Breslen cast me a quick glance, anxious energy buzzing about him. “He did not have him, Sire.”
The king digested this, puffing out his great barrel chest, his lips working as though he tasted something foul. “He’s dead. Just as I expected. All these years of silence, of Cullan’s evasions—”
“Not dead, Sire,” Breslen dared to interrupt. “Simply gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, and fortune shone on us. I have found him, Your Highness.”
Those great bushy eyebrows lifted. “You’ve found him?”
“Yes, and I’ve brought him to you.” Breslen turned sideways and gestured to me with a wide sweep of his arm.
Tebald’s gaze followed. He scowled. “Him? The boy? There doesn’t look like there’s much to him.” His lip curled faintly as he surveyed me. “He barely looks alive.”
Hard hands helped me down from my saddle unceremoniously. My knees gave out and I buckled to earth, proof of the king’s low estimation. I didn’t stay prone for long before each of my arms was grabbed and I was dragged before the king. They released me and I dropped, head bowed. I struggled to lift the weight of my head and meet the king’s gaze.
He stared down at me, still with that faintly curling lip. “This is the crown prince of Relhok?” He flicked beringed fingers in the air over me.
“Sire, I’ve visited Relhok City several times, as you know. I’ve dined with him. Spoken with him. I watched him demonstrate his great prowess with a bow and arrow.” Breslen stabbed a finger in my direction. “This boy is the prince of Relhok.”
His declaration carried far, and gasps and titters broke out from the crowd assembling around the castle. I understood their disbelief. From what I observed, Lagonian peasants looked better off than I was, and yet I was supposed to be royalty.
King Tebald stared at me unflinchingly. I inhaled labored breaths, trying to keep myself upright and not disgrace myself by collapsing again. My head and shoulders slumped, the weight unbearable, but I didn’t look away from his eyes. It was one lesson my father had taught me that I held close—always hold a man’s gaze.
“Is this true?” he finally asked me. “You’re the prince of Relhok?” There was a beat of silence, and then he added my name. “Fowler?” Impatience hummed off him. He was tidy and well-groomed, his gray hair and beard close-cropped. “Well? Answer me.”
My breath came in violent spurts. I moistened my dry and cracked lips, reaching for my voice, but the words were buried just out of my reach. My head spun. Faces whirled in a kaleidoscope. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I fell, toppling over and rolling to my back.
My last sight was the gabled peaks of Tebald’s castle etched against the chalk sky.
NINE
Luna
“FOWLER!” I CRIED out, recognizing the sound of him collapsing. Without waiting for assistance, I dismounted, sliding quickly to the ground and rushing to where he had crumpled into a pile.
My hands landed on him, gingerly assessing, trying to determine if he still lived. His chest lifted with the barest rise of air. My shoulders sagged with relief and my head dropped as I took a moment to find my composure. This was all on me.
I lifted my head and swung my sightless gaze around at all the people I sensed watching. “Help,” I said in a surprisingly commanding voice. No one moved. “Help him!” I shouted, louder and with more force.
“Who is this?” a voice rang out with total authority.
“Your Highness, this is the prince’s companion. She was attending him most diligently when I found them.”
The king shifted his weight from his perch several steps above me. I heard him sniff as though catching my scent. He coughed slightly and cleared his throat, evidently finding it unpleasant. I would suspect as much. After days of traveling, sleeping on Digger’s musky pelt, and diving underground to wade through the dwellers’ tangled labyrinth, I probably smelled like a latrine. Not that the courtyard of this city smelled much better.
“Is this true? Come closer, girl.”
I shook my head and continued to touch Fowler, needing to assure myself he was still with me. I brushed my palms over his burning-hot face and barely moving chest.
There was a slight snapping of fingers and I was hauled to my feet. Rough hands dragged me up the few steps. A relentless grip at the back of my neck forced me down on my knees. My forehead struck a stone-polished step with an unforgiving whack. Gray spots flashed across the darkness of my mind. Pain radiated throughout me.
“Bow before the king and answer when spoken to,” a harsh voice rasped in my ear, a voice that didn’t belong to any man in our group. After three days, I knew everyone’s voice distinctly. Also, Breslen and the others had never been so harsh with me. Even the prince himself had not been this savage. This hand at my neck, this voice in my ear . . . he enjoyed brutality.