My father had cursed Lagonia often enough, jealous and bemoaning that it was better equipped to survive the eclipse than Relhok City. Unfair, he insisted, that they should withstand the dwellers better than the rest of the world.
“Fowler.” I turned at the sound of my name and found Luna, mud-encrusted, her hair sticking out all round her head in stiff clumps, sitting before the prince, her hands anxiously worrying the horse’s mane of hair. For a moment she blurred and I was staring at three of her. Blinking several times, I brought her back into focus. She looked so small, slender as a reed in front of the prince’s larger frame. All these people crowded into one space. The intense smells and sounds. For a girl who spent the majority of her life isolated in the tower, this had to be sensory overload.
Chasan was attired in a royal-blue tunic without a speck of dirt or mud on it. I doubted he’d ever been dirty. He’d probably never felt the pains of hunger in his belly either.
I knew that because that had been my life. Others had gone without food, but not me. I knew what it was like to exist levels above everyone else so desperately fighting for survival. I knew what it felt like to have your life valued more than others, your stomach full each day, every precaution taken to ensure your safety and comfort and to hell with everyone else. As far as my father was concerned, everyone else was dweller bait.
Like Bethan.
The only difference between Prince Chasan and me was that I turned my back on that life and left it to find something else. Anything else. He was what I used to be.
Chasan stared at me, his expression blank, as my horse pranced over the cobbled rock littered with dung. His eyes, however, were bright and alive, an ice blue more ice than blue. He glanced at the back of Luna’s head before looking at me again, a faint smirk curling his lips. He knew. She was my weakness.
She stared in my general direction, looking a little lost. My chest clenched; I wondered how much longer she could keep from them that she was blind.
“I’m fine, Luna,” I managed to get out, the sound of my voice a dry crack. The effort to speak made my head pound harder, but I did it for her—so that she would feel some reassurance.
We rode deeper into the crowded courtyard. Soldiers and peasants stopped to stare. The distinction between the two groups was greatly visible even without the uniforms. The soldiers were cleaner, leaner, obviously well-fed, while the citizens of Ainswind looked like they could use a good meal or two—along with a bath. A stiff wind might break them.
The soldiers used staffs to push back the peasants and make room for the prince and the rest of us to pass. We rode down narrow lanes between buildings and pens of pigs and goats, hooves clacking over the rocky ground. Eyes watched us from ground level as well as every window and perch above.
I started to slide off the saddle, too weak to hang on, but the soldier behind me caught my arm and held me up. I hated such frailty in me, but there was nothing I could do. Sweat beaded my lip. It was hard to fathom a cure for this slow death. I had seen too many die from toxin before.
I had many regrets; the final and greatest, however, would be leaving Luna here among these strangers. If Chasan was like the me I used to be, then he couldn’t be good or trustworthy. In that same vein, if King Tebald was anything like my father, then she needed to forget about me and get far, far from here.
My head dropped back and I stared up the great, towering lengths of the buildings on either side of us. Heads and arms hung out the countless open windows and balconies, watching us speculatively as we advanced toward the castle. Hopefully, this place and these people would not destroy her. Hopefully, she could find one friend, one ally, in this sea of strangers.
We finally stopped before a long stretch of steps that led to a pair of massive doors. The ornate carved wood parted to reveal several figures. One robed man at the center drew my gaze. He descended the stone-polished steps at a leisurely pace, gold-trimmed robes of blue flashing at his ankles. Several other figures surrounded him, similarly garbed, but no one needed to tell me the man at the center was King Tebald. Even without the crown on his gray head, he held himself with an air of superiority, his chin lifted.
He floated down to the base of the steps and stopped. His retinue hung back several steps, careful not to step past him. He held his arms wide, his broad sleeves floating out at his sides like wings. “My son, I see you’ve returned with different quarry than what you set out to catch.”
“Indeed, Father. We happened upon Breslen and what was left of his party.”
Breslen dismounted and made an elaborate bow. King Tebald held out his hand and his man accepted it, pressing it to his bent brow.
“Breslen, I trust you have happy tidings to share with me from Relhok.”
“Indeed, Sire. Discussions went as we expected. The king did not produce his son. However, I now realize why.”
The king arched a thick eyebrow. “Pray, enlighten me.”