I froze. “Save him? You can do that?”
“It’s not impossible.”
The tension ebbed from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how close I had come to giving up, on ceasing to think Fowler had any hope, until I heard the desperation in my voice.
“It’s possible. If he is King Cullan’s son, I am certain King Tebald would go to great lengths to see that he lived. If . . .”
He let the word hang there, a clear bribe for the truth. I felt their stares then, fixed on me, waiting for an answer—waiting for me to confirm that he was in fact Cullan’s son. I swallowed against the thick lump in my throat. It was tempting. And yet I knew Fowler would have me deny it. Even if it meant his death. He wanted no connection with his father. He’d forged his way, risking death every day without claiming Cullan as his father. It had wrecked him to admit the truth to me. I couldn’t admit it to them.
In the stretch of silence, as though sensing my indecision, Breslen volunteered in his encouraging voice, “Perhaps you did not know the true identity of our companion. But you do now. Your friend here is the prince of Relhok.”
I blew out a breath, clinging to denial by a thread. “This is madness—”
“Indeed. It is most unusual to find a prince stuck in a cave, dying. Most unexpected.” He chuckled lightly. “I’ve been to Relhok City two other times as King Tebald’s emissary. I’ve seen your companion there before. Of course, he was dressed far more grandly at the time. And I seem to recall there were many rumors surrounding him.”
“Rumors?” I murmured because I couldn’t help myself. I knew so little about him, especially the Fowler who had lived in Relhok City—in my place, living the life that should have been mine.
“Yes; he was in love with a girl that his father didn’t approve of. Peasant girl. It was quite the castle gossip. His father was very displeased with him.”
Fowler was in love with another girl? What was the name he’d called for in his sleep? Bethan? Again, another layer revealed proving how much of a stranger he really was to me.
“Don’t worry,” Breslen continued. “Relhok and Lagonia are allies.”
One of the other soldiers snorted and muttered, “Today, anyway.”
Breslen continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “They would welcome Prince Fowler with open arms and take care of him . . . cure him, even.”
My head lifted higher, hope thrumming inside my blood. I gulped a breath and fought to control my racing heart. This could happen. I could get Fowler the help he needed, and once he was in good hands and on the mend, I could continue on my way.
I could still finish this. I had to. An aching heart did not matter. The creeping fear that threatened to consume me around these men didn’t matter either. I had to resist that and fight it as I did everything else. I couldn’t let it conquer me.
“They would treat him?” I pressed.
“Indeed; the king’s own physician would see to his wounds.”
“But he’s been poisoned. It’s not too late? The toxin has—”
“If we get him to Ainswind quickly enough, he can be treated.”
I lifted my chin, letting this sink in, letting hope fuel me and turn me in a new direction. “Very well. Then let’s get moving.”
SIX
Fowler
MY WORLD SWAYED and pitched. I felt like I was still on the boat in the lake outside of Ortley with black waters rolling under me. Even though something gnawed at the back of my mind, telling me that wasn’t quite right, it was the only thing I could cling to.
I wanted to be in that boat, headed to shore, out of immediate danger and returning to Luna. We’d take our kelp and go.
Gripping what I told myself was the side of the boat, I thought of Luna. I thought of the Isle of Allu, a place where dwellers didn’t exist, where she didn’t have to pretend to be a boy; where I didn’t have to be so relentless, where I could be something other than this version of myself.
For a while there, with Luna, I believed I could have that, a sanctuary amid this world. She convinced me of that—not with her words but in her unflagging optimism that life could be something more than pain and blood and a straight line to inevitable death.
A nervous energy buzzed through me. Something wasn’t right. I frowned and angled my head, listening to the wind over water.
“Fowler?”
I cracked open my eyes and looked in the direction of the voice. It was familiar and not. A little like Luna’s voice but different, as though she were speaking to me through a layer of cloth.
Everything was darkness, but that wasn’t different from any other day. I lifted my hand and dragged it down my face, trying to wipe away the clinging fog, as though that motion would be enough to make everything clear.
“His eyes are open,” a voice said. This one was not familiar. It was deeper, and rough as sharp pebbles against my skin.
“Give him some water. See if he’ll take any.”
I blinked and realized they were talking about me.
Suddenly a flask was at my mouth. Water splashed my lips and I drank greedily. In that moment all I cared about was the water, wet relief sliding down my throat.
“Not too much. You’ll be sick.”
The flask vanished and I mumbled a protest, groping for it but seizing only air. The motion sent hot agony sizzling through my arm, a reminder of just how bad things really were. I might not be dead, but the toxin pumping through me would eventually finish me off. But while I was still alive I could protect Luna. With my dying breath, I could try. I couldn’t shut that impulse in me down. It was even more than impulse. I owed her a debt. For my father’s transgressions, for everything he stole from her. I owed her more than I could ever give back. Inhaling, I fought to swallow down the mind-numbing pain and focus on Luna, and making certain she was all right.
I blinked some more and peered into the darkness, searching for her, waiting for my vision to acclimate to the thick, vapory gloom.
There were shapes moving around me. All atop horses. The faint sucking sound of hooves on soggy ground confirmed this. I was atop a horse, my body rolling with its movements, and a thick wall at my back.
I struggled to sit straight, fighting down a wave of nausea and pushing away from the wall with a surge of determination. That’s when the wall came alive behind me. A hand clamped down on my shoulder. I jerked, realizing it was a man. A very big man.
I flung the hand off me and tried to twist around, ready to attack my captor. The colossal hand on my shoulder squeezed tighter, showing me just how impossible that feat was. I shrank under the pressure, as weak as a broken bird.
“Fowler, don’t fight. They’re helping us.” Again I thought the voice belonged to Luna, but it was different. I opened my mouth to speak, but a croak escaped. My mouth was as dry as a barren creek. I worked my throat, attempting to swallow as my gaze sharpened, identifying the gray outline of a figure etched against the darker night. A face stared at me, dark eyes glimmering like coal. Luna.
She sat atop a mount, but she wasn’t alone. A man sat behind her, no bigger than she was. She blocked most of him from view, but I marked his eyes peering over her shoulder at me. They were impossible to ignore.
My thoughts churned like tufts of feathers floating through air, looking for a place to land. The savage urge to reach her seized me, but I held back, remembering I couldn’t even help myself, much less her.