James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Dras sighed. “I’ve already distracted a Gil’shar escort and Karaliene’s two Administrators just to come and see you. I’m not sure what more I want to do for a criminal like yourself.”

Taeris kept his face smooth. “These boys need safe passage out of Desriel.”

Dras stared at Taeris for a moment, then roared with laughter. “Is that all?” he chuckled. He turned from Taeris, shaking his head in disbelief as he inspected Davian, Wirr and Caeden. It was only a cursory glance, but then his smile faded and he looked at them again, this time through narrowed eyes.

“You are keeping worse company than usual, Taeris,” he said, all traces of amusement gone from his tone. He pointed to Caeden. “His disguise may have fooled the savages thus far, but I wouldn’t trust to it doing so for much longer. Those likenesses around the place are surprisingly accurate.”

“He was falsely accused, Dras,” said Taeris. “You know what the Gil’shar are like.”

“Even if I believed you and was inclined to help, did you really think the princess would allow this man to travel with her? Did you think she would vouch for him at the border?” Dras shook his head, not taking his eyes from Caeden, who had shrunk back under the thin man’s gaze. “Even you are smarter than that, Taeris. Why would she take the risk? If the Gil’shar found out, it would likely start a war.”

“Who’s starting a war?” a female voice came from the doorway.

As one, everyone in the room turned. The young woman who had spoken swept into the room, followed closely by several others; from the way everyone moved, Davian had no doubt that this was the princess.

He felt himself gaping a little at her entrance. She was magnificent. Her long flaxen hair was delicately arranged so that not a strand was out of place. Her elegant deep blue dress was simple but stylishly cut, and sparkling jewels glittered on her ears and at her neck. She was pretty, with green eyes and high, delicate cheekbones. But beyond all that, she had an air of authority, an indefinable presence that made him stand up a little straighter. To Davian’s left even Caeden, normally all but unreadable, wore a captivated expression as he looked at her.

Behind her trailed two men and a woman who immediately faded into the background; bodyguards, unless Davian missed his guess. After them came a couple of older attendants, then a younger man and woman, who looked around as if uncertain as to whether they should even be present.

With a start, Davian realised that the young man was the fighter they had seen out in the stadium. He had changed clothes and bore no signs of the bout he had lost, though his demeanour seemed odd. He stood in the corner of the room, and if Davian had not just seen him put up such a brave fight in front of thousands of people, he would have said he looked sulky.

Taeris stepped forward, ignoring Dras and bowing to the woman. “Your Royal Highness,” he said formally. “I hope that no-one will be starting anything. My companions and I are in grave danger, and….” He trailed off, realising the princess was no longer paying attention to him.

Davian turned, following her gaze.

At the back of the room, Wirr was cringing under the princess’ increasingly outraged glare. Taeris and Dras both looked from Karaliene, to Wirr, and then back again in complete confusion.

“You,” Princess Karaliene said imperiously, pointing directly at Wirr. “Walk with me.”

Wirr grimaced, shuffling forward, avoiding everyone’s stares. As Karaliene’s entourage began to follow her from the room, she turned, shaking her head at them. “You will stay here and attend to these men until I return,” she said firmly.

“Princess!” The cry of protest came from Dras. “I must insist that someone accompany you. This boy is travelling in the company of a murderer. Two murderers! There is no telling what danger he might pose!”

“Are you refusing to follow my express command, and thus the command of my father, Representative Lothlar?” snapped Karaliene. It had the exasperated sound of someone who had had this conversation before.

Dras hesitated, then subsided, confusion still plastered on his face. “No. No of course not, Your Highness,” he said, giving her an obsequious bow.

Karaliene responded with a curt nod, then spun on her heel and left, Wirr trailing behind. The door shut, and everyone in the room was left gaping at each other in open astonishment.

Taeris turned to Davian. “That,” he said with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, “ was unexpected.”

Finally recovering his wits, Dras rounded on Taeris, fire in his eyes. “Sarr,” he spat venomously, “ what game are you playing at here?”

Taeris couldn’t keep the bafflement from his features. “For perhaps the first time, Dras, I am as ignorant as you.” He shot a questioning glance at Davian, who shook his head. He was as stunned as everyone else at the turn of events.

Having little other recourse, they settled down to wait for Wirr and the princess to return.

Wirr followed Karaliene, silently cursing his bad luck. He’d known this moment would come eventually, but he’d wanted it to be on his terms, not like this.

They reached another small room, not too far from the one they had just left, but empty. They entered, and Karaliene closed the door behind them with a cold anger that made Wirr even more certain of the trouble he had caused. He braced himself.

Karaliene turned to him, arms crossed, assessing him with those calculating green eyes he remembered from so many years ago.

“Hello, cousin,” she said darkly.

Wirr gave an embarrassed smile.

“Hello, Kara,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Karaliene scowled at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this is all a joke.” She shook her head. “Fates, Torin, where have you been? How are you here, of all places? Do you have any idea how sick with worry both our fathers are?”

Wirr made what he hoped was a calming gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, putting as much penitence in his tone as he could muster. His shoulders slumped, and the last of his bravado left him. “I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”

Karaliene continued to glare at him for a moment. Then she sighed, and the hint of a smile crept onto her lips. “’Kara’. No-one except my father and yours calls me that any more.” She stepped forward, giving him a sudden and tight hug. “It’s been weeks… we didn’t know what to think, Tor. It’s good to see you.”

Wirr returned the embrace. “Torin. I’m going to have to get used to that again.” After so many years he couldn’t help but think of himself as Wirrander now, even though it was the second of his given names. He ran his hands through his hair. “So, I take it your father told you the truth about me? About where I’ve been?”

Karaliene nodded. “He told me as soon as we heard the news about the school; he was panicking and there was no way to hide it from me. I’m the only one, though. To everyone else, you’ve just been delayed in returning from Calandra. You probably have another month or so before anybody becomes too suspicious.”

Wirr nodded. The court had been told that he’d gone to the Isles of Calandra, to serve at the Andarran outpost there. It was unusual but not unheard of: a prince being sent to one of Andarra’s outlying colonies to learn warfare and tactics, to experience some real danger . The Isles were so remote that only someone who served at the actual outpost would be able to confirm he hadn’t been there – and those men had all sworn oaths not to reveal that information.