“You are coming with us. The only choice you have is whether you arrive whole or in pieces. It is up to you.”
The big man shoved the gag into the Prince’s mouth, tied it off, and rose abruptly. “Sleep well,” he said, his customary cheerful smile returned. He walked over to his place by the fire as if nothing had happened and began to eat again. The Prince, limbs shaking ever so slightly, turned jerkily over and tried to find sleep, though one thought did cross his mind:
So he does get angry.
***
The next morning, the Prince was awoken by a kick in the groin.
“AHH!”
“Oh—shadows and fire—”
A pair of hands quickly covered his mouth to cut off the sounds of pain he was making, audible even through the gag. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes, and he felt a sick and queasy feeling start in his toes and rise through his stomach to his throat.
“You know what’s funny,” said the girl, “I was actually aiming for your leg, but you rolled over. Wasn’t even my fault.”
He whipped his head around and glared at her, letting out a growl as an added sign of his disapproval. The look slid right off her, and she smiled, a quick sideways quirk of her lips.
“Guess our senses of humor aren’t compatible. Pity.”
She walked around the tree and undid the ropes tying him down. After a quick breakfast, after which he was allowed to relieve himself again, the Prince was tied back on the horse, and they began the second day of their journey.
This day was even worse. The Prince, who had never slept outside his private chambers in the Fortress, much less on the stony floor of a ravine in the mountains, could barely summon the energy to stay awake. Twice more during the course of the morning he fell off the side of the animal because he had fallen asleep and the beast had decided to make a sharp turn or rear up. He thanked the Empress that he had received rudimentary riding lessons for visits of state, or else the day would have been even worse. Still, he was not accustomed to being tied hand and foot, and as the sun rose and heated the day, the restraints dug into his skin at ankles and wrists, chaffing back and forth with the movement of the horse. Eventually it was all he could do to stop from whimpering in pain at every step, but manage it he did: they could tie him up, they could gag him, they could take him to the farthest ends of the earth, but he would not give them the pleasure of seeing him in pain.
As if in response to this thought, the horse turned suddenly, and the restraints dug even deeper into his skin as he was forced to cling to the saddle.The pain made him breathe in sharply through his nose, and he was only just able to keep a gasp from escaping past the gag.
Please let us stop soon. Oh Empress, please.
But they didn’t stop again until night had fallen, by which time the Prince was not only tired and bleeding, but almost blinded with hunger. He’d never gone without a midday meal before, and the evening and morning meals were a far cry from the gourmet feasts to which he was accustomed. When they had chosen a spot for the night and made camp, Tomaz moved over to untie him from the horse, but stopped short and let out an exclamation.
“He’s bleeding!”
The Prince was shocked to realize the big man looked actually surprised. And then, to the Prince’s utter amazement, concern flashed across the giant’s large, bearded face, and his huge hands quickly untied him, picked him up off the horse, and moved him to the nearby fire.
“Pass me a waterskin,” the big man rumbled, as he quickly removed both the restraints and the gag. The girl complied, handing him one of the large bulbous animal-skin bags they carried with their luggage. She was watching Tomaz with the same look of surprise that the Prince felt.
“What are you doing, Tomaz?” the girl asked.
“You bound him too tightly this morning,” the big man replied. “The bonds cut into his wrists and ankles. If we don’t clean them, they couldbecome infected.”
“So?”
Tomaz paused, and then slowly looked at her with a surprisingly sharp expression of disapproval that stunned the Prince and shocked the girl into silence. Tomaz then turned back and dipped a piece of cloth into the pot of heating water and lathered in with a small cake of what the Prince thought might be a kind of rustic animal-fat soap. He dropped the cloth back into the pot, waited for the water to finish boiling, and then re-lathered the cloth and used it to carefully clean the lacerations.
The Prince wasn’t sure who was more amazed, the girl or himself. He tried several times to think of something to say, but the situation was so bizarre that he found himself speechless. Was this the same man who had so recently threatened to bring him back to the Exiled Kindred in pieces if he didn’t mind his manners? It made absolutely no sense.
After a few minutes, the big man had finished his ministrations and retied the Prince’s bonds, which were now wrapped in cloth and done up in intricate knots that wouldn’t tighten on their own. The Prince was again tethered to a small tree near the edge of the fire, and given a dinner of dried meat, cheese, and water. Once he had finished, he rolled over and pretended to go to sleep, though in truth he remained awake, trying to figure out why the Exile had shown him such unexpected kindness.
The spot where the Exiles had chosen to make camp that night was in the shelter of a narrow passage through a large stone wall. The tree that the Prince was tied to grew in the shelter of that stone, making it a stunted, withered thing, but still rooted deeply enough to hold him. As he lay there feigning sleep, he heard the Exiles begin to whisper heatedly to each other, the sound of their conversation brought to him by the slightly concave wall.
“He’s the Prince of Ravens, Tomaz,” he heard the girl say vehemently. “He doesn’t deserve to be treated well.”
“He’s a boy,eshendai,” the man rumbled back. “And from what I know of the Fortress and his mother, he has seen precious little kindness in his life.”
“And given out far less,” she growled, voice clipped, fiery, and emphatic. “He’s one of the Children!”
“He’s barely old enough to shave every day,” he replied, voice measured and quiet. “He is little more than a boy, and his path has yet to be chosen.”
