The Runaway King (6 page)

T
obias was deeply asleep and didn’t hear me enter his room late that night. I hadn’t poured him much of the cider, but he still got some of the sleeping powder I’d found in Conner’s office.

When I shook his arm, his eyes opened and he awoke with a start. I put a finger to my lips to warn him to be silent. Yet his voice was still too loud as he whispered, “Jaron? What’s going on?”

“I’m going to talk and you will listen. Agreed?”

He nodded stiffly. I sat in the chair near his desk while he rolled out of bed. I could almost hear his heart pounding from here. Or was it mine?

Despite our agreement, Tobias spoke first. “You’re still leaving? You told Mott you’d change your plans.”

“No, I told Mott I was too tired to think about changing plans,” I corrected him. “Big difference.”

“But Mott was right before. Nobody comes back from the pirates. Maybe you’ll kill Devlin, but how will you escape all the others?”

I grimaced with a pang of worry at that question. The truth was, I had no answer for him. All I knew was that my odds of succeeding were no better in Carthya. At least this way, I faced the pirates on my own terms.

“Just wait a few days and think this over,” he said.

“I don’t have a few days. If I can’t fix everything before the regents’ vote on the steward, I will be powerless to fix it afterward.”

“There’s not enough time.”

“Then stop wasting it. Now hush, I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?”

I removed the king’s ring from my finger and set it on the desk. I hadn’t taken it off since the night I was crowned and was surprised by the difference in weight of my hand. “I don’t want the regents to think I’m hiding — that only makes their vote against me that much easier. You and Mott must return to Drylliad in the morning.” I nodded toward a stack of my clothes on a chest in the room. “You will return as me. We look enough alike that with the ring and in the shadows of my carriage, you won’t have any trouble getting through the front gate. Be sure to arrive at night so that you can get to my quarters under the cover of darkness. Mott will help you avoid seeing anyone. Have him make up a story, that the king is ill or that the king is embarrassed and doesn’t want to see anybody. Tell anyone who asks that the king prefers to hide from the pirates in the comfort of his room.”

“Jaron, no,” Tobias whispered, shaking his head.

I continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “They might ask you a question at the gate. It’s a request for a password and the way for the vigil to verify that you’re Jaron. I changed the password myself this morning. The question will be what does the king want for dinner. The answer is that you know what the king wants and it has nothing to do with dinner.”

Tobias smiled, despite himself. “What does the king want, then?”

“He wants you to hush and pay attention. There’s a letter in the pocket of my clothes for Amarinda. Give it to her and answer any questions she may have, if you can. She’ll be angry, but I think she’ll help you maintain your cover.”

“Angry?” Tobias said. “She’ll be furious, and that’s if she believes us. What if she accuses us of trying to take over the kingdom?”

“The letter will explain things,” I said. “Amarinda is fully capable of making any necessary decisions, so all you need to do is remain in my apartments. I’ve spent so much time alone since I became king, nobody will question that.”

“Is that why —”

I sighed. “Don’t attempt to understand me, Tobias. I can’t even do that. Now, what do you suppose happened to our old clothes from when we were here?”

I already knew the answer to that. The nicer ones had been stolen away by the servants who had worked here. But my old clothes from when I was brought here as Sage were still in the drawer of my old wardrobe. Nobody wanted them.

I peeled off my royal clothing and tossed it onto the trunk, then put on Sage’s clothes: the worn trousers that had been too long on me when I first got them and were bordering on too small now; the shirt that one of Conner’s servants had mended, and even so, was riddled with several small tears; and my old boots that still fit fine, due to the fact that I’d only recently stolen them before Conner had taken me from the orphanage. They had a hole in the right toe, but that only bothered me during rainstorms.

It was as if everything about Sage returned to me once I stood again in his clothing. The instinct to trick when I could and lie when I must. The feeling that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be anything better than a sewer rat.

“I can’t do this,” Tobias said as I finished dressing.

“If you fail, then I will fail. Tobias, you must do this. Mott will want to follow me, but you can’t allow that. If he does, he’ll expose me, and then I really will be in danger.”

Slowly he nodded. “After you leave, if I don’t go running to Mott and tell him what’s happened, he’ll kill me. Literally.”

“There’s a solution to that, but you won’t like it.” I smiled, then reached for the sheet on Tobias’s bed. I ripped the fabric down its length and told him to put his arms behind his back. “I’ve got to make this tight. Mott will be suspicious if I don’t.”

“It’s all right,” Tobias said, holding out his arms. “Odd that I should be thanking you for this.”

I tied him to the bed, then gagged him, although I left that a little loose so his breathing wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

“Do not fail,” I said to Tobias when the knots were finished. “We will see each other again.”

Moments later I slipped quietly out of Farthenwood, and from the stables chose Mystic, one of the faster horses. Other than a white star on his forehead, Mystic was as black as tar and more loyal to his rider than any courser I’d ever before ridden. He was also well groomed, so anyone who saw him would assume I’d stolen the horse, which in a way, I had. When he was saddled, I climbed astride and in minutes had left Farthenwood behind.

At least for the rest of this night, I was free.

Riding alone through the Carthyan countryside was like emerging from a deep pool of water. Each breath brought me more alive, as I absorbed every moment of freedom I could. The cool wind caressed my face and greeted me with every change in the landscape on my journey. Even at night, Carthya was a beautiful place. Our trees grew firm and tall, while the winding rivers and streams kept our fields green and our farms fertile. It was no mystery why the countries on our borders looked to us with such greedy eyes.

Still, for all the happiness I felt, this was not a pleasure ride. Although I had a full moon to guide me, I also had to watch for irregularities on the road. I couldn’t afford an injury to Mystic, not here. And there was always the danger of thieves hiding in camps near wooded areas. Nobody would expect a traveler this late at night, which gave me an advantage. Then again, I wouldn’t know when to expect them, either. I wasn’t afraid, but I definitely was cautious. The last thing I needed was a distraction.

So I pushed Mystic as hard as he’d bear. Only four hours remained before dawn would creep over the horizon. I needed the cover of night to pass across the border into Avenia. My chances of making it in time were good. Mystic was both a fast and sturdy horse, and we traveled light. I only carried a sword strapped to my side, a knife at my waist, and a knapsack with some spare provisions and several handfuls of garlins I had taken with me from the castle treasury.

The stars gradually rotated in the sky as my distance from Farthenwood increased. I wondered how long Mott would sleep. Probably late into the morning. He’d feel the effects of the sleeping powder and instantly know he’d been tricked. Since I became king, no one had dared curse me to my face, but he’d undoubtedly use every word in the devil’s vocabulary tomorrow when he checked my room and found it empty. Then he’d find Tobias. I hoped Tobias would be able to persuade Mott to do what I’d asked. No, it was more than just hope. I
needed
Mott to obey me.

I was less than an hour from the border when I first heard the signs of trouble. The frenzied voices of men yelling and a woman screaming. Horses in random movement. The unsteady flicker of a torch in the distance. I withdrew my sword and turned Mystic in their direction.

The screaming stopped abruptly, and all the voices quieted for a moment, then a man cried, “There’s one more!”

I was close enough by then to have a good idea of what was going on. There were several men, all with Avenian accents, and they were armed. One man saw me coming and left the group to charge for me. I easily blocked his sword with my own, then sliced deeply into his arm. With a scream he shrank into the shadows.

The other men seemed unsure of what to do, maybe from the surprise at being caught, or perhaps because I had bested the first man so quickly. However, there was no hesitation from me. I galloped forward and caught another man in the back with my blade.

That prompted a confusion of orders from the other horsemen, though they all seemed to agree that I could not be allowed to escape. It was their foolish miscalculation to think escape was anywhere in my plans. They rounded on me, which should have forced me back into the dense brush. Instead, I rode forward, aiming for the man holding the torch since he only had one hand to fight with. He had a jagged scar running down the side of his face and somehow became even uglier as I rode closer. He got in one good swipe at me, but I ignored the sting across my stomach and turned Mystic back at him. I hammered my sword down hard onto his, and both it and the torch fell into the dirt. I thrust at him again, not sure exactly where it landed, but the wound went deep. Another man rode up beside me and clashed his horse into Mystic, but Mystic was a far more powerful animal and the man’s horse stumbled. I swerved around and made a slice at his leg, and with a yelp he backed away from me, following his companions as they fled into the darkness.

A branch cracked behind me and I turned, sword ready. Silence filled the air again, but I wasn’t alone. I dismounted and led Mystic by the reins toward the bush. Then, in a sudden move, I dropped the reins, reached through the leaves, and yanked whoever was back there up to my blade.

“Please don’t hurt me!”

I stepped back, surprised. It was just a child, a young girl who couldn’t have been older than six or seven. She stood nearly to my chest with light blond hair that fell halfway down her back. She wore a plain cotton nightdress and had bare feet; she probably had been rushed from her bed in an attempt to escape.

I immediately lowered my sword and crouched down to her. “It’s all right; you’re safe now. But what are you doing out here?” It was too dark to know for certain, but she didn’t appear to be injured. “Are you all right?”

She took my hand and led me a little farther away to the base of a tall elm tree. A woman who must have been the girl’s mother was lying on the ground there. Her breathing was so shallow and forced I knew she had to be injured. She must have been the woman whose screams brought me this way.

I knelt beside her and felt near her abdomen for any sign of a wound. When she sensed my presence, she opened her eyes and touched my arm. “Don’t bother,” she whispered. “It’s too much.” Her accent was Carthyan. She was one of my own people.

“Who did this?” I asked.

She closed her eyes for some time and I thought perhaps she wouldn’t answer. Then she opened them and mumbled, “You can’t be from this area and not know what happens here.”

“I’m not.”

She nodded. “Avenian thieves. They cross our borders at night to steal our cattle or frighten us from our homes.”

I shook my head. “Why doesn’t anyone in Drylliad know this? The king —”

“Eckbert’s dead. Haven’t you heard? Besides, he knew for months that this was happening.” She arched her back and gasped. I put my hand beneath her to help support her weight and felt the warmth of her blood. There was so much. Too much to survive. Her breathing was becoming more labored. “My husband . . . they killed him. Nila . . . take her to her grandfather’s . . . Libeth.”

Nila placed her small hand on my shoulder. Libeth was north of here and would set me back several hours. Besides that, I had planned to avoid all towns. There was too great a chance of someone recognizing me, or of leaving a trail in case Mott decided to follow me.

Nila’s mother rose again and used my arm to hold herself up. “Please,” she whispered.

“I’ll get her there, I promise.” Even if it meant going backward for me. As if my words gave her release, she finally relaxed, closed her eyes, and was gone.

Nila knelt beside me and touched her mother’s shoulder. “Is she dead?”

I nodded as a new anger surged inside me. Had my father known this was happening? Had Gregor, or Kerwyn? Why had no one told me about this?

“There’s a lilac bush near where I left my horse,” I told Nila. “Pick as many as you can for your mother.”

Without expression, Nila stood and walked back to Mystic while I dug with my hands and knife into the soft springtime earth for a grave. It took well over an hour to bury Nila’s mother, and after the flowers were laid on her grave, I put Nila behind me on Mystic and we headed for Libeth.

People were already awake and working in their fields when we reached the outskirts of the town. Libeth was a sleepy place that was protected from Avenia by marshlands that neither country particularly cared to claim. I’d never been anywhere near here before, but I liked the town.

Nila didn’t know where her grandfather lived, only that he had a big farm and that people paid him from their crops. I had audibly groaned when she told me. It meant he was probably a noble. One of the useless snobs I detested.

I wondered if he had been in attendance at my family’s funeral. If so, perhaps he was still in Drylliad. I wasn’t sure whether to hope for that or not. Because if he’d already returned to Libeth from the funeral, he was sure to recognize me. But if he was still in Drylliad, what was I supposed to do with Nila?

A couple of hours earlier, Nila had finally begun acting sleepy, so I put her in front of me where I could prop her with my arms. Now as we entered the small town square, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I remember this place,” she mumbled.

“Do you know where your grandfather lives?”

“No.”

We stopped near a stall where a woman had a variety of meats on display. I glanced at a roast and couldn’t help but think of the time I had tried to steal one and nearly gotten myself killed by the butcher. It hadn’t been my best idea ever. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been my worst either.

“I am looking for this girl’s grandfather,” I said to the woman in the stall. “I think he’s a —”

“Nila?” The woman ran from behind her stall and held out her hands for the girl, who fell into her arms. “What are you doing here?” Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, covered in dirt and dried blood. “What happened?”

“Do you know her grandfather?” I asked.

The woman nodded and pointed to a home that was high up on a hill at the far end of town. “Master Rulon Harlowe is her grandfather.”

I slid off Mystic and held out my hand as an invitation for her to ride with Nila. “Will you take me there?”

Someone I hadn’t noticed took the woman’s place in the stall. Then with my help she lifted Nila back into the saddle and climbed up behind her.

I tried to get information from the woman as we walked, but she shushed me and gave her attention to Nila. So I listened as Nila described what had happened to her family. From what Nila said and the woman’s questions, I gathered that several younger families from Libeth had gone into the countryside to try to build their own farms, away from any nobles who might tax their lands. As their farms began to prosper, Avenians had started raiding. At first it was for simple thievery, of crops or cattle. When the farmers began fighting back, the raids turned violent. Things had quieted over the winter but with the melting snow the raids returned. Nila had seen her father shot by arrows while her mother raced her away. Her mother had been cut with a sword shortly before I arrived last night. It seemed that Nila had seen far too much death for someone her age.

“Do you know if King Eckbert knew about these troubles?” I asked.

The woman scoffed. “What did the king ever do for us? Master Harlowe was denied a meeting with him, but spoke to one of his regents.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter? The master was told that we needed to keep the peace with Avenia, and the farmers would just have to leave and move farther inland.”

I shook my head, hoping that what was happening here had never reached my father’s ears. Because if he knew and did nothing — no, I couldn’t think of that. The more I learned of my father’s reign, the less I felt that I had ever known him.