The next morning, right after the break of day, Sebastian was sitting stiffly in Nasira's saddle, his grip on her reins tight and a little shaky. The sandy brown Scorian mare beneath him shook her head, bit and bridle rattling. For the first time since Abby's death, he was on a horse's back and he was quite out of habit.
It was silly. Like all the other children in Laneby, he had been taught to ride at the age of four. He had been a quick learner until Father's crazy old stallion Sham had bucked him off in full gallop. Bruised and in tears, Sebastian had sworn to the Gods to never venture near another horse again.
"Real men don't cry, Sebby." Father had placed him back on the horse without any excuses, ordering him to pull through. "A Lord who can't ride isn't worthy of being a Lord."
Sebastian leant back in the saddle, slowly loosening the reins. Near the western side entrance to the castle, Alex stood talking to Aunt Crystal and Lana. Uncle Tom was there too, but after a quick hug and some words of advice, his uncle had become as much a bystander as he had.
It was a pathetic scene. Uncle Tom and Aunt Crystal had been avoiding each other all night and morning, but here—in the semi-publicness of it all—they were holding hands. The growing crowd on the market square weren't paying them any attention, anyway. There were enough guards and carriages belonging to Lord Simon to block their view.
If anything, the Sundalers were performing unnecessary tricks to catch a few glimpses of him. Their Crown Prince.
Soon he would become even more of a spectacle. It wasn't every day that he left the city on horseback. He wasn't deaf to their whispers. Would he be travelling to the Port to get tutored by Lord Simon? Or making a tour around The Greenlands, as the Princes of old used to do?
"He's such a pretty young man. The mirror of his father, but with his mother's eyes!" shouted one of the ladies old enough to be his grandmother. They had been standing as close to the castle as the guards had allowed them too, securing the only spot to have a proper view on him.
The woman's statement was based on nothing but her imagination. He had seen the paintings of Father as a child. With the round face and rosy cheeks, Father had looked more like a boyish version of Lucy. The old Lanebyers who had known his grandfather always used to claim he was the spitting image of a young Lord Ian, except with black hair instead of light brown.
Aunt Crystal was wrapping her arms around Alex for the umptieth time. She was crying, which made his stomach churn. If it hadn't been for her and Lana jabbering on about whatever girls talked about, he would have already been halfway to Eastpond. Halfway to saying goodbye to Alex, and he still wasn't ready to let her go.
George joined his side. Fiddling with his reins, the General darted a look over his shoulders. "I don't know who's the bigger fool: me agreeing to your uncle's proposition to guard you, or you voluntarily wanting to travel with a woman."
"Alex isn't really a woman," Sebastian said in all seriousness. "And she's my friend. I wanna spend some extra time with her before she leaves. I don't know when or if I'll ever see her again."
"She'll be back by summer, right in time for the tournament. But I get it. I was once young and foolishly in love."
"I don't care what Uncle Tom told you. I'm not in love with her."
"Of course, My Lord." He shot a mocking grin at him. "It's a tale as old as time itself—the lowborn girl stealing the heart of the Prince. Life ain't no fairytale, though. You'll never marry her."
"I'm well aware. And I don't care."
George frowned. "Don't say that when you do care. It makes you look pompous and arrogant—perception is everything." He turned to Lord Simon. The Lord with hair longer than most women was approaching them on his brown stallion with a white spot on his muzzle.
"Any idea how much longer the little show is gonna take?" The Lord of the Port of Diligence asked. "Both my men and animals are growing restless."
"Not too long now. I'm guessing." George engaged in a staring contest with Uncle Tom, which ended with the latter patting Alex on the shoulder and adjusting the brand new quiver strap that had been on her breakfast plate. A present from the General.
"Feeling better, My Lord?" Lord Simon squeezed himself in between him and George. "I've heard of your fever. Must have been quite the scare."
"Yeah, I'm good."
Thanks to Uncle Tom and Healer Mark's secrecy, the rumour that was doing its rounds in the castle was that an inexplicable spike of fever had struck him down last evening. Sebastian was quite happy with that—it was less embarrassing than everybody knowing that he had blacked out and had screamed at things that hadn't been there.
Alex waved at his relatives, then came skipping down the marble stairs where Stable Master Richard was waiting with Billy. As she swung her leg over the saddle, he looked away.
"Are you sure you're alright, My Lord?"
"I'm fine."
This was one of those moments where he just had to pull through, to get used to Billy again.
He didn't regret his decision; it was better for the horse to go. Even back in Laneby, it has always been Alex who had taken him out to ride. Surely Nick had learnt to trot and gallop on Billy, but to him, the stallion had become the replacement for the old rag doll that Fox had accidentally thrown into the river when a silly game had gone wrong.
As Alex approached them, George nodded at Lord Simon, who raised his hand and beckoned his men to get the horses moving. About two dozen of the Lord's men rode in front. The rest carefully waited until they had passed them to close the ranks. On his right, Sebastian was flanked by Alex and the Lord. On his left rode George.
Throughout the city, people stopped as the caravan passed. They pointed fingers at him, whispered their theories of his mission. Countless children gawked at him with their mouths wide open, with a few of them running alongside and waving as though their life depended on it.
At first, Sebastian smiled at them, even waved back. But the streets of Sundale were long, and he quickly grew tired of the constant attention. The small gilded gate turned wider with each clop of the horseshoes on the cobblestones. It didn't matter anyway; apart from a few sour faces here and there, the crowd's enthusiasm remained a constant high.
The city walls marked the end of Sundale and the beginning of a much calmer ride. No more cheering and screaming, only the horses dashing on the sandy road on the right bank of the River Faith. There was a whiff of impending rain in the air, but so far the Gods were keeping their waters.
"My Lord, this is a snail's speed," said a brown-haired man with bronze skin. "At this rate, we'll never make up for the delay."
"I know you and your manhood wish to get home, Benjamin." Lord Simon chuckled. "If I had a wife who spreads her legs as easily as yours, I'd be worried too. Two gold pieces she's warming your brother's feet as we speak."
"Not gonna bet because it's probably true." Benjamin smiled warily.
"That's so wrong," Sebastian huffed. "One should always defy the Goddess of Lust, even more so when one is married. Marriage is a holy vow, sworn to the Gods, and should never be broken."
The bald Lieutenant who rode next to Benjamin glanced over his shoulder. "You know a lot of the teaching of the Fourteen, My Lord, and of marriage too. How old are you?"
"I turn twelve in six moons."
"And you, My Lady?" he asked Alex.
"Oh, but I'm no Lady," she said apologetically, "but I'm thirteen."
"So young. You two believe marriage is all about those butterflies in your stomach and eternal love, don't you?"
Alex nodded. "I don't wanna rush into marriage, and if I do, it will be with someone who stands by my side the way I stand by his. In such cases, yes, I do think eternal love is possible."
"Yeah, like my parents," Sebastian added. There had been a woman at the ball who had made other insinuations, of his father being controlled by the Goddess of Lust, but people said so many things. It was another false rumour—no doubt. "But can't we talk about something else? I don't care about girls or love. Tell me of the Port of Diligence instead."
"I thought you were here to spend some quality time with Miss Alex," George remarked.
Sebastian's cheeks grew hot. "Erm... can't Alex and I ride more to the front or back, just the two of us?"
"I don't think so. You're gonna stay right here in the middle, between Simon and me."
Even though he was out in the open, he was as trapped as within the castle walls. With all those men surrounding him, the journey to Eastpond wasn't quite how he had imagined it to be. Why was it so hard for George to understand that he wanted to talk to Alex without dozens of ears catching what they were saying?
"You don't have to be afraid. I can defend myself." He touched the silver dagger hanging from his belt. Uncle Tom had confiscated the weapon after Sebastian had redecorated the walls of his chamber with it, but just for the day, his uncle had allowed him to take it.
"I can't risk it. His Majesty will chop off my head if anything bad happens to you." The General threw a stoic smile. "And I treasure my head. It may be ugly, but it's the only one I have."
"Come on, George. I won't tell Uncle Tom if you don't either. And all of these people are gonna travel to the Port. Uncle Tom won't see them until the Midsummer Tournament. He won't hear it from them, and by summer, he'll have long forgotten about this."
"If you think that, then you are grossly underestimating him."
"The General is right, My Lord. Allow me to tell you a story to prove it," Lord Simon said, to which Sebastian nodded. "It must have been eight springs ago. A carriage containing twenty thousand pieces of gold was riding from the Port to Sundale. The tax money was last spotted near Rabbit's Paw, then it disappeared, never to be found again."
"How come?"
"A robbery, we believe. However, though your uncle has more than a hundred Lords to manage from all over The Greenlands, yet every season since that day, he sends me a letter to remind me of the coins I owe him. I've refused thus far. The security was his responsibility, and he should have known that—even as a young King. To cut a long story short, I have paid all my other taxes since that day—over a million gold pieces—but His Majesty never forgets about that one carriage. The Scorians would say he has the memory of an elephant."
"Now you're the one nagging about it," George grumbled. "You know our deal, Simon. Bring Alexandra safely to the Islands, and we'll absolve your debt. His Majesty is quite sick of the discussion as well."
"That's more his problem than mine, General." The Lord's voice shifted to a more serious tone. "I only said yes because of the Pirates. My people and ships need to be protected—that's all I care about."
"We're well aware that The Port can't fall into enemy hands. If it does, we can forget ever getting another piece of southern gold. And the casualties..." George inhaled sharply. "Peace is better for all of us."
"I'll make sure I can achieve that," Alex said with a broad smile.
Large treetops appeared on the horizon. Regal Sun Wood was within their reach. Soon the caravan would pass the location of the army camp. As Crown Prince, Sebastian had the power to halt the hundreds of people and allow Alex to say goodbye to Nick. But it was too risky; he didn't want to be forced into a conversation about Billy. Not yet anyway.
Besides, Nick didn't want his comrades to know they were friends. So all in all, it was his loss.
"Shall I fetch Captain Oswald?" The bald Lieutenant asked his Lord as they entered the forest road.
"No, it's fine, Vinnie," the Lord replied. "Let him have his fun with the Sundalers. The patrols back home won't mind having a longer break from his pilliwinks and prangers."
"His what?" Alex let out a small shriek, her nose all wrinkled up. "Excuse me, but what is he doing to the Sundaler Patrols? Our friend... He's there and—"
"Not taking part in that particular game," George muttered. "Orders of His Majesty."
"Why not?" Sebastian asked.
"Since the game involves getting kidnapped at a random moment during the game, I don't think I need to spell it out, My Lord."
"Fox," Alex said.
The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Still, Nick wasn't going to like it one bit. He didn't lose his temper unless people threw enough dirt his way, and then he became the easiest prey to the God of Wrath.
"That's a stupid reason," Sebastian mumbled. "He can take it. Fox was my best friend. Not his."
And yet he had been the one to condemn Fox to die. Not Nick.
"Seb, stop it." Alex leered at him. "You're being a muttonhead."
"Then let me be one."
His chest tightened. This wasn't going well at all. A silence settled between them, with Alex's eyes feasting on a pair of quacking ducks that were swimming along the stream, disappearing under one of the many bridges over the meandering river and then popping back up. It ached to watch her being so incredibly happy when he was not.
A rain so thin came down on them, soaking their uniforms. It appeared as though they were riding through a layer of mist. Every now and then, roaring sounds rose from the trees, which made both their men as those of Lord Simon snigger.
He joined in their laughter though he didn't think the ungodly noises produced by the patrols were that funny. It sounded as though his army was one of beasts instead of men.
His time with Alex was running out. There was still so much he wanted to say to her, but the words were lost in his head. If he didn't know how to talk to her, then it was unthinkable that he could convince her to stay after all.
Not long after the last of the patrols' shrieks, the caravan was halted in front of the largest bridge he had seen thus far. Beyond the bridge, a carriage-high wooden gate announced the beginning of Eastpond, home of some of the crown's biggest criticasters.
"This is a far as we go, My Lord," George said. "Time to say goodbye."
"Can't we go a bit further? We've come this far—it would be stupid not to let the Eastponders see me." Sebastian pursed his lips, mimicking Fox's infamous pout, but not even the real one would have convinced the General. He groaned. "Fine, whatever, I don't care. Can I at least get some privacy?"
"Nope."
Muttering a curse under his breath, Sebastian descended Nasira. He walked up to Alex, who had come off her horse as well.
"Five coppers they're gonna kiss," Benjamin muttered.
"Make it a gold piece," said the bald Lieutenant.
Sebastian wrinkled his face into the dirtiest look he could think of, which neither of the men saw. "I've heard that. My uncle will hear of these insinuations."
"Seb. Please, don't." Alex's fingers were gliding over his back.
"But—"
"Not another word, Muttonhead. You're making this harder than it already is." Alex pulled him close to her chest, causing the thick metal buckle of her strap and his ribs to painfully collide. It was a small price to be close to her. "Gods, I'm gonna miss you so much."
"You don't have to go." His voice cracked. "We could return to Sundale. I'll do everything to be a better friend, give you a better life."
"And it still wouldn't be enough."
"Then when what would?"
"Nothing."
"I don't believe you. There has to be something..."
"Seb..." She curled her finger around a wet strand of hair of his.
His body tingled with sensations he had never had; they were new but he knew what they were. The conversations about marriage, love, and kissing had allowed the Goddess of Lust to transcend into his weakened mind.
He resorted to her sinful power and pushed his mouth onto hers. As their lips touched, the sweet taste of raindrops got mixed with the finest salt of the royal kitchens. Time moved slowly, a shrill whistling but a sound in the background. Screw each and every Greenlander; he only ever needed her by his side.
She pulled herself away, staring at him like an animal that had just been shot. "What's that? What were you doing?"
"Kissing you," he blurted out.
"Why?"
"Because..." He dipped his foot into the muddy pool beneath his feet, wishing to sink in it forever. The Gods of Sin only brought disaster. Why had he believed it would have been different this time? "I thought it would be a good way of saying goodbye. So... yeah... erm... this is me saying 'bye'."
Alex touched her lip, dazed. "Alright. See you in summer, Seb. Give Nick a hug from me and tell him I'll take good care of Billy."
"Alright. I will."
Through his fringe, he watched her placing her foot on Billy's stirrup. A puddingbrain, a porktail, and a muttonhead. He had been stupider than all three combined.
"Time to head home, My Lord." George was calling out from him from the shelter of the maple trees. The rain was coming down fast now, and the look on the General's face predicted thunder and lightning too.
He climbed back on Lana's horse and kicked her twice to turn her around. "Don't cry. Real men don't cry," he whispered to himself. If only real men said how they truly felt. How empty his life would be without her in it.
He waited for the tail end of the caravan to pass him, his eyes set to the ground, but still hearing their chuckles and whispers. The Crown Prince was in love with the girl spy. His Majesty would no doubt give him a good beating. He was a brat, an unruly child, and unworthy of sitting on the throne. Just like his father.
The clopping sound of the caravan's hooves slowly faded into the distance until they were so faint that the blaring wind overpowered them.
"Get here, Sebastian!" George yelled. "And don't you dare look back. In the Gods' names, I forbid you from looking back. You're gonna start bawling and turn into a bigger birdbrain than you already are."
But he couldn't beckon Nasira to move. This couldn't be the end. Alex couldn't leave like this. No, instead of looking back, he was going to do something way better. He pulled the reins and kicked the mare twice.
Nasira sped into a gallop, splashing water into his face. The back of the caravan had just crossed the gate into Eastpond. The thrill of disobedience was rushing through him, reminding him of what true freedom was. He loved it more than the kiss he had shared with Alex.
"Don't stand there like a bunch of useless buffoons," George yelled in the back. "Get him!"
So far for the agility and effectiveness of the Sundale army...
He zigzagged in between Lord Simon's men and carriages. His Lieutenants and Serjeants too startled to intervene. Then as Alex came into view, Nasira stumbled, jerking forward. Before he managed to see what the problem was, he was already a spear soaring through the air.
He placed his hands as he landed on the ground, the impact so heavy he tumbled to his left side, where his dagger was. Although sheathed, the point rammed into his upper leg. He wailed.
Two rough arms pulled him up, keeping him into a lock. "I've got the perpetrator, Gentleman. The bandits are getting younger and younger these days. Fear not—this one won't escape his punishment."
"He ain't no bandit," Alex sneered, her feet making a splattering noise as she jumped off Billy. "He's Crown Prince Sebastian."
"Is he? He looks like a beggar's boy who has stolen a uniform." The man holding him snatched at his hair, forcing his face up.
"I can confirm it," Lord Simon said.
The man had a scar across his nose and from his neck dangled a gold medal. Sebastian stomped on his toes and fell to the ground as he was released. The pain in his leg was spreading fast and making him dizzy.
Alex crouched beside him. "Seb? What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"
"I don't know." He curled up, not wanting Alex or the world for that matter to see him like this.
"My Lord, you need to stand up. Now," George ordered, his voice hoarse and slightly out of breath.
He had no choice but to obey. With a loud groan, he limped onto his feet. His hands were wet with blood and mud, grit stuck into his flesh. Despite the pain, he reached for his dagger and unsheathed it.
Not a single scratch on the iron. Master Harald had spent most of his life complaining about Fox, but he had been a fine blacksmith. He unbuckled his belt. "I want you to have this. It doesn't hurt to have another weapon. Once I'm back at the castle, Uncle Tom will confiscate it again."
"But Lord Brandon and Lady Karen gave it to you."
"And now I'm giving it to you." He handed her the whole thing. "It will be of more use to you than me. I doubt Uncle Tom will ever leave me out of his sight after this."
"Yeah, you screwed up, Muttonhead." She accepted the gift, hesitantly, but fastened the belt around her waist.
George leant over his shoulder and spoke in an aggressive whisper, "The longer you stay, the bigger the crisis with Eastpond will become. I would throw you over my shoulder if you were anyone but the Crown Prince. Get your lousy ass back on that horse, Sebastian. Don't make me repeat myself."
As he looked around, he finally understood the full effect of what he had done. Whereas the Sundalers had been cheering, the Eastponders were quickly gathering to gaze at him disapprovingly, shaking their heads and muttering of the disgrace he was.
"I would almost be inclined to let Ariel become King," muttered the man who had captured him. "What a disgrace."
"Vile blood breeds viler blood still," said an older woman who was leaning on her walking stick. "I never liked Lord Brandon. There was something odd about him."
"There's nothing to see here," George bellowed as he staggered towards Nasira. Her right leg, just above her hoof was bleeding too. "Move—all of you! Don't make me send treasurers to inspect your houses, collect the extra wealth you're hiding. Everybody knows you have it."
As Lord Simon beckoned his men to leave, the Eastponders scoffed away, at the price of more grumbling.
Sebastian joined the General and the Lieutenants back home. His hands stung and his leg hurt tremendously, but he bit the pain away.
The ride back home took thrice as long.
Once in Sunstone Castle, George dragged him to his uncle's office without giving him as much as a breather. As George recounted the tale, Uncle Tom's face changed from concern to full-blown fury. He slammed his fists on the desk, the teacup rattling on its plate and leftover crumbs falling off.
"Fire Healer Mark, send him on retirement—I don't care!" he barked at George. He then leant over, his arms stretched out. "And you, young man, go to your chamber! We'll talk when I've cleaned up the mess you made."
"But I wanna help."
"You can't help. You're a shame to our name." Uncle Tom pointed at the door. "Get out!"
"Yes, Uncle Tom." Sebastian slumped out, each step more painful than the other. One effort he would make to climb his sill, then he didn't plan on ever leaving his pillow castle again.
Only bad things happened whenever he did.