“In a time of war, an unloved and weak king and his sickly underage son may be deposed for the good of the kingdom, especially in favor of a bold military prince like Nikonos. But even Prince Nikonos may meet with an unfortunate accident on the battlefield if he has enemies on his own side. And a queen who bet on the wrong horse will find herself put out to pasture. Which leaves you and your sister next in line to become king and queen.”
His voice is so soft I barely catch the words and yet his tone rings harder than I have ever heard it. “Do you know what it means to be king in Efea?”
“The king must defend the country from its enemies and honor the gods in the proper way so their peace will shelter the land.”
“The king sits atop a mountain of treasure. All bow before him because his will is law. His army defends not the country but his power. That’s why I don’t wish to be a part of it. But I also don’t despise the army and its soldiers, Jes. I’m no coward, or at least I pray I will never act the coward’s part.”
Driven by secrets, he quickens his pace, and I hasten to keep up.
“Uncle Gar thinks I’m soft, that I don’t see the nature of his plans. He pretends to want what is best for me but I won’t be his pawn. I want to be an adversary who runs my own game.”
We turn at last onto Garon Street. I reach for his hand, and he clasps mine with more strength than I expected.
“I shouldn’t have involved you, Jes.”
“You know I’m not afraid.”
He has the strong hands of a climber, and when his grip tightens on my fingers, it crushes. “You should be afraid. They are monsters waiting to eat us.”
Above, the high heavens shade to a vibrant purple while the eastern horizon glows with pink and a band of light rims the world. Behind, the two men shadowing us have vanished. The guards at the stable gate see us. Kalliarkos tries to shake his hand out of mine but I hold on until their gazes drop down to our linked hands. They squelch smiles as they straighten to parade attention, offering a salute to the only male of princely descent who lives in Garon Palace. Farther up the street lie the upper gates: the monumental gate to the main palace compound, which is ablaze with so many lamps that the lights smear together, and beyond it the servants’ gate where Garon Street ends in a wall. The guards there have seen us too.
I release his hand as if we only now remember we ought to do so. He offers a pleasant smile and an agreeable nod to the startled guards at the stable gate. As they open the pedestrian door they mumble greetings—“My lord prince, a good wakening to you”—in the voices of men who have been allowed to greet him before and are still grateful that he acknowledges their existence. But oh how they struggle not to stare at me, for they are Patron-born men who serve Patron lords, and I am what I am in their eyes.
As I consider how to make the most dramatic farewell, he pulls me into the stable courtyard. At this early hour the kitchen girls have already begun stoking the clay oven, soaking millet and barley for porridge, and sweeping around the tables to make sure no brown scorpions or striped asps linger on the tile. The cook appears with her baskets and two assistants, ready to head down to the market to buy her perishables. Tana and Darios sit sipping at tea whose flavor is so strong I can smell the aniseed from here. Several other early risers are emerging from the barracks, yawning and rubbing their eyes.
“Make it convincing,” whispers Kalliarkos into my ear, the words as startling as the thunder of a hailstorm that drowns all hearing, all sense of the world outside the shell you live in.
I could kiss him just by inhaling but suddenly I can’t remember how to smile as a doting lover would. As my mother and father would smile at each other. As they never will again.
“I can’t believe you’re hesitating,” he whispers. His eyes crinkle. His mouth parts as he waits for me to act because he thinks it’s funny that I’m the one who is hesitating.
So I cup his face in my hands and I match him, look for look. “This isn’t hesitation. This is my challenge.”
I press my lips to his, and after all it is easy to forget everything else and just kiss him, because we are learning who we are, as if he and I will turn by turn unfold each other until we know everything that matters about our hearts.
A bark of command slaps down over us. We break apart, but it is not anyone speaking to us. The dawn changeover of guards has arrived. The gate stands wide open and, with the sun rising, all the guards have seen.
With a parting smile he walks out the gate, leaving me standing in full sight of every awake person in the stable. My pulse eases down from a hammering gallop into a mere trot. Without meaning to, I touch fingers to my lips.
