The Lost Prince (29 page)

The road twisted through the woods, and Dean saw light
beyond the trees at the edge of the forest. He heard music and voices too. Waverly flipped up the hood on her cloak. “Keep your head down as we pass through the village. Remember, we’re not supposed to be here.”

“Right.” Dean nodded and covered up as they rounded the bend into the village up ahead. What he saw there shocked him. The poor hamlet was almost unworthy of the name. The place was a disparate collection of lean-tos, sheds, and tumbledown shanties that called up memories of Bartleby Bay. The only difference was, the Zenhalan village was less crowded and its people less unhappy. Dean and Waverly were hardly dressed to blend in. Dressed in palace clothes, they stood in stark contrast to the shabby attire of the villagers, but the people hardly noticed. They were in the middle of some kind of celebration and barely registered Dean and Waverly’s presence. As they moved through town, Dean saw people smoking pipes outside their hovels and drinking from clay cups around numerous bonfires. Music from a small three-man band was playing, and people were dancing, young and old. It was late, but the children were all up. Everyone looked thin. Sickly. Malnourished. Dean wondered why he hadn’t seen these people before, and what they could possibly have to be so happy about.

“What are they celebrating?” he asked Waverly. “Do you know?”

“You,” she replied. “They celebrate you. Just like back at court, everyone assumes you’re the prince now that you’ve passed all
the trials. When the storm returns tomorrow, they expect you’ll prove it.”

Dean said nothing.
When the storm returns tomorrow, I’ll be gone.

He couldn’t understand why the fate of the prince meant so much to the people here. He had grown up in the service of a king (of sorts) and harbored no such love or loyalty for the man. Granted, One-Eyed Jack had done nothing to deserve either, but the people Dean had just seen, poverty-stricken and dressed in rags … what did they care if their long-lost prince came home to live a pampered life in his palace?

Dean and Waverly pressed on until the village lights shrank from sight on the road behind them. Eventually, they came upon a stream, and Waverly stopped. She pointed to a vineyard that grew beside an out-of-service mill. Dean looked around but saw precious little. The old mill’s wheel was not turning. The water levels in the stream were too low to reach it, and the giant wheel hung in place like a ship in dry dock. There was nothing else in sight for miles.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“We’re here.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly.”

Waverly headed for the mill, and Dean followed. They didn’t get within ten feet of the river before a door swung open. Two
men wearing armor came out with their hands upon their swords. “Who goes there?” the first man called.

Waverly raised a hand, signaling Dean to stop. “Lady Waverly Kray,” she announced. “And the lost prince, Dean Seaborne, soon to be your king.”

The guards relaxed their posture when they realized they were dealing with royalty. They were shocked to see Waverly, and starstruck by Dean. “Lady Kray. Your Grace! ’Tis an honor. What brings you here at this late hour?”

“My father’s bidding,” Waverly told them. “The prince expressed a desire to see the orchard, and my father ordered that we grant his wish at once. May we pass?”

The guards were silent for a moment. Waverly’s explanation was clearly a bit of a head scratcher for them. “Your father sent you here, in the middle of the night?”

“Despite our protests, I assure you,” Waverly said. “I’m afraid when the subject of the orchard came up at tonight’s feast, our prince was unable to hide his curiosity. So taken was he with the notion of the orchard that my father declared he must see it this very night. We tried to argue, but my father just laughed. He said this would surely be his last opportunity to give the prince an order. Father was in quite a jovial mood this evening, if you understand my meaning.” She raised a hand to her lips and threw her head back as if drinking from an imaginary goblet. “Now, if you gentlemen would be so kind as to open the gates?”

The two guards looked at each other, mulling the matter over. It was an unorthodox request but one made by their current leader’s daughter in the presence of their future king. In the end, that was enough. “Yes, my lady. At once.” They lowered their heads toward Dean. “Your Grace.”

When the guards disappeared back inside the mill, Dean nudged Waverly. “When did you become such a good liar?”

Waverly shrugged. “If I didn’t know how to bend the truth every now and then, I’d never have any fun. I prefer to look at it as unconventional thinking.”

Dean smiled. Waverly had stolen a map to help him cheat on his last trial. She was there with him lying on his behalf and sneaking him into the orchard. The two of them had so much in common. Dean felt certain he was doing the right thing.

“Watch this.” Waverly nodded toward the old mill’s door, hanging crooked on a worn hinge. Inside, Dean heard the sound of a large switch being thrown and the clicking noise of turning gears. Outside, he watched the mill’s waterwheel lower steadily into the stream. It snapped into place and began to turn.

Dean breathed in sharply as the vineyard rose up out of the ground. At first, it seemed impossible, but he soon realized the vines were growing over a massive iron trellis, and the river’s power had been harnessed to raise it. The two sides flipped up like the lids of a box, revealing Zenhala’s priceless treasure inside.

Of all the sights Dean had seen since first setting foot on
the island, this was the most spectacular. It might have been the greatest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. He drifted toward the edge of the orchard as if lost in a dream. The field was roughly two hundred feet long, a hundred feet wide, and filled with trees planted in neat rows. The trees were not overly large. Each one was no taller than the average man, and their trunks were no wider than Dean’s legs. As expected, their branches were mostly empty, but what remained on their limbs twinkled in the moonlight, to Dean’s eternal pleasure.

“Extraordinary,” Dean said, his voice barely a whisper. He hesitated before entering. “Can I?”

“Of course.” Waverly motioned him forward. “Go.”

Dean walked through the orchard, marveling at what he found. The trees inside were already bearing fresh, new fruit. Baby buds grew on the branches like round golden apples. Most were no bigger than musket balls, but that was big enough. Flowers on the trees bloomed in a wide range of colors. There were blue trees, white trees, red, pink, and purple. They were gorgeous. “How many are there?” Dean asked.

“The orchard has exactly one hundred trees. All the noble families own trees here. That’s how they all became noble in our country’s first days. The trees bloom in different colors representing the houses that own them.”

Dean felt a thick, blue flower petal with his fingers. “Half the trees are blue.”

“Representing the House of Aquos. Your house.” Waverly reached up and tore a dead leaf away from a fresh golden bud. “The Aquos family trees are not just the most numerous but also the heartiest in the orchard. They produce enough gold to feed half the kingdom and still keep your house the richest in the land.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“No one has. No one who isn’t born of the island, at least. That’s why I agreed to bring you here. You see, I
do
believe you’re the prince. I have a feeling about you, Dean. I don’t think you know yourself as well as you claim to.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dean said. “I know myself all too well.”

“Tell me, then. Why are we here? What is it you wanted to ask me?”

Dean looked around at the orchard. He was ecstatic. The legends were true. Without question, he could rob this place with a clean conscience. The real crime would be passing up such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dean was looking at enough gold to tide One-Eyed Jack over until next year’s shipment. That plus the details of the Bermuda Triangle’s storm cycle would guarantee his freedom. The only question was whether or not Waverly would come with him.

He was about to ask her when he noticed something strange about the trees. Not counting the blue trees, which took up half
the orchard, every other color seemed to bloom in equal measure. “Waverly, how it is that the Ralians are the second-richest family in Zenhala? They don’t seem to have that many more trees than anyone else.”

Waverly frowned. “No. The Ralians are just very protective of their fortune.”

Dean chewed on that a moment. “Protective or stingy?”

“Selfish and greedy is more like it. The noble families all provide for the people on their land. The Ralians keep the majority for themselves and share very little with their people. The village we passed on the way here was one of theirs.”

Dean remembered the village full of people living in squalor, and the temperature inside his stomach plummeted. He got a bad feeling, the same one that had struck him on board the
Santa Clara
when he realized they were about to steal food that was meant for hungry children. “Are there more towns like that?”

Waverly nodded. “Dozens. Unfortunately, even the more generous houses can only afford to do so much. Very few crops thrive on the island except the trees you see here. That should be enough, and for many years it was. Zenhala used to be a land of plenty, but ever since you were taken, only half the Aquos family gold goes to feed the people. Half the ships that sail with the island’s harvest sell it for goods and supplies. The others search for you, and the gold they carry goes to fund their year at sea.”

“What are you saying? That village back there was so poor because of—” The revelation hit Dean like an arrow to the chest. “That’s why the people here are all so happy to see me. If I’m the prince, it means they don’t have to go hungry anymore.”

“It’s one of the reasons the people are happy to see you. But yes, in those villages, surely the greatest reason. Now all our ships will bring back food each year instead of just half of them.”

Dean’s hands went to his head. Suddenly, nothing on the island was what it seemed. He couldn’t believe it, and he couldn’t very well ask Waverly to run away with him now. “Why didn’t anyone tell me it was like this out here? All I’ve seen is the riches of the palace. When I think of the feast I just left … How does something like that go on when people are starving?”

“Tonight was special just for you,” Waverly explained. “We have not had cause to celebrate like that in some time, nor the means to do so to such excess. But it’s going to be different now that you’re back. I wanted to tell you about the villages earlier, but I couldn’t. It was my father’s decision. He feared you might blame yourself for the hardships your people have endured in your absence.” Waverly put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I can see now he was right, but you have to know it’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong. The pirates are the ones to blame here, not you.”

Dean pulled himself back, away from Waverly’s hand. “This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have come here.”

“Dean, wait,” Waverly pleaded. “Talk to me. You said you have something to ask me.”

“I can’t. I have to get back to the palace. Now.”

“No one blames you for what happened. No one.”

“Maybe not,” Dean said, already heading back to the road.

But the week’s not over yet.

CHAPTER
29

T
he sun was coming up by the time Dean returned to the royal apartments. He found Ronan pacing the floor, looking like a volcano whose eruption was imminent. Dean drifted into the room and shut the door. He slumped down in a chair and said nothing. His lack of any explanation pushed Ronan past his boiling point. He shook his fist, eager to punch something or, more accurately, someone. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU LAST NIGHT?” he exploded on Dean.

Dean stiffened his face, ready to take his medicine if it came to that. He didn’t know where to begin.