“He wasbornto his path, Tomaz,” the girl insisted. “He has the evidence of it etched into his skin. He’s the Raven—he bears theDeathTalisman!”
“And yet there he lies,” the big man said, and the Prince could almost feel Tomaz gesture in his direction, “sleeping like any other person. There is no monster lying in that alcove, no horrible fangs that sprout from a bloodthirsty mouth. You are blinded by your ideas of him, of what he is supposed to be. Open your eyes andsee.”
“You are blinded by your compassion,ashandel,” the girl responded. “You see the boy instead of the monster he’s born to become. The evidence of it isn’t in a grotesque appearance, it’s in his immaculately manicure nails. He is a Child of the Empress, a son of the Tyrant, born into a world of privilege, unable to even comprehend the life of a Baseborn commoner. Even if he were to see the world his Mother has created, I doubt he would ever accept it. The Council will agree with me when we arrive in Vale. They’ll pull what information they can out of him, and then they’ll dispose of him.”
“Ah,eshendai… you didn’t used to be so harsh. For one whose own life path changed so abruptly, you are very quick to judge what the future holds for others. No path is set in stone. I can see something in him. Can’t you?”
“I see many things in him. Pride, arrogance, a hard and fast belief that he is a god among men. Not to mention a threat to my people and my life. A boy whose power literally feeds off the lives of others—”
“—a boy who’s been cursed,” Tomaz interrupted, “with a terrible burden. Someone in his own family just tried to kill him. He may have convinced himself that it was a plot by others, but you and I both know that the signs point to either the Empress or theChildren on Her orders.”
“So not only do we want him dead, but the Empire does as well.”
“Eshendai, stop being stubborn! Use your head. Why would the Empire want him dead? It makes no sense. If he’s the seventh son, the one intended to destroy the Kindred, then why would they try to kill him? If I can see that, then surely you can see that. Calm your temper andthink.”
A long pause fell between them, and the Prince barely dared to breathe lest they realize he was awake and listening.
“You’re right,” the girl said suddenly. Her voice had changed somehow, and the Prince realized that all the heat had gone out of it, leaving it cold and dispassionate. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the fact we don’t have the information we need to fully understand what’s happening. Every instinct is telling me to kill him now while he sleeps, or else to wait until we get him back to the Council and arrange his death once they’re finished with him. But…”
“But if the Empire wants him dead,” Tomaz finished for her, “shouldn’t we want him alive?”
There was another pause.
“Yes,” the girl responded. “Yes, we should. But I don’t think he can change the way you think he can.”
“He’s just a boy,” Tomaz rumbled again. “A princeling who would walk right back into the arms of those who want him dead. We’re the only thing keeping him alive.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” the girl said, the coldness gone from her voice and replaced by wry amusement.
“Come, we’ve talked long enough,” Tomaz said. “Dawn will be here soon, but ’till then we should sleep. I will take the first watch tonight.”
The Prince heard the girl come back to the fire and lie down, and the big man bank the fire and settle in for his watch.
His heart was beating quickly, but his mind was strangely blank. He wasn’t sure what to think, and he lay there awake for a long time, listening to the girl’ssoft breathing and the distant, unfamiliar sounds of the night, trying over and over again to remind himself that they were wrong.
Chapter Five: The Death Watch
The next few days passed much the same: the Prince woke, was bound and gagged, tied to the horse, and forced to suffer in silence through a long day of riding. The only change was that he managed to devise a way to tilt his head at just the right angle so as to see out from under the hood. All that he ever saw, though, were rocks, trees, and other green things, with no end in sight. Try as he might to distinguish one mountain pass from another, he was unable to do so. How the Exiles did, he couldn’t begin to understand, and he eventually gave up, head pounding and eyes throbbing due to the awkward angle.
The Exiles spoke only rarely during the day, and never to the Prince, except to give him directions. They would talk more openly at night around their campfire, if they made one, but unlike before they spoke too softly for him to hear. Even Tomaz, whose voice always gave the impression of a distant earthquake, kept his words sufficiently muted to prevent the Prince from eavesdropping again. But they never ignored him completely, especially the girl, who always seemed to be watching. In fact, he realized that whenever he shifted, she shifted. Whenever he moved farther away from the fire, she moved closer, using the excuse of stirring the coals or adding another handful of bark and leaves, but always keeping an exact distance between them.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked on the third night, breaking the silence during supper. The effect he had hoped for, that of a sudden and forceful interruption, was slightly ruined by the fact that he was shivering from cold under his thin clothes and patchy blanket. The knowledge of their earlier conversation also still floated in the back of his mind, making him uneasy, and he felt suddenly uncomfortable when they looked directly at him.
“Where do you think we’re taking you?” the girl asked, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.
The Prince, certain she was mocking him, almost snapped back at her. But he cooled his temper when Tomaz conspicuously set down his food, stretched his fingers, and rolled his shoulders. They had camped near a running stream that night, and the Prince was cold enough without receiving another dunking in the name of good manners.
“Never mind,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, before focusing back on his dried meat and hard cheese. Tomaz chuckled, a deep rolling rumble, and though the Prince’s cheeks burned, he stayed silent.
This was the most significant interaction they had in those few days. The Prince, who all his life had been inclined to introversion, had no complaints. The Exile girl, whose name he was never able to catch no matter how hard he tried, was just as quiet, and it was usually Tomaz who began any kind of conversation, often as not by commenting cheerfully on whatever seemed to be passing through his head. The girl would respond briefly; the Prince, who was still gagged while traveling, would stay mute; and then they would all lapse back into silence.
But on the seventh day of their journey, the Prince’s shoulders and chest began to prickle with an unnatural heat.
Immediately, he sat up straight in his saddle. Could it be?
He shot a surreptitious glance at the two Exiles from under his hood as best he could and saw that they had noticed nothing. Both were out front of him, Tomaz leading the way on his black charger, and the girl holding the reins of the pack horse the Prince rode.
He slouched back in the saddle, heart pounding, and tried to show no further sign of excitement.
