The Path Now Turned Page 4

  In the royal box, the women stood in adulation. Her impulsive sister rushed to the railing, waving a silver scarf. Amicia followed Sareta with her own golden scarf.

  Cono rose and walked solemnly over to the royal box. Sareta smiled broadly, but it was Amicia who caught Kela’s attention.

  In silence, Kela watched Cono accept both Amicia and Sareta’s scarves. Amicia glowed as Cono bowed his head to her. He must have said something, for Amicia blushed prettily.

  When Cono withdrew, Kela stared in disbelief as Sareta grabbed Amicia’s hand and squeezed it excitedly. Kela’s attention turned from her warrior to Amicia, whose eyes fixated on the hero of the day. Sareta leaned into Amicia, giggling in a fashion, turning to another nearby, saying something that made all laugh.

  Amicia’s eyes drifted back to Cono, but Kela’s lay upon her.

  Her cousin’s face betrayed her feelings.

  The whole of Kela’s being stiffened.

  “Jealousy will get you nowhere,” Silas said from behind her. “All of Scarladin is in love with your warrior, men and women both.”

  “They call for Amicia.”

  Silas said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he whispered, “You know nothing, Kela. Why do you believe they do so?”

  Kela pondered his question. King Edulf was the ready answer. Silas was telling her that the king fed the crowd.

  Was it a diversion from her appearance this day? Or was it a threat? Was the king threatening her that he would attach Cono to Amicia if she caused trouble?

  In truth, though, either infuriated her.

  “Let us go.”

  Slowly, Kela faced Silas. Within her, Daigh’s words echoed. This is your destiny. Your future. You are in control of your fate. Do not let others decide for you.

  “Not today,” Kela said. “I came with you only to quieten Cono. Now, it seems he has once more found favor with the king.”

  “Kela, don’t,” Silas stated in a low, firm voice. His eyes darkened with his own brewing temper. He grabbed hold of her arm. “You can’t.”

  “I can.” She raised her other hand. “Release me.”

  Knowing the power he faced, Silas did as she requested. He took a step back. “You are making a mistake.”

  For a moment, she considered the consequences. The day had begun with such promise. She remembered the joy she had felt when she had first arrived in Yucca.

  She wasn’t ready to go back to her prison.

  Wordlessly, she turned and walked away.

  A Breath of Freedom

  Hurriedly, Kela walked toward the market square, but she was under no illusion. Guards were following her. She was also certain that Silas had flown to the king.

  In time, she would be found.

  It would not be now.

  She rushed down an alley into the crowded market on Vinir and hid behind a merchant’s stall. Gazing down at her flowing gown, she realized she wasn’t a Euchoun at the moment, only a girl on the run.

  Instantly, her beautiful gown disappeared, leaving her in an old, ragged brown surcoat with a faded white tunic underneath. Her feet were bare, her hair unbound. Gone was the beautiful siren.

  She looked as she was—a poor lost soul.

  Yet, she was free. If she was to be sent back or worse, she would do so after she experienced the rest of this day.

  * * * *

  Kela eased back into the open market. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Sordarin warriors scurried around the center, demanding if any had seen a lady unattended. None took note of her.

  No longer the hunted, Kela calmed. She strode briskly through the busy street until she was lost in the crowd.

  Her nervousness was lost in the wonderment of the festivities. She became as a child, unable to contain her amazement.

  The throngs buzzed about the Arachnidan attack, whispering about the Euchoun, bragging on the bravery of the Wings…of Cono. She cared not about the talk.

  Enthralled with her surroundings, Kela watched a mummer on stilts stride down the street with a group of young boys crying after him. Aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air. The merchants’ stalls held treasures: glazed pottery, twined baskets, candlesticks, stained glass, blooming flowers…

  She paused at the merchant stall that sold exquisite silk. Her interest held on the lovely scarves. Unable to contain herself, she ran her hand over a golden scarf with a hawk embroider at the end, soft and delicate to the touch.

  “Put it down!” a gruff man yelled loudly. He rushed around the stand, yanking it out of her hand. “Don’t touch if you aren’t buying!”

  Startled at the merchant’s intensity, she murmured, “I meant no harm.”

  “Be gone!”

  Kela took a step back. She could not argue. She had nothing in her pockets. Money had never been a necessity to her. I will have to settle upon looking…oh, to have the scarf or perchance a choklader…

  “Do not talk to the lady in that manner. Here. Take this and allow the lady to choose a scarf.”

  The merchant caught a coin. All smiles and bows, he gestured to tell Kela to take whatever she wanted. He stepped back to allow her access to all his wares.

  She hesitated.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her benefactor. Her heart fluttered, recognizing him readily enough—the prince of Brixtone.

  He wore a rich deep-blue coat with a silver lion sigil adorning his collar. The clean-shaven, fair-haired, green-eyed prince had changed little over the years. He was strikingly handsome.

  She lowered her gaze in hopes he wouldn’t know who she was. How could he?

  The prince smiled, a brilliant white smile. “Come, Lady Kela, accept this simple scarf as a nameday gift.”

  Looking up, she met his eyes. Gone was any doubt he knew her identity. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise.

  “How do you know it is my nameday?”

  He gave her a gentle, happy laugh as he laid the scarf about her neck. His eyes gleamed as if he had found a treasure. “Today is not for questions, but to enjoy. Are you not here to celebrate your brother’s wedding?”

  Kela frowned. His appearance was quite unsettling, but dangerous as well.

  “Come.” He extended his arm. “I was about to explore the festivities.”

  “I cannot…”

  “Of course you can,” he said. “You have gone to a good deal of trouble for the opportunity, have you not?”

  Wary, a protest lay on her lips. Yet, he was correct. She took the prince’s arm.

  “You look lovely,” he said. “And amazingly well.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. “Well?”

  “I was told you had died four years ago…shortly after our meeting at the Sundaze Fountain,” he said, glancing over at her.

  She would have been foolish to not realize he was looking for a reaction. She gave him the safest of answers. “I have no knowledge of what you speak.”

  Halting at another cart, he threw a coin at the vendor and grabbed a few chokladers. He offered her one.

  She accepted. The sweet melted in her mouth. Savoring every moment, she licked her lips. Never had she tasted something so delicious.

  Looking up, she saw him studying her with a satisfied expression.

  “Do you think I can be bought for a few pieces of chokladers?” she asked when he gave her another.

  “It seems so.”

  She laughed.

  The prince was a strange one. Despite his status, he escorted her around the crowded streets without any qualms…and she looked like a homeless urchin off the streets.

  Yet, he seemed intent on her enjoyment. There had to be a reason, one she shouldn’t ignore.

  “It would be best if I give you back your gift.” She enjoyed one last touch of the silk before taking it from around her neck.

  He stopped her. “It is but a scarf…and not as exquisite as you believe.”

  “It is not only that,” she confessed. “I shouldn’t be here.”


  “With me?”

  “With anyone,” she replied, lowering her gaze back to the scarf. He was right, she supposed, that the scarf was not something Sareta would wear. She, though, adored it.

  No one else had remembered her nameday. She ran her hand over the scarf again. What harm could it do? It was such a small gift.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled again with not only his lips, but his emerald eyes gleamed. “Ah, dear Kela, where, oh, where have you been hidden?”

  “You said that today was not for questions.”

  “I did and I am a man of my word.” His eyes watched her, basking in the joy of her presence. “A great day today, for certain. An evil thwarted.”

  He took her hand. Turning her wrist over, he ran his fingers over her palm and up her forearm. His eyebrow rose slightly in a pleased manner. Taking her hand to his lips, he kissed the bare skin.

  “As you wish, no questions, but I wonder how one could perform in the manner that was exhibited and be wandering the street as a waif.”

  Immediately, she stiffened and withdrew her hand. “You, sir, have been kind to me, in which I give you thanks, but you are under a mistaken impression. You think I’m someone I’m not, if you believe I’m someone other than what I present myself. I am no more than a waif, as you called me.”

  Swallowing hard, she pivoted around and began to walk down the street. His spoken words resonated loudly within her.

  Hurried footsteps followed her. “Kela, wait,” he pleaded. “I meant no offense. Come, please. Let me at least enjoy the rest of the day with you. You haven’t seen all the celebrations. Have you ever seen a street performance?”

  He took her hand once more, as if all were forgiven. She made no more protest. She desired to stay and participate in the revelry.

  Yet, his words were not forgotten. It would be foolish to do so. This prince knew who she was…what she was.

  * * * *

  A round of wild applause erupted at the end of the act. Kela resisted the urge to stand and clap. No one else had done so, but she felt moved with the excitement that had taken hold of her.

  The day had been one of wonderment and awe.

  She walked with the people, cheered and laughed. Not all had been pleasant. At one point, they had come across a fight. There seemed to have been no reason other than overindulgence of ale.

  The prince had kept her away from the exhibit of drunkenness, but other revelers enjoyed it greatly. Whistles and cheers resounded over the rasping of raucous laughter.

  She supposed a lady would have been aghast at the sight. Then again, she had seen much worse.

  More than once she had caught the prince’s eyes on her, smiling.

  The prince had been by her side for the whole of the afternoon. He took great pleasure in explaining what she had no knowledge of, including the actors on stage. There were no women to play the part of females. In Scarladin, women were not allowed to become actors.

  “The performers are called lamposets,” he explained. “They come mostly from Azmarion, for the lamposets cannot have wings upon their backs if they play the part of a woman.”

  The fact amazed her, for if he had not told her the actors were males, she would not have known. The lamposets were beautiful.

  She wanted the day to go on forever…her taste of freedom…but time was against her. The sun had begun to lower on the horizon.

  As if reading her mind, the prince said, “I have something else to show you…away from prying eyes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I thought, perchance, you would enjoy seeing my fleogans I brought to Yucca. They are in the royal stable. I need to check upon their welfare. Would you accompany me?”

  She could not bear the thought of the day ending. “I would enjoy such.”

  Her hand lay upon his forearm. He adjusted her hand slightly by interlocking their arms. She made no objection.

  In truth, she felt eyes upon them as they walked. Reality returned on the realization that most would assume the worst about her.

  He leaned over, whispering, “They are jealous, nothing more, my lady. I assure you your reputation has been seen to during our afternoon. Behind you, I have had one of my most trusted servants, Leona, to serve as a chaperon.”

  Kela glanced over her shoulder at a woman wearing a coif and a dull brown surcoat. He was correct. Kela had noticed the woman earlier. The older woman had followed their steps.

  Gratification filled Kela with the deed. The act was one of respect.

  The royal stables were a huge complex at the northwest end of the city. The prince had a carriage waiting for them.

  A footman opened the door with a roaring lion painted on it. The prince allowed her entrance before he followed, with Leona behind him.

  The carriage wound through the city over the stoned, uneven streets. Kela sat back on the cushioned seats. She had never ridden in luxury.

  The ride took longer than Kela imagined, but the streets were crowded. A curtain covered the window. The prince would not let her pull them back.

  The prince talked for most of the trip. Tired, Kela closed her eyes. She meant for only a moment. Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep. She woke when the carriage stopped…in the prince’s arms.

  Bolting upright, she cried, “I’m sorry…”

  “Kela,” he said. “You have done nothing wrong. You know that, I hope.”

  His voice carried a seriousness that was not lost on Kela. She had no time to contemplate a deeper meaning, if there was any.

  He withdrew out of the carriage and waited for her to exit.

  She held his hand as she stepped out. The sun had waned over the horizon, leaving an orange tinge in the darkening sky.

  Turning, she faced the royal stables. The prince moved to her side.

  King Edulf had placed the stables at the northwest edge of the city, where the green valley began. The pasture ran for miles, into the Runsas Valley. The stable was built to house hundreds of horses and fleogans.

  The prince walked her down to the south entrance. The guards and keepers gave him no issue, allowing them free access.

  The smell brought back the days she rode most days with Falco. Such a long time ago.

  The hall was long and wide. Each stall was occupied with one of the notorious white fleogan of Brixtone, renowned not only for their agility and speed, but refined beauty. The magnificent beasts had their wings tucked back for the night.

  The prince halted at the last stall. Immediately, the most beautiful fleogan strutted up to him. He reached into his pocket and gave his pet a treat.

  “This is my champion, Asa.” He looked back at Kela. “Would you like to pet him?”

  She drew in a deep breath. Nervously, she extended her arm, jumping when Asa nudged her.

  “Asa likes you. He doesn’t like many.”

  “Do you think so, Prince…” Her words faltered.

  He chuckled. “You don’t even remember my name!” He clutched his chest, pretending offense. Moving closer over to her, he leaned across her shoulder and patted Asa’s neck. “My name is Pieter. Call me Pieter.”

  “Pieter,” Kela repeated softly.

  He stepped closer. He pushed back a fallen tress, touching her cheek gently.

  “Would you like to go for a ride on Asa?” His words breathed upon her. “Would you like to feel the wind in your hair? Would you like to feel free?”

  Leave, she thought. He’s dangerous… But he promised freedom. Freedom! I hadn’t known the feeling in such a long time.

  “Don’t you have a ball to attend this night?” she managed to utter.

  “I would rather be here with you.” He pulled her into an embrace. “Let’s ride. What harm could there be in a short flight?”

  “Let her go!” a sharp voice commanded.

  Pieter released Kela. He stepped back, silently waving his hand in a manner Kela had seen Sareta use. Instantly, she heard Falco ranting at her.

  Kela
! You have had your fun! Come forward! We have scoured the whole of the city for you! Grandfather…

  The king be damned!

  Kela! Do not…

  Nay, brother! Or can I call you brother?

  Do not be dramatic!

  Anger still brewed within her. She turned.

  Cono had found her.

  Family Finds

  Kela saw the look of stunned disbelief in Cono’s expression. His eyes blazed. He had no need to say a word for her to understand.

  She was in no mood to be reprimanded.

  Yet, it was she who was shocked.

  In two strides, Cono jerked Kela away from Pieter’s reach. Wrapping his arm protectively around her waist, his muscles flexed, challenging the prince to make a move…daring the prince.

  Pieter did not back down. “What is your meaning, Sordarin?”

  “You have kidnapped…”

  “Indeed! Do go on,” Pieter prodded. “I’ve kidnapped whom?”

  “King Edulf has demanded the lady’s return,” Cono stated. His hand lay on the hilt of his sword. “Stand back.”

  “You may be able to threaten others in that manner, Sordarin, but not I.” Pieter sneered. “Pray, what do you want to do? Run me through? Is your malice so great? Try, if you think you can! I know who you are…”

  “I am Cono Lothar, Sordarin warrior.”

  “You are the son of Crestiana of Dubtabor.”

  Cono unsheathed his sword and swung it out toward Pieter’s heart. “You know nothing!”

  “I know all your story,” Pieter reputed. “Perhaps it would be best if I had conversed with King Edulf.”

  If Pieter had hoped for a reaction, he had been successful. Cono was in a rage.

  Kela had had enough. She flicked the sword out of Cono’s hand.

  Confusion lay within Kela with the words exchanged. Questions arose on their meaning. Yet, her immediate concern lay with her warrior, nothing else.

  “No, Cono,” Kela beseeched her warrior. “Pieter has been nothing but kind to me. He saw to my welfare…and showed me only kindness and respect. He had nothing to do with my disappearance. I left on my own.”

  Cono’s chest heaved. His hatred oozed from his every pore.