Rise of Fire (Reign of Shadows #2)(16)

“Sad to report they were lost, Your Highness.”

“Well, perhaps next time I shall go with you and lend you my sword arm.”

Another voice from atop a horse spoke, this one older, guttural and raspy. “As much as they would benefit from your sword, I do not think your father would permit that, Prince Chasan. He dislikes the risk you take on these hunting forays as it is. He’ll not let you cross into Relhok.”

So he was not the king. He could not have known my parents. My chest deflated a bit then, even as my thoughts raced with the realization that he was a prince, heir to a kingdom. Like me. Or, depending how one viewed it, like Fowler. No one recognized me as a royal. The world thought I was dead.

The prince chuckled. “Don’t underestimate my skills of persuasion.” There was something underlying his voice, a silky quality that indicated that this prince in fact knew how to talk. Confidence radiated from him. Arrogance, too. He was accustomed to getting what he wanted—an anomaly in a world where nothing went right for anyone.

He addressed Breslen again. “It appears, however, you’ve gained two additions to your group. Who is that behind you?”

Fowler’s hand slipped from my arm as all attention swung to us.

“We happened upon them returning home, Your Highness. A surprise for your father.”

“Why should my father be surprised over these two haggard-looking individuals? The bigger one there looks ready to collapse.”

“He’s the surprise, Your Highness.”

“And how is that?”

“He’s King Cullan’s son. Prince Fowler.”

Fowler had held silent during the exchange, but at this declaration he stiffened beside me. I suspected it had been a long time since he’d considered himself a prince—or Cullan’s son. Perhaps even longer since anyone addressed him as such.

Prince Chasan swung off his mount swiftly. He strode to where we stood near the tree, his tread muffled by soft-soled boots. He stopped before us. I listened to his breath several inches higher than my head and knew he was tall. “So this is the prince of Relhok. He doesn’t look well,” the prince announced. “Is he diseased?”

“He is right here,” Fowler growled. “I can speak for myself.”

“Is that so?” Amusement curled the prince’s silky voice. “Are you unwell, then, Prince Fowler? As thrilled as my father will be to make your acquaintance, I don’t think it wise to take someone sick near him. My father is healthy and I would like to keep him that way.”

I bristled at his arrogant tone and opened my mouth to inform him that he need not fear contamination.

“Just a little dweller toxin in the arm,” Fowler replied in a caustic-thin voice that did nothing to disguise the pain he felt. I felt it radiating off him. Standing on two feet, enduring this conversation with any semblance of dignity, was costing him.

“Oh. Toxin? That’s all? I thought it might be something serious.” The prince’s attendants laughed deeply at his sarcastic remarks, and I had a flash of him at court, surrounded by groveling courtiers. He was accustomed to being the center of attention, his every word applauded. My upper lip twitched. Already I did not like him.

“They told us the king’s physician can help him. Cure him,” I bit out, tired of the conversation. We weren’t far from the palace, from help, and here we stood talking.

The prince of Lagonia turned his full attention on me. I felt the prowl of his gaze over me. His scrutiny lasted several beats, intent and heavy. I resisted shrinking away.

“And who are you?”

I couldn’t find my voice at the simple question. I hadn’t picked a fake name. In the last three days, it hadn’t been necessary. No one asked me for my name. They didn’t seem to care about my existence. Only Fowler’s.

Tension radiated from Fowler beside me and I knew he was willing me to say something, and quickly—convince everyone that I was just a boy and no one worth consideration.

“They’re friends,” Breslen answered for me. “He was traveling with the prince when we found them.”

“Indeed?” Prince Chasan murmured, his voice closer now because he had moved closer to me and I had not even heard him. What was wrong with me?

My chin went up. He was so close. I felt his breath on my face, fanning over my cheek and nose and lips. I caught more of the mint I had smelled earlier. “Are you absolutely certain, Breslen, that you’ve found the prince of Relhok? Because I have my doubts.”

Fowler’s breath hitched a little beside me. I don’t know if it was the question or because Prince Chasan lifted his hand right then and tugged my cap from my head, exposing my mud-caked hair to the chilled air.

“Your Highness, I am certain,” Breslen insisted as I suffered the prince’s examination. My skin burned everywhere his gaze brushed—which was all over. “I remember him well from the two other times I visited Relhok City. He put on quite the memorable archery display at court. He’s an exceptional archer. I’m sure once he’s healed he can put on a demonstration for us. Also, I never forget a face. He’s a little older, his face more gaunt, but it’s him.”

The prince stepped back, apparently done examining me. My shoulders slumped slightly in relief to be finished with his scrutiny. He gave a grunt that didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I can hardly see his face beneath the scruff. He needs a good razor. I’m sure he did not look like this at King Cullan’s court. Can you not be mistaken?”