Heir of Amber and Fire Page 2

  Prince Anders ate a few bites of his dinner, then sat back and looked at me squarely with piercing blue eyes.

  “So, Princess, tell me of yourself,” Prince Anders said, pushing his blond hair back from his face.

  “What would you like to know?” I asked, a bit shyly. He really was handsome, the kind of man Taryn and my other ladies-in-waiting would giggle about when they thought they were out of my earshot.

  “Anything,” he said. “How do you fill your days? My two younger sisters are accomplished at dancing and embroidery.”

  “I learn those things as well,” I said. “But my favorite thing is magic study. My tutor says I’m quite proficient at it.”

  Prince Anders made a choking sound. I thought he was trying to stifle a laugh, and I relaxed, thinking I had found a kindred spirit. Over the table, my father glared at me and shook his head ever so slightly. I looked again at the prince. He wasn’t laughing. In fact, his gentle face had turned stormy.

  “As Rothschan is a land of military might, not magic, we do not trust something so illogical and esoteric,” Prince Anders declared. “I understand Calians are born with this ‘gift’ — if it could even be thought of as such. Personally, I don’t think anything so unnatural could be a good thing. It is abhorrent, and not an acceptable thing for a princess to learn.”

  I gasped at the insult. My father rushed in to smooth things over.

  “I completely agree, Prince Anders,” he said. “After twenty years in this kingdom, it’s refreshing to hear such truth spoken. I’ve often despaired at being a good ruler when my heart disagrees with something the people consider inherent to their happiness. But you are right. It is a disgusting, unbecoming custom here in Calia. That is why Jennica will no longer be studying such things. I have already dismissed her magic tutor. I will have her magic books burned tonight.”

  I gasped again, this time at Father. Studying magic was the one thing, of all my lessons, that I actually enjoyed and excelled in. While my father wasn’t indulgent of me, he had never interfered in most aspects of my upbringing.

  Until now.

  “But, Father, why — ”

  My father cut me off. “A girl — no, a woman — of nineteen hardly needs something as repulsive as magic. It’s about time you represented your station well.”

  “But — ”

  “Don’t fret,” Prince Anders interrupted smoothly. “When you’re my wife, you won’t need such frivolities to amuse yourself.”

  “What?” I recoiled from the prince. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s all set,” my father informed me. “It will be a perfect political alliance.”

  “Rothschan looks forward to uniting with Calia,” Prince Anders said, inclining his head toward my father.

  My mother’s eyes flashed between worried and sad.

  “I can’t believe this!” I cried. “No one told me any of this! When is this to happen?” I looked at my father, who had that smug look from earlier back on his face.

  But instead of my father, it was the oily voice of Prince Anders that answered me.

  “Soon, Princess. In one month’s time, you shall be my bride.”

  Chapter Three

  I SPENT A MISERABLE hour crying. I didn’t think there were any tears left in my body. But all I had to think about was the prospect of marrying Prince Anders, and I’d start all over again. My eyes were puffy and my head was fuzzy, but I couldn’t stop. My bed was a rumpled mess, a testament to the fact that I had tried to muffle the sounds of my crying.

  After Prince Anders had announced our upcoming wedding, Father had taken one look at my face and dismissed me from dinner immediately. He couched it under the guise of, My dear, you look unwell, perhaps you should lie down. But I’m sure he was worried I would embarrass him, or worse, somehow threaten his pact with the prince. I was glad to get away, even though escaping from dinner didn’t mean I was escaping my fate.

  A tentative knock sounded at my chamber door.

  “Come in,” I said thickly, sitting up. I needed a handkerchief badly, but instead had mopped my eyes and face on my dress. My red dress. The dress that was, “of course,” the prince’s favorite color.

  How could I have been so stupid? I walked right into that trap.

  The door opened, and Taryn entered with a tray carrying a cup and a pitcher of water. She closed the door carefully behind her, then set the tray down and filled the cup with water. Handing it to me, she studied me carefully as I drank the whole thing without stopping.

  “Thank you, Taryn,” I sniffled. I put the glass on the bedside table.

  Taryn sank down in a nearby chair, across from me still sprawled on the bed. Intensity radiated from her, in a way I had never seen from her before. She opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind about whatever she had been about to say. “If I may, Your Highness...” she started.

  “Please, speak frankly, Taryn. You know you can always be honest with me.”

  “How do you feel about marrying the prince?”

  I fought the tears that threatened to come back. “I don’t know what happened! Father and I have had our differences, but I never thought he would just marry me off without even discussing it with me first.”

  “But do you want to marry Prince Anders?”

  “No,” I said readily. “I don’t know him, but the little I learned of him tonight seems horrible. A life without magic! I couldn’t give it up.”

  Taryn nodded, as if what I was saying was the correct answer. She stood up and extended her hand to me. “Come, Your Highness.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We are going to see Queen Melandria.”

  “Now? It’s getting late, I don’t want to disturb Mother.”

  “You won’t be. She told me to bring you to her tonight, as soon as you were ready.” She grimaced at my tear-streaked face and messy dress. “I honestly wasn’t sure how long that would be.”

  I sniffled, laughing through my tears, and got up from the bed. I walked over to my chamber door, but Taryn put her hand over mine on the handle before I could open the heavy wooden door. She quickly shook her head at me.

  “Taryn, what — ”

  She held her hand up, stopping me from saying more. Easing the door open slowly, she poked her head out in the hallway. All was quiet. She slipped into the hallway, opening the door a little wider so I could follow. We crept the few feet to my mother’s apartments, Taryn looking around furtively, me looking at her curiously. Taryn lightly tapped on the queen’s door and then opened it, ushering me inside. My mother, who had been sitting by her fireplace, stood when I entered. Mother’s eyes met Taryn’s; the queen nodded, and Taryn dipped her head in response. She left, shutting the door quietly but firmly behind me.

  I stood in the entryway, unsure of what to do or what was happening.

  My eyes went back and forth, following my mother as she paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. The smell of ink lingered faintly in the air; looking at my mother’s writing desk, I saw some handwritten pages strewn across the surface, allowing the ink to dry. An unlit candle lay on the table next to the paper.

  Mother was fidgeting with a simple gold necklace from which a small moonstone pendant hung. In my entire life, I had never seen my mother — stately, reserved Queen Melandria — fidget.

  The gem caught my eye and I stared, drawn in by some allure it held over me. My heart started beating faster and my breath came fast. I didn’t know why, but I wanted that necklace. I needed it. If I couldn’t possess it, I would surely die. My hand started to reach out toward it.

  My mother gently put my hand back down at my side and fastened the necklace around my neck. My breathing eased. My hand flew up to the pendant.

  Finally, I had to break the tense silence.

  “Mother, what’s going on?”

  My mother’s eyes slowly met mine. “Jennica, forgive me.”

  My blood ran cold. I rushed to her, grabbing her by the sh
oulders. “What do you mean? Forgive you for what? Are you about to do something desperate?”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes, threatening to fall. She touched my cheek. “My darling, beautiful girl. There’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

  “Mother, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  “Sit.” My mother indicated the love seat by the fire. I sank down in the plush velvet. Mother sat next to me. She took one of my hands in hers, stroking it gently. She flipped it over, studying my palm. Whatever she was looking for didn’t seem to be there, as she sighed heavily and flipped my hand back.

  “Mother, what’s going on?” I repeated.

  There was a light, quick tap at the door, and then Taryn slipped back into the room. She had donned a traveling cloak in her absence. She was holding a plain dress, a long, dark cloak, and a pair of boots in her arms. Over her shoulder was a worn leather knapsack.

  “I checked out the window in Princess Jennica’s room. They’re on their way, Your Majesty,” she said to my mother.

  Mother moved faster than I had ever seen her move before. She turned to the wall next to the fireplace, patting the stone about eye level. Suddenly, a door noiselessly opened next to the hearth. A dark tunnel yawned wide.

  A secret passage? Nineteen years I had lived in this castle, and I never knew it had secret passageways!

  “You’ll have to go, now, before they get here,” Mother said.

  “Go? Where? Before who gets here?” My head snapped between Mother and Taryn, who stood by the entrance to the secret passage.

  “Shh!” My mother gave me a fierce, quick hug. “No time for that! Taryn will lead you out of the palace.”

  “But — ”

  Mother scooped up the candle and the papers on her desk. Shoving them into my hands, she pushed me into the passage. “This letter is for you — I’ve explained everything. Keep it private. If you see any Calian soldiers on your way, avoid them. King Hendon is not to be trusted, Jennica. He’s not even your father.”

  “What?!” Mother couldn’t just throw something like that at me and expect me not to have any questions. “What do you mean, he’s not my father?”

  “It’s in the letter, Jennica. Now go!”

  “But where am I going?” I was stubbornly holding on to the stone framing the passage’s entrance, wanting some sort of answer. Taryn had her arms around my waist, practically pulling me into the passage.

  “To Orchwell, the kingdom a few days south of here,” Mother said. “Find Kye of Orchwell, the famed dragon seeker. Have him bring you to Joichan, the dragon who held me captive.”

  Taryn succeeded in pulling me away from the door. Mother blew me a kiss as the door to the secret passage closed. The last thing I saw were her lovely gray eyes, sad and hopeful at the same time.

  And the last thing I heard, before the darkness swallowed Taryn and me, was the sound of the door to my mother’s chamber opening.

  Chapter Four

  I STAYED FROZEN IN place. For one thing, I couldn’t see in the total darkness. For another, I was worried about my mother. Should I go back?

  I felt for the door behind me, expecting to find a hidden latch or switch to open the door back into my mother’s room. Instead, I felt Taryn’s hand on my arm and heard her voice in my ear.

  “Your Highness, we must continue. Come.”

  Without waiting for me to agree, her hand slid down to mine and she guided me deeper into the passageway. It unnerved me, to walk without seeing where I was going, but Taryn’s cool hand led me forward.

  I estimated we had walked for perhaps a quarter of an hour when Taryn stopped. I nearly plowed into her. Quietly, she asked, “Do you still have the candle your mother gave you?”

  “How did you know she gave me a candle?” I asked, just as quietly. “You were ahead of me.”

  She laughed softly. “Princess, we’ve been planning this for some time. The queen has her own set of spies in the palace, and she learned that the king was going to move forward with this marriage alliance. She came up with her own plan to protect you. I’m aware of every part of it. Including the part where your mother gave you a candle, since I would have my hands full.”

  Even though Taryn couldn’t see me in the dark, I shook my head, annoyed at my obtuseness. Of course Taryn was aware of everything. Her efficiency and lack of surprise were obvious giveaways. And even if they weren’t, her intensity when she questioned me about my feelings toward Prince Anders should have tipped me off. While Taryn and I were close, more than most royalty would normally be with their servants, there were certain boundaries Taryn never crossed with me. Including personal probing questions.

  I was about to give Taryn the candle when I realized I wasn’t holding it any longer. My right hand was still clasped around Taryn’s. My left hand was clenched around Mother’s letter only. No candle.

  “Taryn, I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I don’t have it anymore. I must have dropped it.”

  Taryn’s voice held a tinge of dismay. “We need light, Princess. I’ve been guiding us so far by following the wall with my free hand, but I know the passageway forks up ahead and I need to be able to see which is the correct one to take. One of the corridors will take us outside, but the other doubles back into the castle and into the Great Hall.”

  “We could turn around and look for it,” I suggested.

  “No,” Taryn said. “We can’t waste any more time. There’s a very narrow window in which I can sneak you out before the guards change. We’ll just have to keep going and hope I pick the right passage.”

  She started to move forward, but I stayed put. I felt a tug on my arm from Taryn. “Princess, please. We need to keep going.”

  “Wait,” I said. Letting go of Taryn’s grasp, I held my hand in front of me, palm up. “Illumine.”

  A small, cold light appeared above my outstretched palm. I looked up at Taryn — whose face I could now see — and smiled. The ball of light didn’t illuminate much, but the passageway was quite narrow. With my magical light, we would be able to see a few feet around us in any direction.

  “You’ve come further in your studies than I thought,” she said, with an appreciative, answering grin.

  “Conjuring lights is basic spell casting,” I said modestly, although I was pleased at the compliment.

  “Still, considering you’ve only been studying magic for a year, I’m impressed,” she said. Shifting the dress and shoes she carried, she adjusted the pack on her back. She held out her hand for my mother’s letter. I wordlessly handed it over. She stuffed the papers in the pack and then turned to face the passageway again. “Come.”

  Feeling a little guilty, I asked, “Do... do you want me to carry anything?” The thought would never have occurred to me before tonight, but the situation we were in was anything but typical.

  Taryn shook her head as she started walking. I hurried after her. “You’ll be carrying this pack soon enough, Princess,” she said wryly. “And for longer than you like.”

  After that we didn’t talk much. My world narrowed down to focusing on Taryn’s back and making sure I put one foot in front of the other, endlessly. I didn’t want to think about what I was leaving behind, or what might be happening to Mother. I hoped she was safe.

  When we came to where the passageway branched off, Taryn chose the left without hesitation. I understood why she would have been unsure without being able to see where she was going. The left branch was unobtrusive; it would have been easy to miss in the dark.

  We didn’t walk too far when Taryn stopped again at a blank stone wall. She felt along the wall, squinting in the dim light for something. Once she found what she was looking for, she nodded in satisfaction. She flipped a latch and, to my surprise, the wall popped open slightly. It was a hidden door, so skillfully made it blended into the castle facade.

  Taryn turned to me. “We need to get you changed into something less conspicuous.”

  Nodding, I untethered the ball o
f light so it hung in the air just above our heads. Taryn helped me out of the heavy red gown and into the plain dress she had been carrying. I exchanged my fancy slippers for the sturdier, more practical leather boots. Taryn also undid my hair, pulling out the pins so it flowed freely down my back.

  “I’ve packed a comb and ribbons for you, but it’s not worth going through your pack to find them,” Taryn said quietly. “But fortunately, it’s dark enough out — and I have one more thing to disguise you.” She bundled up my finery in her arms and put her hand on the unlatched door. “Your Highness, please distinguish your light.”

  I swallowed my instinctive question and instead held my hand out to the light, willing it to tether to my hand again. Once it reconnected, I placed my left hand, palm down, over my right. The light winked out.

  In a low voice, Taryn said, “Wait here, Your Highness. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to proceed.”

  Barely breathing, afraid of making any sound, I whispered, “All right.”

  Taryn opened the stone door just enough so that she could slip her slender frame through it. The door closed behind her, but not completely. I could make out the tiniest sliver of fading light through its crack. As I waited impatiently, I clenched and released my fists repeatedly.

  The door opened a little wider. Taryn’s face filled the frame. She motioned for me to follow her.

  I stepped clear of the stone door and Taryn, with a little effort, pushed it shut behind me. The door became a nondescript castle wall once again. My eyes slowly adjusted to the semi-dark outside the castle. The moon shone overhead, but the cloudy night obscured its light somewhat.

  Taryn shifted her weight as she pulled the long cloak from the pile of clothes she carried. She handed me the pack and the cloak, whispering, “Wear the pack, and then put on the cloak. Pull the hood up.”