The Emerald Prince (12 page)

Victoria looked up at her father, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes filled with tears. This was the face that got her a pony before she was old enough to ride. Her father could not say no to this face. “Please Father, for one night I just want it to be you and me and that’s all.”

“How about tomorrow? I’ve already promised to dine with Zariya tonight.”

“But Father!”

“I said no. You’re welcome to come with me, but I’m having evening meal with Zariya.” The king left the room without another word.

Victoria followed quickly behind him. Servants were already setting up the table when they reached Zariya’s chambers. Victoria’s heart quickened when she noticed there were already three place settings. The witch always seemed to be one step ahead of her.

The princess’s only comfort was she knew her father wouldn’t eat that foul smelling stew that Zariya seemed to enjoy. Whatever else happened, Victoria wouldn’t have to protect him from that.

One of the servants approached the king with the stew and raised the ladle, offering some to the king who shook his head. Then, he moved to Zariya who nodded, and the young man filled her bowl. Finally, he offered the stew to Victoria. She put her hand over her empty bowl and shook her head.

Zariya smiled wickedly at Victoria and then said to the king, “You should really try the rhodda stew. I know it smells awful, but it tastes much better. There is a reason why rhodda meat is a delicacy.”

The king gestured for the boy to fill his bowl. He picked up his spoon and leaned down to take a bite when Victoria jumped up from the table. “Don’t!”

The king looked up, still holding death in his hand.

“Father, don’t eat the soup. It’s poisoned.”

“Poisoned? Why would you think it’s poisoned?” The king asked.

What could Victoria do? She refused to let her father die. “Because I poisoned it.”

The king lowered the spoon. “Why would you do that?”

Victoria glanced over to Zariya who casually ate her stew, watching the exchange.

“My love! No!” The king cried.

Zariya laughed, then ate another spoonful of stew. “Forgive me, this is one of my favorite meals; I didn’t want it to get cold. Now what were you saying? Something about attempting to assassinate me, correct?”

Victoria didn’t have words to express her confusion. The woman was eating poison, and remained unharmed. “Demon! You are not a witch! You’re a demon!”

The king stood up from the table, dwarfing his daughter. “That is a very serious charge. What proof do you have?”

“She told me she was a witch. I put poison in her food, yet she lives! She’s a witch!”

Zariya rolled her eyes. “I’m no more a demon than you are. The reason I am not dead is because mint leaves are not poisonous, though they do taste great in rhodda stew.”

Victoria stared with her mouth hanging open as Marla stepped into the room.

“Marla couldn’t live with the idea of killing an innocent woman just because her mistress was jealous. So she came to me and told me about your plot to poison me. I gave her the leaves.”

Victoria’s stomach tightened. “You used your powers on Marla? You made her betray me?”

“Guards!” Zariya yelled and two armed men in chain mail entered her room. “Escort Her Highness to the dungeon, and take her pet, in her chambers, down there also. Wouldn’t want to leave her without something to do.”

Victoria’s fists were so tight her palms bled. “You do not rule here. My father does. He’s the only one that could ever order me to a dungeon. So get that through your head. I’m the princess of this court. Not you.”

Zariya turned to the king who looked more pained than Victoria could ever remember. “Take her.”

Chapter Twenty Four

Blaine gripped the hilt of his sword as he scanned the soldiers surrounding him and Elliot. Nan was in a chair, tied to a rope, being lowered down the side of the wall to her people. She was being sent to deliver a message to the Ghas leader. The soldiers did little to hide their resentment over a woman who had killed so many of them being set free. The tension was so potent Blaine wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if a riot started and both he and Elliot ended up dead.

I can’t believe my father wasted so much time and effort trying to kill you. Your naiveté is far more dangerous than an assassin’s blade.

But things were different now. Wherever Elliot went, Blaine would follow, even in death. Allowing him to be killed wasn’t an option. Even if he had to slay his fellow soldiers, Elliot would be protected.

Over an hour passed, and there was no sign of the Ghas. The leader may have been presented with Elliot’s offer and decided not to take it. There was no reason to believe Elliot wasn’t simply exchanging one prisoner for a more important one. Or Nan could have been lying about all the Ghas tribes being united under one leader. She probably would have said anything to save her life.

But in a way, they were lucky the Ghas hadn’t decided to come back. Without using Blaine’s plan, there was no way the Entian soldiers could hold the keep against so many. The pause in conflict gave reinforcements a chance to arrive, which kept Blaine’s hand from being forced. Because when it came down to it, he wouldn’t let them take the keep, even if Elliot objected. Elliot thought what happened to Nan was unconscionable. He had no idea what the Ghas would do if they got their hands on the Crown Prince of Entia.

Blaine sensed a change in the men around him. He followed their collective gazes down toward the valley.

It can’t be him.

He was tall, taller than Blaine had ever imagined him growing. His chest was broad and muscular, far different from the lanky boy Blaine remembered. His long black hair blew in the wind, leaving only three beaded braids against his cheek. He wore nothing but a loin cloth and carried a spear.

One thing that hadn’t changed over time were his eyes. His irises were so dark, they looked black, and even now his stare cut through Blaine. If there was any doubt the man that stood before them was Arayo, the scar across his brow was definitive proof. Blaine was there the day Arayo got that scar.

The knight had just turned fifteen when his father decided he was ready for his first command. There were several incidents involving Ghas workers at Storm’s Edge, and Blaine was sent there to put a stop to it.

He had no idea how to stop anyone from doing anything. As he rode into Storm’s Edge, his stomach flopped so much he thought he was going to be sick. A memorable introduction to his men.

The boy that took the reins of his horse startled him. Their eyes met, and never in Blaine’s life had he ever seen such pure unabashed hatred. He wasn’t sure if the boy was going to groom his horse or kill it. Blaine’s expression must have showed his discomfort because the next thing he knew, Sir Kelone, his second in command, struck the boy in the face with the hilt of his sword.

He fell to the ground, and even as the cut bled into his eye, the boy still held that same hateful glare.

Kelone spit in the boy’s direction. “This is Lord Rynden’s son. A noble-born. Dirt like you has no right to look at him, and if you don’t lower your eyes, I’ll cut them out.”

The boy stood up and dusted himself off, the same look of complete disgust on his face. He grabbed the horse’s reigns and headed for the stables. Only then did he stop staring at Blaine.

“Ungrateful, little shit. I’ll have him flogged for this.”

Blaine held up his hands. “That won’t be necessary. All he did was look at me.”

“But Commander, it’s about respect. He disrespects you. He disrespects all of us.”

“You have my orders. Leave him alone.” Those were the first orders Blaine ever gave. He tried his best to sound like his father, but he didn’t even have a man’s voice yet. Why should anyone listen to him?

However, Kelone obeyed. “Yes, Sir.”

That night, all Blaine could think about was the boy and those dark angry eyes. He wondered what he could have possibly done in the few minutes he’d been in Storm’s Edge to cause so much hate. Maybe if he understood why one worker was so angry, then he’d be able to handle the rest of them.

Blaine got out of bed and walked over to the adjoining room where his attendant slept. He shook the servant awake and ordered him to find the stable boy that tended his horse and to bring him to his chambers.

Blaine sat at a table, looking out the tiny slit of a window that was in his quarters when the attendant returned with the stable boy. “Thank you, you may leave us.”

The attendant stumbled back to his bed half-asleep with little interest as to why Blaine was having him fetch stable boys in the middle of the night.

“Hello, I’m Blaine, the commander here for the time being.”

Without a word, the boy looked down and began working the knot that held the piece of cloth he wore around his waist. It took several seconds for Blaine to understand what he was doing and why. “Wait. No.” Blaine walked over to him and stayed his hand. “I didn’t ask you up here for that.”

The boy tilted his head in confusion. “Then why did you call me to your quarters in the middle of the night?” His voice was so flat and hollow, it nearly broke Blaine’s heart to hear him speak.

“I just wanted to talk to you. Like I said, I’m the commander now, and I was wondering if there was anything I could do to make your work here more pleasant.”

“It’s as pleasant as you can make it,” he said in a disinterested tone.

Blaine knew that wasn’t true. The bruise over his eye was proof at least one thing needed to be added to the list. “What do you mean? As pleasant as I can make it?”

“Your kind doesn’t need sunlight or fresh air. You shut yourselves up in dank stone boxes. I will serve your kind until my captivity kills me and then another will take my place. I can’t expect to be treated any better than you treat your own.”

My kind?
Did he not think they were the same species?

“If you don’t want to be here, why don’t you just leave? I know you can’t be here against your will. Slavery is illegal in Entia.”

The boy looked at him in disbelief. “If I leave, my family won’t get the grain I work for and will starve.”

Blaine had no idea there was a food shortage in the valley, but it made sense. The land there was harsh. A simple solution popped into Blaine’s head. It surprised him no one else had thought of it. Because of political intrigues between his family and the Kalsens, the army was smaller than it should have been. They had a surplus of grain and would for years to come.

“What if I just ordered enough food to feed all your people shipped to Storm’s Edge on a regular basis. And instead of your people coming in here and never leaving again, why not establish a rotation of workers. That way everyone gets fresh air and sunshine, which by the way, we do like also.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, making Blaine feel like he’d won a hundred battles. “You’d really do that?”

Blaine shrugged. “I have the authority, and it’s my job to solve the problem. Why not?”

“I think I’m going to go back to taking my clothes off now.”

Blaine’s breath caught. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Arayo.”

After that, life at Storm’s Edge became a dream from which he never wanted to wake. The increased supplies meant that both the Ghas tribals and the soldiers of the keep ate better than they had in a long time. People were happy. They weren’t trying to kill each other anymore. Soldiers could enter the valley and come back alive, and they discovered Ghas women were much more receptive to male attention when they weren’t starving to death.

It was a joyous time, especially for Blaine who prided himself on his first command being such a success. He’d actually made things better for people. And every morning, he woke up staring into the eyes of someone he loved. He’d even started learning the Ghas language, though his first phases were things he couldn’t utter outside the bedroom.

Then his father told him to come home. He had every intention of returning as soon as completed whatever task his father had for him.

But his father was calling him home in shame. In his eyes, all his son had done was foolishly waste army resources. Lord Rynden had to solve the problem himself. He sent a second letter to Sir Kelone telling him to execute all the Ghas workers as soon as Blaine had left. A harsh lesson in respect.

Blaine didn’t even get a chance to mourn. His father shipped him to Fezam to help defend the colonies right after he admonished him for being frivolous and failing to do his duty.

But now Blaine realized those tears were for nothing. Arayo lived.

Arayo walked toward the wall until he was out of view. When the rope over the edge went taut, the men began hoisting him up.

Blaine’s heart raced. Arayo was in such a precarious position. The keep was thirty floors high, more than enough to kill Arayo with just a nip of the rope. But with the Ghas able to attack at any moment, they couldn’t open the gates. The chair was the only way.

Elliot had promised the safety of whoever came to speak for the Ghas, but Blaine wasn’t sure he could keep Elliot safe and now Arayo too.

Blaine sighed in relief when Arayo finally reached the top and the men helped him over the edge. One soldier made a point to relieve him of his spear which Arayo let go of without a fight. He hadn’t come this far to fight an army on his own. The fact that he came at all, when the Entian position was so weak, meant the Ghas were open to a peaceful solution, though Blaine couldn’t for a second imagine what that solution would be.

The prince turned to Blaine. “Welcome him and introduce us.”

Before Blaine could utter a word, Arayo answered, “I speak your language, savage.”

With a gesture, Elliot stopped the nearest soldier from chopping down Arayo where he stood. “Negotiations will go much smoother if we don’t need a translator. You should know, my father, the king, has granted me full authority in this matter.”

Arayo feigned shocked. “Oh, forgive the disrespect. I had no idea who you were.” He bowed deeply, the way an Entian commoner would bow to a Lord. “I am honored to be in your presence, Prince of Savages.”