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  “Destari!” Halias exclaimed in unmistakable relief when he saw us in the company of his fellow deputy captain. He approached, his relief instantly suffused with an unusual display of temper. “Where did you find them?” he growled, glaring at Miranna, Semari and me.

  “In the prisoner’s room,” Destari fumed, his black hair and heavy brows making him especially formidable. “They took it upon themselves to meet him.”

  Halias gave Miranna a look that would have made me tremble, but which she met with a sheepish grin, peering up at him through lowered lashes.

  At last realizing what we had done, Tadark gasped, then glared at me in an attempt to match Halias’s look of disapproval, but it did not have nearly the same effect. I smiled at him, and he widened his light brown eyes as if to intensify his glower, but with his boyish face, he only succeeded in making himself look all the more ridiculous.

  Halias continued to hold Miranna in his fierce gaze while he briefed Destari on the details of our grand scheme.

  “Bhadran and the Queen are in the library, waiting for us to return,” he finished.

  “Then we should go to them at once.” Destari’s statement left no room for argument.

  Halias moved to Miranna’s side, and Tadark to mine, and we descended the stairway to proceed toward the library, Destari following with Narian. I was glad that, after my mother and father, it was Tadark to whom I would have to answer and not London. I didn’t even want to consider what London’s reaction to our behavior would have been.

  We arrived in the library far too quickly for my liking. The Queen and the Royal Physician rose from armchairs by the window the moment we entered, but did not speak. My mother was shaking her head at Miranna and me in disapproval, and I could not meet her gaze for shame.

  Destari remained by the door, not relinquishing his grip on Narian’s shoulder, and motioned for Halias to join him. The two guards had a hushed exchange, and several times Halias glanced from Narian to Semari, who was standing beside me, examining the floor. When they had finished, Halias seized Narian by the upper arm and guided him toward the window seat. He dragged an armchair several feet away from where my mother and the doctor stood, then pushed the young man into it.

  “Sit,” he commanded.

  After Destari had departed to find Cannan, my mother walked over to where Semari, Miranna and I were clustered in the middle of the rug. Although she was fully composed, I dreaded what she would say.

  “Miranna, tell me that you did not fake this entire thing,” she said, referring to my sister’s seizure.

  Miranna hung her head, her coppery-blond hair falling forward like a veil.

  “I’m sorry, Mother, but I cannot tell you that,” she confessed.

  “I don’t understand the three of you,” my mother continued, although she did not raise her voice. “What could possibly have possessed you?”

  “We only wanted to see what he was like,” Miranna replied, her face still obscured by her hair.

  “We…weren’t really thinking at all,” I conceded, hoping my mother, who had recently told me of her own irrepressible girlhood curiosity, might sympathize with us.

  “You’re right. You didn’t think this through at all.” Her voice was devoid of its usual lyrical quality, and her blue eyes sparked in a rare display of anger. “We know nothing about this boy! You marched into his room without a single guard to protect you. Do you not see how reckless you were?”

  “He’s our age, Mother!” Miranna protested. “What could he have done?”

  “Foolish child!” she admonished, sounding incredibly formidable while keeping her voice low so that no one could hear except us three. “If he were a Hytanican boy, he would be in his third year at the Military Academy! We do not know how they train their soldiers in Cokyri, but if he had intended to do you harm, I believe he could have done so. You haven’t the faintest idea with whom you are dealing. He is Cokyrian! None of you were alive during the war, but perhaps if you had been you would comprehend how rashly you acted today. If you had seen the death, the misery—if you had lost your entire family to those cold-blooded creatures in the manner I did when I was your age, then maybe you would have thought twice before entering that room.”

  Semari, Miranna and I stood still as death, barely daring to breathe, my mother’s lecture somehow more painful than a physical form of punishment would have been.

  “Your behavior calls for apologies to your bodyguards,” she finished primly. “And I would strongly suggest that you go to the chapel to seek forgiveness and say a prayer for better judgment in the future.”

  She turned from us and approached the physician to tell him he had been called unnecessarily. After hearing her account, Bhadran bowed and took his leave, shaking his graying head on his way past us. My mother reseated herself, and we moved to stand beside her, heads bowed in penitence. Time passed in strained silence until Narian spoke, and I became aware for the first time that he had a subtle accent.

  “Why did you address me in that way before? Who is Kyenn?”

  Semari tore her eyes away from her hands and stared at him, hope illuminating her face, which was so uncannily similar to his own. I could draw no other conclusion than the one I knew was spinning in the minds of everyone around me. Semari opened her mouth to reply, but Halias stopped her.

  “Don’t say anything, Semari. There will be no conversing with the prisoner until the captain arrives.”

  As if on cue, the library door swung open and Cannan strode in, followed closely by Destari, the imposing bearing of the two men casting a greater pall over the room. All attention shifted to the Captain of the Guard, but he said nothing. Instead, he stood in the center of the rug, first studying Semari, then shifting his eyes to Narian, then back to Semari, and again to Narian, his expression ponderous.

  Destari, who had stepped up beside him, gravely asked, “What do you make of this, sir?”

  “There is a clear likeness between them,” Cannan allowed.

  “Can it be?” Halias echoed, momentarily too distracted to use proper military protocol. Then he added, “Captain?”

  “I cannot think of another explanation. The King must be notified.”

  CHAPTER 11

  BACK FROM THE DEAD

  RUMORS QUICKLY CIRCULATED IN THE PALACE about our escapade, stirring up speculations that became my only source of information. My father was furious with both Miranna and me, but he was preoccupied with settling the issue of the Cokyrian boy’s possible identity and had not yet taken the time to discipline us. I was grateful for this small mercy.

  The day after we had executed our plan, Semari had returned to the palace with her parents. Neither Miranna nor I had been in attendance when they had met with Cannan and my father, and I had not since then been able to discover exactly what had transpired.

  Miranna longed to speak with Semari once more, but she was afraid to ask Father’s permission to pay her friend a visit, lest she remind him that he had not yet dealt with us. I also wanted to know what had been determined about Narian, but the only people from whom I could receive accurate information were in the military, and none among them would be willing to enlighten me.

  My thirst for knowledge was likewise not to be quenched by my father, who finally broke away from his duties to deal with his errant daughters. He came to my quarters during the early hours of the morning, before undertaking his duties as King.

  Tadark had reported to his post and was waiting in the corridor to learn of my schedule for the day. He rapped upon my door and opened it to announce the King, who entered looking unusually grim. I had just emerged from my bedroom and was sitting upon the sofa, brushing my dark brown hair. The humid morning air already had a stifling quality, which I felt even more keenly upon my father’s arrival. I put down the brush and stood, but with his hand he bade me to sit.

  “Your actions of this past week have greatly disappointed me, Alera,” he said with little emotion. “I have lost much confidence in you
r decision making.”

  “I know, Father,” I said, not dropping my head as I had done with my mother, but meeting his gaze remorsefully. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m afraid ‘sorry’ simply isn’t good enough this time. You endangered not only yourself but also your sister and her best friend. You made a very foolish choice, and I am not certain I can trust you to act less rashly in the future.

  “What am I to do, Alera? You are seventeen years old, and yet you continue to play these childish games! You are to be Queen in less than a year. Given your age and upbringing, I should not have to be telling you to behave more sensibly.”

  It was my misfortune that my father was eager to abdicate the throne. Had he been happier in his role as King, I sensed I might not be forced to sit in wretched silence as his extensive criticism rained down upon me.

  “Who is to govern beside such an unpromising queen? Would she enable her husband to rule the kingdom with a steady hand or distract him with her silly ploys?”

  He looked at me as though daring me to respond, but I knew there was nothing I could say. My throat had constricted, and I was incapable of thinking about anything other than my own incompetence, which my father had brought painfully into the open.

  “A suitor must be chosen, Alera,” he continued, beginning to pace in front of me, his brow dampened with sweat. “You know who I want to succeed me. If another young man of quality does not soon present himself, then you will marry Lord Steldor, under my last order as King of Hytanica.”

  “But I cannot marry Steldor,” I gasped, my brain finally jarred into action.

  “Then perhaps you have another suitor in mind?”

  My father stopped and turned toward me, his tone telling me he thought it unlikely he would approve of anyone of my choosing.

  “There is no one else, Father,” I murmured, vague echoes of a previous conversation rebounding in my head.

  “As I expected,” he said unpleasantly, and my sense of ineptitude became overwhelming. “I have taken the liberty of inviting Steldor to accompany you on a picnic outside the city walls. I have given him my permission to court you, and I insist that you honestly evaluate him in terms of his qualities and not based merely on your whims.”

  My father swung around to go, but I hastily stood to call him back.

  “Wait! Miranna would also enjoy such an outing. I pray you to permit her to come with us.”

  My father did not appear to be in a mood to compromise, but I was compelled to plead my case by the thought of how stressful such an outing would be.

  “A young man could be chosen to accompany her. The arrangement would place less pressure upon Steldor and me. And it would help me to be at ease in his company.”

  My father thought for a moment, and as usual, began to toy with his ring.

  “Amidst all your terrible ideas, there is occasionally one of value. I will inform Miranna that she will be joining you and Steldor on your outing ten days hence.”

  He left the room without another word, and I sank down on the sofa, the morning heat and my misery depleting my energy. After many minutes, it dawned on me that my father might have paid a visit to Miranna, too. Even if he had not, my sister was someone who would empathize with my feelings.

  Leaving my parlor, I hastened down the hallway toward Miranna’s quarters, which also consisted of a trio of rooms, although she did not have a balcony as I did. Her parlor was similar to mine, with tapestries decorating the walls, rugs padding the floor and a sofa and several armchairs to provide seating. The primary difference was in color, as she favored blues while I preferred rich shades of red.

  Halias knocked on Miranna’s parlor door, then opened it to grant me entry. My sister was sitting in an armchair doing some handwork, but stood to usher me into her bedroom when she took in my gloomy countenance.

  Unlike the parlor, her bedroom sharply contrasted mine, for hers was decorated more playfully, with a lacy spread and pale blue velvet draperies. The walls were not hung with tapestries but with silks in softest hues of blue, yellow, green and pink. Ribbons in the same colors hung in streams from the four posts of her bed and decorated the edges of its canopy. A large number of lovingly kept dolls sat atop her bookshelf and dressing table.

  She plopped down on her bed and motioned for me to do the same.

  “Is it Father?”

  “Of course.” I sank glumly onto the bed beside her.

  “He spoke with me this morning about the need for me to act more prudently and to set a good example,” she said, hugging a pillow to her chest. “It wasn’t a pleasant conversation, but he at least didn’t strike me. How did he treat you?”

  “He didn’t hit me either, although that might have been easier to bear. No, he lectured me on my shortcomings as a daughter.” I hesitated, then gushed, “He told me he fears I will be an incompetent queen. He said that I am too old to be playing childish games and that he can no longer trust my judgment.”

  My eyes welled with tears, though I was determined not to let them fall, for that would have somehow been an admission that his assessment was correct.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Miranna said, shifting to take my hands in hers. “You will be an exceptional queen. He should not base his opinion on this one incident.”

  “Father rules this kingdom, Mira. He, better than anyone, knows the qualities that are necessary in a queen.”

  “What we did was very unwise, but Father has overreacted. He has never before doubted your suitability to be crowned, and I’m sure in his heart he truly doesn’t now.”

  “He also said that unless I soon find another ‘man of quality’ to be my husband, he will order me to marry Steldor.”

  This Miranna had not expected. “Order you?”

  “Yes! What am I going to do? I cannot marry Steldor!” I pulled my hands from hers in agitation, then plucked at the lace on her bedspread.

  “That doesn’t sound like Father,” she said, dismayed. She regarded me sympathetically for a moment. “He is just…under a lot of stress right now. I’m certain in time he will rethink his position…and regain his sense of humor.”

  Her attempt to reassure me fell short, for her tone was not convincing.

  “And if he doesn’t? Then what am I to do? I had hoped to marry for love—an intelligent and compassionate man—someone with the potential to become the greatest King in Hytanican history! How much time will Father give me before he forces me to marry the man I detest?”

  “Calm down, Alera! While I don’t share your opinion of Steldor, I do agree that you should marry for love. Just give Father some time and he will come around.”

  We sat in abject silence for a few minutes, and then she scrambled to her feet.

  “A change of scenery would do us both some good. Why don’t we go out for a while? Leave the palace and our troubles behind?”

  “A change couldn’t hurt,” I agreed.

  She twisted a strand of her hair over and over with her left hand as she reviewed our options, finally flashing me a smile.

  “I think today is market day—let’s get some fresh air and take in the sights.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “And we can scout for alternative suitors!”

  I couldn’t keep from smiling at her suggestion, although I did not see my predicament as the least bit comical.

  Two hours later, Tadark and Halias followed us out of the palace, through the Central Courtyard and into the city. We proceeded for a short while down the wide main thoroughfare that cut the city in half, eventually turning west into the Market District. Here, shop fronts opened onto narrow streets, with similar types of businesses clustered together. We strolled along, perusing the offerings of the bakers, the spice grocers, the apothecaries and the jewelers. Their wares were displayed on counters that doubled as the shutters that closed the storefronts at the end of the day. The top halves of the shutters were propped up to provide the merchandise with some protection from the elements. Do
wn one of the many side streets we could see the signboards for the shoemakers, saddle and harness makers and tanners. Down another were the fish merchants, butchers and chandlers.

  As we came to the last of the shops, the cobblestone street opened into a large grassy area atop a hill that sloped down into the training field just south of Hytanica’s Military Complex. Here, temporary tents and stalls had been erected to accommodate the various vendors who had brought items for sale or trade.

  Market day was held once a week and attracted a teeming crowd. In addition to farm products, the craftsmen from the villages surrounding the walled city would come to sell their handmade goods. Traveling merchants would also offer wares for sale, resulting in an ever-changing selection. Furniture, tools, furs, glassware, exotic spices, rare oils and perfumes, pots and pans, laces and unusual fabrics were all part of the hodgepodge that was market day.

  Miranna and I were wearing simple frocks, for Cannan had long ago decreed that we should dress in the style of villagers when we visited the market. The captain was a cautious man, and did not want the manner of our dress to announce who we were. Of course, no disguise in the world would have worked when our uniformed bodyguards were conspicuously present, so Tadark and Halias were clad more plainly as well. To my great relief, and Tadark’s chagrin, the deputy captain was also willing to give us a bit more freedom to roam and was refusing to permit the lieutenant to hang off my elbow.

  We joined the throng of people surrounding the tents and stalls and were bombarded by the sounds of vendors hawking their wares, customers arguing and negotiating, little children playing and animals complaining in their various ways. My spirits lifted as I absorbed the energy that hung in the air in this fascinating place.

  “Oh, look over there!” Miranna said, touching my arm and pointing over the heads of the milling crowd to a young man in his mid-twenties who stood beside one of the many vegetable stands.