A Daughter of Kings, Part I by Louis Piechota
Chapter XIII
“The Princess of the Kwi’Kiri”
“I hate him,” Alirah hissed.
“It’s okay,” murmured Kelorn.
“No it isn’t! Impertinence? And how dare he talk to you…”
“It’s okay!”
This time Kelorn spoke much more forcefully, though he kept his voice low. He also grasped her arm as if to restrain her from some folly. Far more than his words, the sudden touch caused her to be still.
“People can hear us and see us,” he whispered, releasing her. “Lord Modrin will know what we say. He is very dangerous. It won’t do us any good to antagonize him.”
Alirah shook her head. With an effort she held her voice to a wrathful whisper, but she could not be silent. “But he shouldn’t talk to you like that! Or to Caeryl! It isn’t her fault those soldiers were killed; they were attacked! And anyway she just spent the night tied up in a cave with a bunch of thugs! Why should she be made to feel bad now? And you…”
“I am not a traitor. I have nothing to fear,” said Kelorn in a normal voice. “Come on, let’s get our camp set up and get something to eat. I’m starving.”
She stared at him for a long moment, angry and frustrated almost to the point of tears. But his blue-gray eyes were scared and imploring. At last she let out a heavy sigh.
“Okay.”
Kelorn led them to an out-of-the way spot on a trampled field of rye where nobody else had yet pitched a tent. No doubt the young Druid intended for them to keep as much to themselves as possible, and for once Alirah agreed with him. But the Princess’ words of praise had spread like wildfire among the soldiers, and they were curious about her. Worse, with Caeryl and her handmaidens secluded in their tent, Alirah was left the one visible young woman in an encampment of more than two hundred mostly young men. She instantly became a celebrity.
Even as she got Tryll tethered to an old tree stump, she caught glances out of the corners of her eyes. She half heard, half sensed excited whispers among the soldiers. As if by chance, a good number of legionnaires wandered over and kindled a massive cook fire just yards away from where she and Kelorn were laying out their bedrolls. They invited her to join them for dinner, then invited Kelorn too as an afterthought.
At first she was annoyed, and more than a little scared, by their attention. She grew especially alarmed when she and Kelorn sat down with the first group of soldiers. Suddenly many others wanted to press in as well. But the first crew of about two dozen seemed to have appointed themselves her protectors. They kept away the rest of the crowd so as to “give her some space,” and they were friendly and respectful to a man. After a while Alirah’s alarm faded. She began to smile again and laugh along with them, though Kelorn remained anxious and silent.
One of her adoptive soldiers was the young captain, Aradin. He offered her his own small, canvas tent for the night. From somewhere he scrounged up a basin of water so that she could wash up a little after she’d changed out of her riding clothes. By then it was time for supper. A few enterprising soldiers had “salvaged” two kegs of dark ale from the ruins of Bravny, and now doled it out among their comrades. For the meal, a gnarled old veteran had prepared a great quantity of stew. All sorts of vegetables and bits of unknown meat, produced from who-knew-where, had gone into his big iron pot and simmered all evening. Now the cook and a few others ladled the stew into wooden bowls and battered tin cups. Hard biscuits and stale bread were shared out for dipping.
To her mingled annoyance and delight, the cook offered Alirah the first bowl of stew. It took her a minute to gather enough courage to eat the murky concoction, but when she did she was amazed. Whether it was just because she was so hungry, or because the cook was truly skilled, the stew tasted as delicious as anything she’d ever eaten. She quickly ate her whole bowl and then asked for seconds.
This more than anything else won her the legionnaires’ esteem. The old cook dubbed her the “Princess of the Kwi’Kiri,” and the title stuck. For the rest of the night the soldiers addressed her as “Princess” or “your Highness,” and many of them made a show of bowing or kneeling before her. They peppered her with questions about her rescue of Princess Caeryl, and about what exactly a Kwi’Kiri was.
At length, encouraged by their admiration and by a mug of ale, Alirah found herself standing atop the wide, sawn stump of a recently felled tree. Dozens of soldiers sat around her in a great circle like so many schoolboys gathered to hear a story. With her eyes shining and her sword flashing in the firelight she reenacted, with some embellishment, first her rescue of Caeryl and then her duel with Riuk in Rusukhor. The soldiers cheered for her and shouted their derision at her unseen opponents.
Kelorn sat amongst the legionnaires. He sat several rows back, and in that part of the circle that was furthest from the dwindling camp fires; but she knew he was there. He gazed up at her with admiration and a blushing, wondrous expression that reminded her of their dance in Qurn. That look banished what little stage fright she might have had. She took great care never to look straight at him, but among all that crowd he was the only one for whom she was really performing.
When she finished, dropping a curtsey in imitation of the one she’d given Riuk, the soldiers yelled and applauded so loudly that their comrades in other parts of the camp shouted at them to shut up. By that time full night had fallen and a waxing moon had risen in the east. One by one soldiers returned to their tents or bedrolls. Sentries kindled watch-fires around the perimeter of the camp, but all of the other fires burned low. Alirah lay down in Captain Aradin’s tent. Kelorn threw himself down across the opening of the tent like some big guard dog. Long before the rest of the camp had gone completely quiet they were both snoring contentedly.
The Arandians broke camp early. Before the sun had climbed above the trees to the east, soldiers were busy striking down tents and tying up bedrolls. The cooks prepared big pots of porridge beside smoky little fires kindled from dew-damp wood. Worn-out from the past two days Alirah and Kelorn ate both the porridge that was offered to them and a good deal more food out of their own provisions.
They had just finished packing up their own gear when Darion approached them. The Princess’ Champion had cleaned himself up and he looked well rested. His mailshirt gleamed again in the morning sunlight, but the rent from Kelorn’s sword now stood out more obviously. When he stood before them he bowed and spoke with a faint, wry smile.
“Good morning, Alirah of the Kwi’Kiri. Princess Caeryl requests that you accompany her in her carriage today. I shall take you to her now, unless you need time to prepare yourself.”
Alirah blinked in surprise. “Accompany her? For the day? But who says that we’re even travelling together?”
Darion grinned. “Apparently she does. In any case, if you’re going to Illmaryn as you say, then our roads run together for many miles. You’d have to go out of your way to avoid us. And I might add that most people in this part of the world would consider the invitation a high honor. But shall I tell her that you refuse?”
Alirah hesitated, glancing at Kelorn.
“Go,” he said at once. “I can handle Tryll.”
“Well, okay…” she said uncertainly.
“Are you ready now, or do want to prepare yourself?” asked Darion.
The hint of amusement in his eyes made Alirah feel as if she ought to go prepare herself, somehow; but she could not think of what to do. She’d already put on fresh riding clothes and packed up all of her other gear. Luckily she had a spare shirt and pair of pants, but they were not much less travel stained than the muddy garments she’d taken off the night before. She wondered if Darion expected her to put on a skirt, but even if there had been a private spot to change in, she wasn’t about to put on new clothes just because some other girl had asked to see her.
“No, I’m ready. I guess,” she said at last.
Darion nodded. “Very well.
Leaving Kelorn in charge of both of the horses, Alirah followed Darion to one of the two ornate carriages she had seen the day before. By then the carriages, wagons, and carts had all formed up on the road. A line of soldiers on foot was assembling on either side of the vehicles, while companies of horsemen were gathering at the front and the rear. Lord Modrin rode at the front of the convoy, so Alirah was not surprised to see Kelorn make his way towards the back.
The Princess’ carriage was massive and solidly built. Thick planks of oak formed the vehicle’s walls, and elegant but sturdy bars of wrought iron protected its windows. A brigand would need an axe and a lot of patience to hack his way in. Four guardsmen stood at attention beside the carriage. Their raiment was edged in gold rather than silver, like Aradin’s had been. Alirah learned afterwards that those colors denoted them as Royal Guards rather than ordinary legionnaires. They looked at her with grim faces and keen eyes.
Darion bowed low and then took his leave. Alirah felt nervous under the guards’ stares; but evidently they were expecting her. At once two of them opened the doors. One of the guards spoke into the carriage, announcing her, and then all four moved aside to flank the opening. Alirah dropped a quick curtsey and climbed inside.
The interior of the carriage was dim and stuffy. Two plush, upholstered bench seats faced each other, with plenty of legroom in between and storage space behind. Caeryl and the older, olive-skinned handmaiden sat on one seat, while Pala sat upon the other. Pala gave Alirah a shy smile as she entered, but the other handmaiden eyed her appraisingly.
Caeryl had cleaned herself up splendidly, but to Alirah’s eyes she did not look much refreshed. She wore a long, shimmering dress of sky blue silk, with delicate shoes to match. Her hair had been brushed until it shone, and fell in smooth abundance to the middle of her back. Her fair skin seemed almost to glow with a soft, scrubbed radiance. Yet for all that she still looked weary and drawn. Her eyes looked sad and a little puffy. Alirah guessed she’d done as much crying as sleeping in the night.
“Hello,” said the Princess, with a forced smile. “It’s so good of you to come!”
“Oh… it’s nothing,” said Alirah trying to smile in return. “You wanted to see me?”
“Your Highness,” murmured the older handmaiden suddenly.
Alirah blinked. “What?”
“You should address her as your Highness, or as Princess Caeryl.”
Caeryl blushed faintly, but said nothing. Alirah took a deep breath, annoyed.
“You wanted to see me, your Highness?”
“I did. I’m glad you’ve come. I was hoping you would ride with me today. I mean… At least for a while…”
Caeryl trailed off as if abashed. Her blush deepened. Outside the carriage Alirah heard a man’s voice cry out some command, which was then repeated down the line of soldiers. The carriage began to roll slowly forward. She heard the clink and clatter of the legionnaires’ armor as they began to march.
Alirah waited, for Caeryl seemed to be on the verge of saying something more, but a few moments passed in awkward silence. The two handmaidens sat quiet and still, gazing at nothing or else out the little, barred windows. Alirah fidgeted where she sat. Her sword stuck out awkwardly on the bench seat. She fiddled with it for a few seconds, then blinked.
“I’m surprised they let me wear this in here,” she said aloud.
“I commanded it,” said Caeryl. Her voice was soft, but thick with emotion. “You have proven yourself. I want you to wear it wherever you wish.”
Alirah looked up at her, startled by her tone. “Um… thank you, your Highness.”
“You really were amazing yesterday. I’ve never known a girl who could do what you did: wield a sword and ride a horse like a man and all that.”
Alirah blushed, then shrugged. “Well I never rode much until this journey, but it isn’t hard. And I don’t know how it is that I ride like a man. I wouldn’t ride sidesaddle unless I was wearing a skirt, and then I’d just change my clothes first anyway. As for wielding a sword… it just takes practice. You could do it too, if you wanted to.”
Caeryl laughed and shook her head emphatically.
“I could never do that. Darion let me hold his sword once. It was so heavy! I can’t imagine trying to wield it in a battle!”
“Well, his sword is quite a bit bigger than mine. And mine felt heavy enough when I first started, believe me. But you get stronger over time. The only problem is most everyone you might actually have to fight is a lot bigger and stronger still.”
Caeryl nodded, though she still looked amazed. She paused again, as if gathering her thoughts or the nerve to speak. When she finally did speak she averted her eyes.
“Is it true what the men are saying about you? That you’re not just a girl of the Kwi’Kiri, but are the princess of that people?”
Alirah hesitated. She did not see any harm in the lie, but in the back of her mind a warning bell began to ring. Before she could answer, Caeryl continued, speaking slowly and deliberately as if to make absolutely sure she was understood.
“I hope that it is true. I should dearly like to see more of you and get to know you better, and to reward you properly when the time comes. But Lord Modrin and the others won’t want me to spend much time with a peasant girl, no matter how brave she is. For that matter, if you were a princess, Modrin would have to treat you with more respect himself, and you wouldn’t have to call me your Highness all the time.”
“Well… it might be true,” said Alirah. She could not stop a grin from curling her lip slightly. Caeryl saw the look, and she smiled brightly in return.
At that moment they heard a sudden pounding of horses’ hooves outside the carriage. They all looked up, startled, just in time to see Modrin’s severe face appear in the window.
“Reinforcements from Tarnvir have arrived, your Highness…” Modrin began. He stopped short when he saw Alirah. “What is she doing in there?”
“I… I asked her to join me,” stammered Caeryl. All of a sudden she sounded scared. She had even turned a shade paler. Alirah marveled at the sudden change, and felt a fresh surge of loathing for the First Minister.
Modrin scowled, then let out something in between a sigh and a grunt of exasperation. “Your Highness, I realize this girl has done you a great service, and she will be rewarded. But it is not appropriate that you should bring a peasant, a nobody, right into your carriage and…”
“Oh, but she isn’t a nobody,” said Caeryl. “Not really. Have you not heard? She is not just a girl of the Kwi’Kiri. She is their princess.”
Modrin’s scowl deepened. “That’s just what the men started to call her last night.”
“It’s true though,” said Caeryl, looking quickly towards Alirah. “Isn’t it?”
Alirah felt as if the First Minister’s eyes were needles pinning her to her seat. It took everything she had, and all of her dislike for the man, to keep her head up and her voice even.
“It is.”
“Really.”
Alirah was certain he did not believe them. She was also certain that even if he had, he would not have considered the Princess of the Kwi’Kiri to be a creature worthy of much respect. She knew she must look fairly grimy from the long road, despite her efforts to clean up that morning, and that her homespun clothes were hardly the garments of royalty. Fortunately Caeryl also seemed to guess the First Minister’s thoughts.
“She is travelling incognito because she comes with so little guard,” the Princess said quickly. “But now she’ll be safe, of course. She will accompany us to Arandinar before going on to Illmaryn. It’s only a day or two out of the way, after all. When we get there I will present her to my father so she can be properly honored and rewarded. I only hope she won’t have any complaints to make about Arandia’s treatment of her on her journey.”
Caeryl’s voice started high and shrill w
“Of course, your Highness. It shall be as you say.”
Without waiting for a reply Modrin spurred his horse and vanished from the window. Caeryl stared after him for a moment, then sank back onto her seat. She trembled faintly, but her smile was huge and mischievous.
“There,” she said. “I’m glad that’s settled.”
For a minute Alirah grinned broadly. Caeryl had looked so scared, and now looked so happy, that Alirah could not help but feel proud of her and happy herself. Then the full import of the Princess’ words crystallized in her mind. She will accompany us to Arandinar… I will to present her to my father…
Oh…Great, she thought.
“Will there be anything else, your Highness?” asked Kelorn, mockingly.
“Shut up,” said Alirah.
They sat together inside a large room. The floor and the walls were constructed of gray, evenly hewn stone. Small arched windows were set high upon one wall and had been thrown open to let in cool, mountain air. They’d had to share a room for the night. Having its own garrison to house already, the Arandian fortress of Tarnvir was now filled to bursting with the arrival of the royal convoy. However, a heavy curtain had been hung across one side of the room to create a space where Alirah could sleep in private upon a straw mattress. Kelorn had been given a cot which he’d set up near the door.
Caeryl’s older handmaiden, who was named Irelle, had just brought in a tray of food. She’d curtsied to Alirah and uttered those words. Blushing, Alirah had thanked her and sent her away. Now Kelorn gazed at her with a wry grin.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped. “You called me your Highness until I told you to stop.”
“That was before I got to know you.”
She made a face at him.
He smiled, then sighed, becoming serious again. “And now you’re going to be introduced to the one person above all others who must not learn who you are. And you’re going to be introduced to him as Princess Alirah.”
“I told you it wasn’t my idea,” she said, looking away from him deliberately. She investigated the food which Irelle had brought. Dinner consisted of a bit of masterfully roasted venison, fresh fruit, hard cheese, and warm, leavened bread.
“She seemed to want me to be a princess,” Alirah went on. “She seemed so badly to want a friend. So I thought, why not? I didn’t know she had all the rest of it in mind. And she probably had all that in her head anyway, whether I claimed a title or not. I don’t know. At least now Modrin has to watch what he says to me. And to you, if I have anything to say about it.”
“You won’t,” he said urgently. “Be careful with Lord Modrin! I doubt he would openly defy the Princess, but he is a dangerous man, as I’ve said. There’s no one more powerful in Arandia except King Archandir himself. Don’t make him any angrier than you already have.”
I can’t promise that, thought Alirah. But she sighed and nodded.
All that day she had ridden in the carriage with Caeryl, though long before evening came she had wished she was outside again. She felt hot in the carriage, and sometimes more than a little motion sick. Though cooler air had moved in after the great thunderstorm, the late summer sun was still intense.
As Modrin had indicated they’d joined another column of troops which had been summoned from a nearby fortress called Tarnvir. When Alirah peeped out of the carriage’s windows that afternoon she saw dozens of new horsemen and many more legionnaires on foot. Between the two companies she guessed that the Princess’ escort must now be five hundred strong.
By the time the Arandian convoy reached Tarnvir itself, night had almost fallen. The fortress stood high upon the flanks of the Egarines, above the main bulk of Verusa’s forests and just at the feet of the mightiest peaks in the range. To Alirah’s eyes it looked like an immense stronghold of pale gray stone. But Caeryl told her it was just one of several small border fortresses that Arandia had constructed along its frontier with the Tributary Kingdoms.
When Alirah and Kelorn finished dinner, it was very late. They said their goodnights and made ready for bed. Kelorn lay down on his little cot and was soon snoring contentedly. Alirah retired to her space behind the curtain and lay upon the bed there, but for a long time she could not fall asleep. She felt restless after the day’s long hours of sitting. Also by some trick of geometry, the sounds of people down in Tarnvir’s central courtyard were occasionally taken up and echoed with great clarity through her window. Once or twice as her eyelids were fluttering closed she suddenly heard soldiers walking back and forth and chatting together. Her ears caught every word that they said and every creak and clink of their armor.
She must have dozed off eventually, for all at once she awoke with a start. By the cool, damp feel of the air she guessed it was after midnight. Through the window she heard two slow sets of footfalls and a tapping sound. Alirah pictured two men strolling and speaking together, one of whom had a cane or a staff. At first the sounds were muffled by the stone walls and the distance, but then the men reached whatever spot was sending its echoes up to her. By fate or fortune they paused there in their walk. The footfalls ceased, but at once the voices became louder and clear enough to understand.
Alirah sat bolt upright with a gasp. It was Darion and Modrin that she heard, and they were talking about her.
“What have you learned?” asked Modrin.
“Very little,” said Darion. “The soldiers adore her, and they’re fully convinced that she is a princess.”
Modrin scoffed. “She was no princess when she first stood before me yesterday. She barely looked like a girl.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” murmured Darion.
“It does not matter in any case. Peasant or yokel princess, she seems to be a perfect little vixen. I don’t like to see Caeryl associating with her.”
“Why is that?”
“You know why! Or you should guess. You don’t need to play the simpleton with me, Sir Darion. The King is sicker than he lets on. It won’t be long now before that soft, stupid girl inherits the throne. Then woe betide Arandia, at least if she rules on her own. But as many things as Caeryl is not, she is at least obedient. With the right husband, with the right king, our nation may yet prosper; but only if she has the good sense to defer to him. I don’t want her learning impudence from some peasant trash she happened to pick up. If anyone should understand that, it’s you.”
“Caeryl has not yet declared any intention to me…” Darion began.
“Perhaps not, but she will. Or her intention will be declared for her. Time is short. The people love the idea of the two of you together. Do you really think that a young girl’s whims should be allowed to imperil our Kingdom? Or can it be that you are having second thoughts yourself?”
“I will serve my king and my country,” said Darion flatly.
“Good,” answered Modrin. “But we can discuss all that another time. The important thing tonight is this Druid and his girl. What is she doing with him, and why have they appeared right as we were so brazenly attacked? Why were we attacked, for that matter? The Verusans are an ignorant, uncouth people, but they are not wholly stupid. They must know that Archandir would raze their kingdom to the ground if his daughter were harmed.”
“True,” said Darion. “But it was not the Verusan army that attacked us. It was just some thugs.”
“A hundred and some men is too many for a random brigand of the hills.”
“We carry two thousand pounds of gold and silver with us, to say nothing of the Princess, who they might’ve tried to ransom. A few random brigands probably made frien
“Maybe. But I cannot help thinking that Druid must’ve had something to do with it. Of course, why he should show himself afterwards, I have no idea.”
“They were not involved,” said Darion firmly. “They are telling the truth at least that far, I think. He and the girl have come all the way from Rusukhor, apparently. That’s a long way to go for an ambush in the Black Forest of Verusa.”
“They’ve come from Rusukhor?” Modrin sounded startled.
“Yes. She’s supposed to have singlehandedly defeated some barbarian prince there.”
“She’s supposed to have singlehandedly rescued the Princess as well,” sneered Modrin. “But if they have come so far together, who is she? Why has a Druid spent months bringing a young girl to Illmaryn from halfway across the world? Just because she needs some training in the Sight? I don’t think so.”
“She’s a winsome little thing. He may not find it that much trouble.”
Modrin snorted. “I doubt that boy would know what to do with a woman if she threw herself at his feet. No… There is something more going on here. I don’t believe for an instant that she is royalty, but she must be important in some way. That Druid is up to something.”
Modrin sneered the word Druid as if it were the vilest insult. For a moment both men were silent. Alirah could imagine the First Minister glowering, either at Darion or at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. Finally she heard him give a low growl of frustration.
“We must know more. With Caeryl and the soldiers already so attached to the girl, I’m reluctant to simply have them seized; but I will not allow that woman-worshipper to run back to Illmaryn on who-knows-what errand. Watch them both. The Druid especially. If he gives you an excuse, any excuse, kill him.”
“Yes, Milord,” said Darion.
The sounds of footsteps resumed. Darion and Modrin had started walking again. Alirah heard the First Minister’s staff tapping on the paving stones.
“Do not allow them to leave our company, at least for now. If they try to sneak away, have them arrested and...”
But by then Modrin had moved too far away; the walls no longer sent his voice up clearly. Alirah strained her ears, but she could not make out any more words. For a few more seconds she heard an indistinct murmur, and then even that was gone.
For a long time she sat there, staring up at the window and the little patch of starry sky that she could see through it. She felt herself trembling. Somehow the fact that Modrin suspected her of something sinister did not upset her at all; but to hear him threaten Kelorn enraged and terrified her. Eyes wide with horror, she imagined grimfaced men seizing the young Druid and hauling him off to some dark hole where they’d murder him.
All at once she leapt out of bed and pushed out of her curtained-off area. Kelorn lay as he had before, curled a little on one side. His chest rose and fell evenly and he made a sound half-way between a breath and a quiet snore. She could sense a hint of hesitancy, a hint of a cringe, each time he drew a breath.
He’s still hurting from where Darion hit him, she realized. He’s still hurting because he thought he had to save me. Her first instinct had been to wake Kelorn immediately and tell him all that she’d heard. But now as she gazed at him she could not bring herself to do so.
Why shouldn’t he sleep? She thought. It sounds like we’re safe for now. Why shouldn’t I sleep too, for that matter?
Reluctantly, she tiptoed back into bed and lay there. Try as she might, however, she could not find any rest. For a long time she tossed and turned, now terrified and breathing in quick gasps, now furious and seething. Only when the sky had turned gray outside did sleep steal over her again, and then it was a sleep without rest. She kept on tossing and turning, and now she whimpered softly. In her slumber she found herself locked up in a dark place, unable ever to go home. Through a little, barred hole she could see her parents weeping in the belief that she was dead. In her prison she could hear them sobbing and calling out to her through their tears: Alirah!… Alirah!...
“Alirah?”
She blinked and sat up with a start. Daylight streamed in through the window. Kelorn’s voice called out shyly from beyond the curtain.
“Alirah?”
“Ahh… Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I am. Except… No. I’m not. We’re not.” She leapt out of bed and rushed out to him. He stood just beyond the curtain, hair tousled and eyes heavy with slumber.
“Listen…” she began. Quickly she told him all that she had heard. After she finished he was silent for a long moment. He looked scared and a little sick. Alirah felt a fresh surge of protective anger.
“What’s the matter with him? Why does he hate you so?” she cried.
Kelorn grimaced. “It’s not me personally, I’m sure. It’s just because of what I told you in Caluran. The Priestesses of Illana are seen as the enemies of the High King. So the Druids are seen that way too, by extension.”
“Why are they his enemies?”
“Because the Priestesses represent the old ways. To them, and to all Arandians in the beginning, a king’s power and royalty are things granted to him conditionally by the Goddess. A king’s power has limits, and he only rules so as to serve his people. To the Tyrant Kings and their supporters, a king’s power is absolute and his royalty is his birthright. Because the Priestesses speak against this they are decried as wicked and traitorous women. If the great majority of the common people did not still worship Illana and revere Her servants, the Priestesses and the Druids both would probably have been wiped out years ago. It’s no surprise that Modrin hates me.”
Alirah listened, aghast. “But… Then why did you tell him what you were? Shouldn’t we have kept it a secret?”
Kelorn hesitated a moment, then averted his eyes.
“You had already told Caeryl,” he murmured.
Alirah felt as if she’d been slapped. “I did?”
“When you introduced me to her. So I thought it would be better if Modrin heard the words directly from me, rather than finding out afterwards. She was sure to tell him.”
“It’s okay,” he said, smiling weakly to reassure her. “I should have warned you. I’m used to everyone just knowing these things. And who’d have thought we’d meet the Princess and the First Minister at all, let alone while we were still miles from Arandia. Anyway it was nice to hear. You sounded so proud…”
“Oh, but it’s not okay!” cried Alirah, horrified. “And I told everyone we were at Rusukhor too! It seemed harmless, then, but now it’s obvious they’d find it strange. Oh, I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay, really,” he insisted. “It’s not a crime to be a Druid. Not yet. We’ll just have to be more careful. I guess neither of us is very good at being spies, or fugitives, or whatever we are.”
“But we aren’t spies or fugitives!” protested Alirah.
Kelorn frowned. “Yes we are.”
“No, we’re not! We…”
“Yes we are, Alirah! You are!”
The sharpness of his cry silenced her. For a second she could only stare at him, astonished. Then, suddenly he reached out and grasped her hands. When he spoke his voice was hardly more than a whisper, but it shuddered with emotion.
“You have to understand that you are a fugitive here. You are Princess Alirah, daughter of the true High King! If Archandir finds that out he will kill you. If Lord Modrin finds it out he will kill you. Or he’ll disappear you. He’ll lock you up in a little hole somewhere for the rest of your life. Nobody will ever know what happened to you. I won’t know what happened to you, if I’m still alive! I’ll have to ride all the way back and tell your parents that you’re just… gone.”
Alirah gazed at him, stricken. She’d known all along that her life might be in danger. But now, standing in a strange fortress hundreds of miles from home, the threat seemed much more real. His words brou
Under the nightmare’s assault she turned pale and started to tremble. Tears welled suddenly in her eyes. Kelorn looked aghast. He released her hands instantly and drew back a pace.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. You just… You have to be careful, Alirah.”
“I will be,” she said. She wiped her eyes quickly and tried to compose herself. As she did so his last words of warning sunk in.
“Would you really do that?”
“Do what?”
“Would you really go all the way back and tell my mom and dad if I got killed, or… taken?”
He looked confused. “Well I’d have to, wouldn’t I?”
For several seconds she stared at him, unable to speak. Then she stepped forward and threw her arms around him. She hugged him tight and pressed her face against his chest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
At first he was too stunned to do anything. Then she felt his arms wrap slowly around her and hug her back. The movement was timid, but his arms were strong and warm. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek.
At length the surge of feeling subsided, and Alirah drew away shyly. Kelorn tried to smile, but his eyes looked troubled.
“Well, I certainly don’t want to go all the way back,” he said. “So don’t you go taking me up on the offer. Don’t get yourself killed!”
“Okay. You either,” said Alirah.
An awkward silence fell between them. For a long moment they stood there, both blushing, both looking at the floor. Finally Alirah managed to speak in a soft voice.
“So… What do we do?”
Kelorn let out a deep sigh of relief. “Nothing, for now. We’d never get away if we tried. Modrin’s got hundreds of men available to hunt us down. For now we’d better just go along with them to Arandinar. It’s not that far from Illmaryn, like Darion said. And we were going there anyway. That’s where Lady Aila is. So it won’t do us any harm to humor the Princess. In fact… I’d suggest you become as close with her as you can. She seems to be nice enough, and if Modrin thinks so little of her that’s probably a good sign. Her friendship may be some protection against him and the King.”
“Okay, I will. What will you do, though? Shouldn’t you try to make friends with Caeryl too?”
Kelorn shook his head. “I’m sure she’s been taught that Druids are dangerous and wicked. I doubt she’ll want to have too much to do with me. I’ll just keep quiet and stay out of trouble. I’m good at that, unlike some people I know.”
He smiled wanly at her, and after a moment she grinned back.