Of Silver and Beasts (8 page)

She smirks. “Well, Kal. I have heard there’s a few ways to hush a man up. You could—”

“Bye,” I snap into the device, cutting her off.

“Bye, Kal.” She laughs into the device once more, and then the transmission link shuts down. The blue-green holographic image of her zaps away.

Lilly has always been more outgoing than me when it comes to relationships. She’s tried being my matchmaker more than once. Yet hearing the prince talked about in that manner only succeeds in making my stomach roil. I suspect that was her intention, as she knows just how lame I am when it comes to these matters. But she’ll soon see for herself just how annoying His Highness can be.

I slip the transmitter into my chest harness as Silvia exits the prince’s chamber and stands before me in the corridor. “Nothing to report, mistress,” she whispers. “He ate, bathed, and then slept through the night. He asked to be awoken at the same time as you this morning before he retired.”

“Thank you, Silvia.” I give her a small smile, thinking it sounds more like she’s speaking of a baby rather than a prince. Which, by his behavior yesterday, isn’t too far off. “Just keep me posted if he should do or say anything alarming.”

She bows her head low, then shuffles off to my room. I open my mouth to stop her, but close it as she quickly slips inside and shuts the door. When I asked her to keep after the prince, I didn’t intend for her to continue looking after me, also. Pressing my lips together, I decide I’ll direct another maid to work alongside her so she doesn’t become overburdened.

Staring at my room door, I consider going back in and contacting my mother. It’s only been two days since I last saw her, but that sinking feeling I had as we parted before the ceremony has been a nagging constant ever since. I know that Emily is taking care of her, but this has been the longest we’ve been separated. I need to make sure she’s taking her meds and that she’s all right.

I take a step toward my room, but freeze when the prince’s door opens. He halts mid-stride when he sees me, his eyes scanning my form.

His lips curl into a crooked sneer. “Am I to never be alone, then?” he asks, annoyed.

I raise an eyebrow. “Were you ever alone in your kingdom?”

He releases an audible breath and crosses his arms over his chest. I figure I’ve made my point when he doesn’t deny it.

“Did you have breakfast in your room? Or does His Highness wish to be escorted to the dining hall?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” He turns on the heel of his boot and heads down the corridor toward the lift.

Of course. Breakfast is for the weak!
“Fine,” I mutter, falling into step behind him.

After we reach the bottom level of the palace, the silver doors part and we step into the inner ward. The morning sun shines through the stained glass windows, casting colorful hues across the marble floor and walls. The whirring from sweeper-bots mingles together with the chatter form Court members as they flurry around.

Halfway across the foyer, I realize the prince is heading for the palace doors. I step in front of him. “Hold it, Prince Paynebridge. Where do you intend to go?”

He sidesteps me. “Out.”

I step before him again. “No. You’re not permitted to leave the palace.”

“I want to see Cavan,” he says, dodging me.

Planting my hand firmly on his chest, I hold my stance. “Your memories of our great capital city will have to serve you at this time. We have more pressing issues at the moment, don’t you agree?”

“I was young when my father last brought me here, and I want to see the city—get a feel for the people and customs again.” He maneuvers to his right, knocking my hand aside, and quickly changes direction, evading my block.

Groaning, I launch myself in front of his path. “If you want to explore, you’ll need a full guard with you. You can’t simply wander around the city unprotected.”

“Why? Do I have something to fear from your country?” His eyebrows lift. “Is your realm so unruly that your citizens would attack royalty?”

Biting down on my lip, I consider taking him to the Baltique Quarter—to one of the pubs where the thugs and mercenaries hang out. But then I think better of angering my empress and sigh. “No, Your Highness. You have nothing to fear. But Cavan is not unlike any other city. We do have our rogues. You should take a full guard.” I lift my chin, challenging. “This seems like something a wise ruler of a kingdom would know.”

Dipping his head forward, the prince glares at me through a thick fringe of lashes, his deep blue eyes alight with humor . . . or scorn. “Have you never attempted to do anything at all adventurous, Protector Kaliope?” He tilts his head, his eyes squint. “No. I imagine that as head of the empress’s guard, spontaneity would not be a desired quality.” His eyes travel over my form. “But at least I know I’ll be well protected.”

A laugh almost escapes my lips. “I’m vowed to protect my
empress
.” Turning to lead us back toward the inner ward, I let the knowledge of who I’m
not
vowed to protect linger in the air.

After a short while, I glance over my shoulder to make sure His Stubbornness is keeping up, and find he’s gone. “Bastard.” Scanning people as they pass, I glimpse the tail of a gray tunic slipping through the palace doors. I sprint across the inner ward, dodging and barely colliding with a protector, then throw the doors open and search the court. A hooded figure races down the steps, his dark gray pants peeking below the cover-up.

“Stubborn, infuriating male—” I bite down on my rant and look to the heavens.
Farrah, forgive me if I must end this man.

Ignoring the curious stares, I jog down the steps and hurry across the court to catch up with the prince. When I reach him, I match his brisk pace and unsheathe my sword, then press its tip into his lower back.

“As I said,” I pant out, catching my breath. “I’m not vowed to protect you. Or any man, for that matter.”

He turns slowly, and my sword traces the dark brown cloak until its edge is flush against his side. He adjusts the hood, pulling it forward to further hide his face. “Ah, but you did promise your empress you’d guard me. That is a vow in itself. So you best keep up.” He turns and starts back on his course toward the palace gatehouse.

Tempted to sick Carina on him, I bring my transmitter to my mouth, but stop before pressing the button. She’d definitely knock him around, and that’d be fun to watch, but then I’d be found wanting in my duty. And not just by her, but by my empress. Squeezing my eyes closed and saying a prayer for patience, I pocket the transmitter in my harness and follow after him.

“You’re not my only responsibly,” I say once I’m by his side. “But your selfishness probably chases away any respect for others and their
job
. I should be with my Nactue right now. Not sitting a spoiled prince.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure they’re doing their duties well. Besides, your empress obviously feels they can handle themselves. Shouldn’t you trust her judgment?” His eyes cut my way. “Anyway, I need some fresh air.”

Annoyed, I press my lips together hard. “You’ve just come from a long journey across the realms. I doubt you’re in need of fresh air this soon.”

“Believe me,” he mutters. “I am.”

As we approach the gatehouse, the prince looks down to hide his face and I nod to Claudia. She allows us to pass, and we step into the bustling city.

The dusty, main street of Straver leads us down a straight path. Towering buildings peaked with domed, glinting glass rooftops casts shadows across downtown. Neon lights swirling a bright blue-white stream along the middle the buildings, just above the panels of displays showing a live event at the raceway. The sharp, electric sound of Cury-crafts hovering over the roadways echoes off the panes of glass.

Prince Paynebridge stops and looks at one of the panels. “Let’s go there,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to bet on a race.”

Dumbfounded, I stare blankly at him. “There’s a war starting. Your country is under attack. Your citizens are being evacuated. And you want to bet on a race? Shouldn’t you be with the Council, plotting how to conquer the Otherworlders?”

Without a word, he begins walking again. I shake my head. I don’t understand his shifting moods or his logic. From his arrogant, angered rants yesterday, to his frivolous behavior now, it’s as if he has split personalities. I want to shake him, slap him around, and drag him back to the palace and lock him up in the ward. I could claim he’s mentally unstable.

Once we reach the end of Straver, he looks down both intersecting streets. “Which way to a shop where I can buy new clothes?”

“Ridiculous,” I say under my breath, but lead him down Collin Street.

Sleek Cury-crafts hover past us. The buildings here are taller, cleaner, and the people wear finer clothing. I figure a prince would want to shop in the nicest part of Cavan, but to my surprise, he walks toward a store that sells work uniforms.

The glass doors part and we step inside the dim-lit shop. It smells of polyester and starch, but at least their cooling system works. A blast of cold air hits my damp skin and clothes, and my skin tightens, itchy. While the prince is hunting a new wardrobe, I covertly check my wrist. No swirls of mercury. I can’t let this man work me into a mood. With the day’s heat rising, it’s already becoming too difficult to keep the mercury checked.

He runs his hand along the racks of neutral-colored clothing until he comes to what I assume is the section carrying his size. He yanks out a pair of pants and a tunic. Next he decides on a matching cloak. I guess I was too angry to realize he’d stolen the one he now wears.

“So, I suppose you plan to return the one you’re wearing back to its owner?” I fold my arms over my chest, hiding my hands just in case.

“Unlike you,” he says as he inspects the garment, “the man was very civil and gave it to me. But it’s too small.”

I check out his broad shoulders, the definition of tight, lean muscles from his arms and back pressing against the cloak. Averting my eyes quickly when they begin to scan his lower regions, I focus on passerby while he pays the merchant and accepts the bag of clothing.

Once we’re outside the shop, he says, “The palace ground. Where are the stables kept?”

“Does His Highness wish to go for a leisurely ride, now?” I roll my eyes and start walking. “Why not just purchase your own horse. And a stable, too. Hell, why not invest in a vacation home here in Cavan and spend your time there. Then I can get back to my Nactue and empress, and the situation with the Otherworlders.” I drop my voice on this last part, not wanting to upset passing citizens.

“I can purchase a horse? Where?”

As if he’s missed the whole point of my rant, his eyes widen, searching my face curiously. I halt walking and match his determined glare. What is he up to? Does he truly think he’ll best me and ride out of Cavan on horseback?

He breaks our eye contact and looks down the street. “Would I stable it at the palace court or somewhere else?”

“Prince Paynebridge—”

“Please,” he interrupts. “Just Caben. My father was King Paynebridge, and I’m yet to be crowned.” He drops his sudden morose expression and the side of his mouth hitches into a side-grin. “And, I don’t think my first name would sound as condescending coming from your lovely lips.”

Pursing my lips, trying to ignore his smug comment about them, I attempt again. “Prince
Caben
—”

He groans. “I was wrong. You seem to have a talent for making everything sound venomous.”

I give up. Throwing my hands in the air, I march off. As we reach the dining quarter, he glances into a window running along the side of a restaurant and stops to stare in. His brow furrows.

“Are you hungry, Prince Caben?”

“Do the men always serve the women?” he asks, his gaze trailing a man placing a steaming dish before his wife.

“Sometimes,” I say, “when they want to show their devotion and respect.” I study his eyes—blue and haunted—and wonder what he’s thinking. “How are the women shown respect in Perinya?”

He slowly backs away from the window, his eyes lost and faraway. Then he focuses them on me. “They’re taken care of.”

“What do you mean by ‘taken care of’?” I cross my arms over my chest.

He matches my stance, resting his weight heavily on the heels of his boots. “A man will marry and take care of a woman. Provide for her. A woman seeks to be married as soon as possible in Perinya.” He laughs. “I mean, why would anyone marry otherwise if not to be taken care of?”

Anger slices through me, and I feel the mercury flowing like lava through my veins. “How do you know women can’t take care of themselves? Look around you.” I open my arms wide. “Do any of the women of Cavan seem incapable?”

He shakes his head. “It’s different there. In Perinya, women don’t want to work as a man does. They enjoy being doted on and only looking after their children.”

“I don’t believe any woman would not want the right to choose her own profession,” I say, my voice low, angry. “It’s proven that a woman’s mind works differently than a man’s—”

“Oh—” He chuckles. “I have no doubt about that.”

“As I was saying.” I adjust the hilt of my sword, reminding him that he carries no weapon. “Women think faster. It’s a fact that the white matter of the brain is responsible for decision making, and neurons are packed more tightly in a woman’s, making us the more logical choice to be in a position to govern and make decisions. I don’t believe for a moment that the women there have
chosen
to be the weaker sex.”

Prince Caben shakes his head again. “You sound like a scientific broadcast. Or a brainwashed cult leader.”

I take a step forward but he raises his hands. “I’m not trying to start a war here,” he says. Then lowering his hands, he steps closer to me. “I’ve no doubt that women succeed in areas where men falter. But men are stronger physically. It simply makes sense that the stronger sex should be placed in power. To defend and rule.” His blue eyes penetrate mine. “You still have men in your army?”