed to be in it.

Lottres gave Shaelen another questioning look. She shrugged uncomfortably.


That will have to do,

Lottres said.

He and Shaelen rose, and Pikarus did, too. As they all trooped toward the door, Therula was left at the table with her mother, among the beautiful dishes and half eaten delicacies. She turned in her chair, watching Pikarus leave without touching her, without saying a word. Therula stared at her plate and stiffened her chin to keep it from trembling.

Alustra reached across the table to take her hand. She looked tired again, Therula thought. Perhaps the sparring with Lottres had reminded her of too many past conflicts, battles in a war which, truthfully, she had lost years ago. But a woman of Alustra's pride did not surrender, no matter what the situation might be. Though her skin was loose with age, her grip was as firm as ever.


I have learned,

Alustra said softly,

that a woman must never permit herself to be ignored.


Oh, Mother!

The blunt advice startled a laugh out of Therula. She came around the table to embrace her mother with fierce emotion.

I'm so glad you're back with us.

Then she sprang to her feet and ran after Pikarus. Therula found the three of them in the corridor. Lottres was turned toward the door, as if he had known she was coming.


I'm sorry about Mother,

Therula said as she joined them.

She will come around. Expedience overcomes ego, you know.


I wish she wouldn't always throw it in our faces. It's not like we wanted to be born out of turn.

Lottres slouched down the corridor, still irritated. The others followed him around the corner and down the stairs toward the inner courtyard.


I know,

Therula soothed. She also knew Alustra wasn't the only one who ought to apologize. Therula turned awkwardly to Shaelen.

If you don't want to use Brastigan's room, you can borrow my bed. I don't think I'll be going to sleep early.

Not while Cliodora was likely to burst in with all her questions the moment Therula returned from dinner. Not to mention her own worries about Oskar and Brastigan and the future of Crutham.


Don't be a prude,

Lottres snorted.

Nothing will happen.

Therula felt her cheeks tingle as he misunderstood her concern. As if she didn't know Brastigan had had women in his bed before!


Thank you,

Shaelen murmured.

That is kind of you, princess, but I think we should stay together.


I agree,

Pikarus said.

You're both too vulnerable as it is.


Shaelen can sleep in the bed,

Lottres went on.

I'll sleep on the floor.

Then he jumped, as if Shaelen had stepped on his foot, but Therula hadn't seen her move.


We won't be in the bed at the same time because one of us must keep watch,

Shaelen said. Strangely, Lottres was grinning at her.

They had crossed the inner courtyard and now descended the ramp toward the outer court. The sky was darkening above, and the towers of the keep were the color of a dove. Light from the windows of the grand hall spilled patches of color over the cobblestones. Vague forms moved behind the glass. Therula had the weird sense that she was an outsider in her own home. As if the evil being who impersonated her brother had walled her away from the true life of the keep. She found herself shivering.


Are you cold?

Pikarus asked. He moved beside her, not quite touching, yet near enough that she felt his presence like a woolen cloak.

Perhaps I should escort her highness to her chambers.


That's fine. I know where we're going,

Lottres said. As they separated, Lottres added,

But you aren't fooling anyone, Pikarus.

Therula pretended not to hear him. She lifted her chin and marched off toward the women's wing.

I'm not sure I like him as a wizard,

she grumbled as Lottres and Shaelen disappeared into the men's wing.


I suppose he can't help showing off,

Pikarus said. He sounded unperturbed. That bothered Therula almost as much as Lottres's teasing.

She should be glad, Therula thought. Pikarus wasn't purposely ignoring her. He had been distracted, and rightly so. His news—Oskar gone, a stranger in his place—was grave. Therula shouldn't have assumed his silence was sinister. She was a princess. She ought to know that everything wasn't always about her.

Candlelight inside the building made Therula blink. The flames seemed harsh and bright after the gray dusk outside. They walked in silence, though Therula's temples throbbed with tension. So many words, held in so long. She felt she must choke with the need to speak.


Come in for a moment, Sergeant,

Therula said when they reached her door. It was the same bland order she always gave, only now twisted by her tension.


Don't let Lottres upset you,

Pikarus said, accurately guessing some of her mind. He made sure the door was tightly closed before turning into the room.


But he's right, isn't he?

At last Therula dropped her pretense, let Pikarus see the fear in her eyes.

It's what we've been doing all along—hiding!


We both agreed that privacy is best.

Pikarus took her small, cold hands in his great warm ones.


I just don't want you to think I'm ashamed of you,

Therula blurted out.


I never thought that,

Pikarus scolded affectionately. He drew Therula into his arms. She clung to his strength and wished she could stop shaking.


Everything has been so confused,

Therula told him.

And I missed you so much! Father died, and then Oskar was acting so odd, and that stupid gamble of his. I was so afraid of what you would say.


You couldn't have known it,

he said,

but King Oskar must already have been replaced when you made your wager with him. The dragon has ways to make you agree with him, even if it wasn't what you wanted. Don't dwell on it, my love.


I hadn't thought of that.

Therula leaned against Pikarus, feeling a flood of relief.

Even so, I was afraid you would meet another woman on your journey. It seemed like Father did, every time he stepped out the door. I couldn't bear it if you didn't want me any more.


Never think that!

Pikarus bent toward Therula. She sighed with sweet relief and clung to him while they kissed passionately. Ah, this is what she had longed for all day. No, all week—all month! Soon Therula was warm from head to toe. She no longer had any doubt of her lover's feelings.

Even when their lips parted, Pikarus held Therula close.


Our enemy has made you question yourself,

he murmured.

You must be strong, for the danger is still great. Now I must go. Javes and our squad will need to prepare for tonight's work.


I know.

Therula nodded reluctantly. She stood on her toes to kiss him again.

Go. Send word when you've found either one of them. And be careful, my love.

* * *

Brastigan lay on the pallet, waiting for his emotions to fade along with the pain and nausea. Emotion, he thought with disgust. That had been his problem all along: emotion. Ever since he left Harburg on Yriatt's quest, he'd been so turned around, he didn't know what he was doing. Emotion drove Lottres away from him. Emotion made him turn to a girl who was only half there. Emotion over Unferth's death blinded him to danger.

It was time to remember he was a warrior. A great warrior, he reminded himself. If Ysislaw was vain enough to think this one skirmish meant victory over Brastigan, so much the better. He would teach the tyrant, in time.

Strangely, Brastigan found himself grinning. He no longer felt hung over. He was invigorated, alive with purpose. No more of this sitting around, waiting

as the girl would wait—for someone to tell him what to do. Brastigan knew what he had to do. It was a relief to have a clear goal, even if it was as simple as getting out of this prison.

Brastigan sat up, holding out his hands for a close look at the bindings. The single, long chain ran through a round steel eye in the wall behind him. It connected the two metal cuffs on his wrists. Ah, but the cuffs weren't solid metal bolted together by the chain. They opened or closed with a hinge. Each had a spring-catch, and the black slot of a simple lock.

Here was something he could work with. Brastigan grinned again, blessing the many days he had wasted at the Dead Donkey. He yanked off his empty sword belt. With the buckle's flat tongue, he set to work on those locks. It might take a while to worry them open, but he would manage. At the moment, he had nothing but time.

 

 

 

 

 

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