“I’m the Crown Prince”

Letting out a slow deep breath. The time has come for this post. I believe I’ve told you that I’ve had Martin’s story in my head for the last ten years. Meaning, if you’ve met me in the last ten years, Martin has been there, lurking in my thoughts and developing. My first attempt at writing down his story was when I was fifteen, when I sat down in my camp chair at Mormon Bend camp ground in the Sawtooth mountains, next to a river, and started writing in an old notebook my sister gave me (the cover, by the way, was Star Wars, and said “May the Force be with you”). I would be horrified to show that story now.

But ten years of lurking has changed Martin’s story. A lot. The original story was the backbone of the one you read today, though I did have to chuck out a lot of unnecessary bones to find that backbone. Then I started adding other bones, muscles, heart, brain, guts, organs, and personality to create this final version.

The reason why I’ve been going on about the development of Martin’s life is because this next scene, through all the changes, editing, and redoes, has remained. Oh, yes, I still had to add things, make the writing better, but the sequence of events, the players, the things said, they all remain basically the same.

The time has come to give you this original scene. I won’t tell you to enjoy it; you probably won’t like it. To the story and the scene that will change everything.
***********
The next day Martin rode back down Raven Pass. His Rowan had returned the night before when he had called. He was glad his horse was elven and would come when he called. He would have left then but the healer had forbidden it, saying that he needed at least another night’s rest after his poisoning. Not wanting to cause a scene, he obeyed and waited for the next morning.

When he did leave, Sara hugged him again and said nothing as he rode away. Martin found himself constantly looking back until she was out of view. She had promised him that she would have the court ready for him when he finally did return.

And then there was Fred’s farewell. It had been the night before, when Sara had finally left his room. It was then that he learned the reason why the Ghosts were at this pass.

“You might want to warn the queen about the Venterans in the area,” Fred suggested. “I don’t want her to be caught off guard.”

Martin figured that the news of Venterans in the area would be a dim light once he revealed himself to her.

The ride back to the Grelend estates was much like it was a few days before. The sun was shining again, farmers out working in the endless fields. Even the town hadn’t changed much, though the circus was gone and that did seem to make the town more boring. Not that he expected anything exciting, but he wished to see something a bit abnormal, if only to distract him from what he was going to be doing.

When he arrived to the mansion that evening, he found both Thomas and Luke waiting for him in the stables.

“Glad you’re back,” Luke said, holding Rowan’s reigns as he dismounted. “Things have been a bit boring without you.”

“Not for the lack of trying on his part,” Thomas added, grinning. Martin tried to grin back as he pulled his bag off of the saddle. His friends caught his mood.

“Is something wrong?” Luke asked, leading Rowan to his stall. “Did the princess try to flirt with you?”

“If only it were that simple,” Martin sighed. “Several things did happen though. Keep an eye out for Venterans.”

“Why?”

“Because Sara and I happened across about a hundred of them coming over Raven Pass,” he explained. “We got away fine and some Ghosts caught them, but Fred warned me that there might be more.”

“Great,” Thomas grumbled. “Security is already tight. Once the queen hears this news she’s going to be frantic.”

“Oh,” Martin said lamely, taking Rowan’s saddle off. “I’m sure she’ll have something else to occupy her mind.”

His friends paused, giving each other confused looks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke asked, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

Martin sighed, placing the saddle on the stall wall and leaning against it. “Fred made me promise to tell the queen the truth when I came back.”

They blinked. “Reveal yourself?” Thomas asked, digging his finger in his ear. “Did I hear right?”

“How would Fred know?” Luke asked.

“Commander Gillian told him in a letter,” Martin explained. “He told me that I couldn’t hide this any longer. I promised I’d say…” He cringed; he was not looking forward to this. “Would you mind taking care of Rowan for me? I’ve... I’ve got to get this over with before I loose my nerves.”

Walking out before they could stop him, he left them in their stupor. The mansion was just like it had always been. Servants running around getting their chores done, listed men walking to class, in class, or talking with others, guards making random patrols. Martin felt disconnected from them.

I should be happy, he thought to himself, coming to the queen’s office. He was going to be reunited with his mother…

Then why do I feel like I’m facing my execution?

He knew there was a man and his wife inside, their interview with the queen. To be polite, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. As he knew it would be, the couple sat across the desk from the queen, looking up in surprise as he walked in. Abigail herself was a bit surprised, either from his knocking or that he arrived a day early, he couldn’t say.

“Welcome back,” Abigail said, quickly regaining her composure. Martin wondered how long that was going to last. Her attention was returned to the couple. “I’m sorry for cutting this short, but I would like to talk to him about his errand.”

“It’s no bother,” the wife said, smiling. “Another time, perhaps?”

The queen returned her smile. “Of course. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” The couple slipped past Martin, walking at a quick pace. The wife was chastising her husband for his lack of manners, but Martin didn’t really notice. He wished they had taken longer in their farewells.

“You look like you’ve just rode in,” the queen said, eyeing his dust covered clothes. “I trust that Sara is safely on her way.”

“She is,” he reported, wondering how he was going to tell her the truth. Best to get it over with before he lost his nerve. He took a deep breath. “There is something, however, that I need to tell you.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the chairs. He sat down, trying not to fidget, but the queen noticed. “What is it?” she asked, sounding a little concerned. “Something wrong with Sara?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s fine. It’s…” He stopped. This was harder than he thought it was going to be. He had played out this conversation a million times as he rode back from Raven Pass, but he still found it hard to find the words he decided to bring up first. “I… I lied about where I found the Connection.”

Abigail frowned, her concern switching to suspicion. This was not a topic she had been expecting from him at this time. “Then,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing. He could tell that she was thinking he had deliberately kept information about the prince from her. Truthful enough. “Where did you find it?”

“I… didn’t.”

The queen froze, her eyes wide. Martin took a deep breath. It was out. No turning back. He had to explain.

“I’ve had that glove as long as I can remember,” he confessed quickly, staring at his knees, too ashamed about his deception to actually face the queen. “Even on the streets of Loman… I didn’t know what it was until you found it in the bag.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how it got in there. I could have sworn that it wasn’t in there when I gave it to Suit.”

“Martin…” she said, the sound of her getting out of her chair distinct. “Are… are you saying…”

He took one last deep breath before lifting his head and staring into her shocked face. “I’m your son.”

Abigail collapsed back into her chair, her hand covering her mouth. Martin could feel her raging emotions. Shock, surprise, wonder… For a moment there was doubt, but it was quickly replaced with trust. She knew he wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“Say something,” he begged, her silence nearly breaking him.

She shook her head, her mouth open though no words came out. “How can I?” she breathed, staring at him with new understanding. “I don’t know where…”

“You’re in danger! RUN!”

Martin leapt to his feet, immediately opening himself up to the entire mansion. Something was wrong. Very wrong. In that instant, he knew what it was.

“Venterans,” he breathed, knowing that soldiers were coming for them.

“What?” Abigail asked, her emotions too raw to understand what he was saying. “I… don’t…”

“There was a Venter unit over the Raven Pass,” Martin explained quickly, glancing around the room for an exit other than the door. Who’s idea was it to have the queen’s office where there weren’t any windows? “I don’t know how they got here.”

Shouting outside the door made them both jump. Screams immediately followed. Abigail stood up. Her emotions now worried. “How did you know?”

“I can feel them,” he snapped. “They’re coming!” He froze. One was reaching for the door… “No!” he cried, flinging his arm towards the door. The sensation of power raced through his arm and out his fingers. The door locked and held as someone tried to crash through.

“Nice trick,” Abigail said, eyes wide as she felt the magic hold the door.

“I can’t hold it forever,” he grunted, already feeling the magic pull on him. “Tell me there is another way out of here.”

“The cabinet uncovers a secret passage,” she said, finally regaining her senses. She moved out from around her desk. “Can you hold it…?”

BANG!

Martin was thrown back, hitting the queen’s desk, and slumped to the ground. His outstretched hand caught something on her desk, a letter opener, and sliced open. He hissed as he held his hand, the blood seeping through his fingers. Looking up he saw General Terk standing in the doorway, satisfied with what he saw in the room.

General Terk was just as he remembered. Tall, black hair greased back, dark eyes that weren’t quite sane, a commanding presence, dressed in his military best, a chiseled face with a long straight nose, and his expression of superiority.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly to the queen. “I trust your day has been well?”

Martin turned his head to see that Abigail had managed to get back to her feet, her dress and hair a bit roughed from the explosion that opened the door. She held her head high, refusing to look at him on the floor. He knew that she refused to give Terk any clues about what she had just learned. Even checking to make sure he was alright. “It was,” she replied frostily. “Then you showed up.”

“Forgive me for my unexpected arrival,” Terk chuckled, gesturing to the hall outside. “But I thought it might be better for you to be surprised.”

“Surprised is hardly the word,” she said through gritted teeth. “Angry is more like it.”

“Perhaps,” Terk agreed, finally looking down at him. Martin stared back, feeling himself start shaking with anger. This man was the one responsible for his face changed, why he had lived on the streets, why he now had to understand powers. “I remember you,” Terk said, frowning. “You were that spy at Fort Pinewood…”

“Actually,” said a voice behind Terk. The person who spoke entered the room, stepping over scraps of wood. Martin recognized the man, a former servant who was revealed to be a spy from the girl they caught. “He’s a Ghost. Name is Martin.”

“Ghost?” Terk mussed, thoughtfully looking down at him along his long nose. “Suit understaffed these days? Doesn’t surprise me. You must tell me how you managed to escape. You have no idea how frustrating it was when we couldn’t find you.”

“He’s also on the list,” the spy added, grinning. Terk raised an eyebrow.

“Truly? Well, then we must get him to the others.” Snapping his fingers, two other guards dressed in Aeternan uniforms barged into the room. Terk pointed at him. “Put him with the others,” he ordered. “And be extra careful. Ghosts can be tricky.”

Martin couldn’t protest as they walked over to him, roughly grabbed his arms, and yanked him up. They half dragged him away. Martin looked back briefly at the queen, seeing her face pale before he out of the office.

He didn’t fight as they took him away. His training kicked in as he thought over the situation. It was useless to try to fight the two men who had him. While they wore Aeternan uniforms, he knew they weren’t Aeternans. He also didn’t know what else was happening throughout the mansion. He could tell there was panic, worry, fear. But…

Where are our normal guards?

They took him to the ballroom and threw him inside. Martin stumbled as he regained his balance, glaring at the door as it slammed shut. Turning around, he looked around the ballroom. The room hadn’t been used much since Grelend agreed to house the men. Security had to be kept and that meant no parties, much to the neighbors’ disappointment. It was a large room, with a raised stage at one end. There was a balcony above the grand staircase where the band usually played. Now it housed archers with their arrows pointed at those below, ready to fire.

It seemed that Terk was determined to get everyone into the room. Servants, listed men, even a few townsmen were stuffed inside. Martin hoped that there weren’t going to be many more people thrown in. It was crowded as it was.

Checking his hand, he saw that he managed to slow the bleeding but it hadn’t stopped yet. Pressing his other hand on the wound, he snaked through the crowd, searching for his friends. It would only make sense that they would have been caught as well. He found them standing near the stage. His tent mates were also with them. Sona had her back to him when Thomas noticed him and pointed him out. She spun around and gasped when she saw his bloodied hands.

“What happened?” she asked, quickly taking his hand and checking his wound. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

“We ran into some Ghosts who agreed to take the princess the rest of the way,” Martin said, flinching as she pulled on the wound. “I was in the queen’s office when they captured us.”

“They’ve captured the queen?” Jordan asked, paling.

“This needs washed,” Sona muttered.

“We don’t have water,” Luke pointed out.

“Then we’ll need to at least bind it,” she snapped. Squatting down, she took the hem of her dress and ripped a strip off. Jordan turned away, his face suddenly turning red while Var watched excitedly. However, the strip she ripped off wasn’t much and when she stood back up, the new hem barely showed her ankles, much to the glassmith’s disappointment. She wrapped the cloth around his hand, tying it tightly.

“Thanks,” he muttered, getting his hand back.

“So what are we going to do?” Calvin asked, eyeing the archers in the musicians nest. “I assume you sp…” He stopped, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “You have an escape plan?”

Martin shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t even know how this happened. I just got back less an hour ago.”

“I think I know,” Luke said. “Today Commander Bentley was called out to the outer army. Some disciplinary problems. While he was gone, our guards were replaced. Normal procedure that I could figure.” He hesitated. “But I didn’t recognize them. I didn’t think of it, though. They’re always replacing the guards. I couldn’t keep track of everyone.”

“They aren’t Aeternans,” Martin said darkly. “Fred warned me that there have been a few Venter units moving in this area. He suspected that they were trying to find us.”

“Well,” Var snorted. “They’ve found us. What are we going to do now?”

“We are too many to escape,” Martin mused. “If one of us could get out and warn Bentley what has happened…”

“You should go,” Luke immediately said, his face grim. “You have the best chance. I mean…” He paled, realizing something. “Did you manage to tell the queen…?”

Martin cringed. “She knows.”

Sona frowned, looking at both of them. “She knows what?”

Martin sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to tell her too.

“Knows what?” Sona insisted, now looking at him. The guilt must have been on his face because she suddenly gasped, her eyes wide. Her emotions hit him. She finally figured it out. Taking a step back, she shook her head. “You’re…” She shook, anger slowly taking her. “When were you planning on telling me?”

“Sona,” he tried say, the regret easily heard in his voice. He tried to take her hands, but she slapped his hands away.

“When, Martin?” she snapped, her eyes flashing.

“Today,” he said softly, his shoulders slumping. “I swear! I was going to tell you today after I talked with the queen.” The pretty researcher shook her head. Disbelief, anger, and pain flittered across her features as she took another step back. His tent mates watched the exchange, completely confused.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

“A long story,” he sighed. “Now is not the time to relate it…”

The grand doorway burst open and Terk swept into the room. Behind him the queen walked, her head held high. She wasn’t tied, but there were two large men in Aeternan uniforms who flanked her, guards so she wouldn’t escape. The crowd hushed into silence, a few sniffles heard throughout the room. They parted at Terk headed the small party to the raised stage. Once they were on the stage, a wood theater throne was brought up and the queen forced to sit. She glared at the two men who kept a hand on her shoulders. Satisfied, the Mad General turned to the audience.

“Welcome,” he said, grinning down at them. “I am assuming most of you know who I am and why I am here.” He snapped his fingers. One of the spies they had caught rushed up onto the stage, holding…

“This glove,” Terk said, holding aloft the Connection, “belongs to a man here. I want that man who does to step forward.”

“He may not know who he is,” Abigail snapped, her frame ridged.

“I don’t think so,” Terk said softly, though his voice carried over their heads. “My mages assure me that your son has been using his unblocked powers. Deliberately. He wouldn’t be using it if he didn’t know who he was.”

Abigail started to argue when Luke leaned in close to Martin’s ear.

“I have a poison on me,” he whispered. “If I could get close enough to Terk, I can bring him down.”

“Luke,” Martin hissed, barely paying attention to the argument on the stage. “That’d be suicide. He won’t let you get that close.”

Luke winked, giving him a wide grin. “I’ve got to provoke him to letting me close.” He strolled for the stage, a confident bounce in his step.

“Luke!” Martin tired to urge back, but his friend wasn’t listening. He went to grab the tall spy when Thomas and Sona were at his sides, pulling him back.

“It’s the best plan we have,” Thomas whispered in his ear. “We can’t let Terk get you.” Martin glared at the duke but stopped struggling. He still thought it was a bad idea but Luke did have the best chance at killing Terk.

“Hey, you!” the tall spy said, pointing up to Terk on the stage. The Mad General stopped arguing with the queen to frown down at him. “Yeah,” Luke said, slipping into an underclass accent, “I’m talkin’ ta you! Think you’re gonna git away with this? Threatenin’ our queen? Our prince? I’ve got some news for ya! We’re Aeternans and we ain’t takin’ your crap!”

A cheer slowly roared through the crowd. Martin knew their emotions. Most of them were still scared, but Luke’s words sparked their fire. He stared those around him, stunned by their willingness to fight. No, he thought, you don’t want to fight for me… You don’t know me…

I’m the one who is supposed to fight for you.

“Oh?” Terk asked, glaring down at the tall spy. Luke leaned against the stage, grinning. “You think you can take me and my army?”

“Why not?” he asked, smirking. “Shouldn’t be too hard ta take ya. Considerin’ that ya don’t know how ta do a proper fightin’.” There were laughs and ooh’s over his comment. Luke looked very proud of himself.

“Very well,” Terk said, his tone low. He snapped his fingers. “Bring that man up here!”

Two guards appeared and grabbed Luke by the arms. The tall spy made a good show at protesting their “manhandlin’” as they brought up onto the stage. Terk had his back to the spy, his arms folded across his chest.

“Very brave of ya,” Luke taunted, yanking himself free of the two men. He casually rubbed his hands together, slipping the poison dart out from his sleeve. “Yur back turned on an enemy. Too afraid ta deal with a real man?”

Terk spun around, whipping his sword out, and rammed it into Luke’s stomach. The tall spy gasped in shock, slowly looking down at the blade. Terk pulled it from him and blood blossomed on his shirt. Luke collapsed on the ground. With a look of disgust, the Mad General kicked Luke off the stage. The spy landed with barely a cry face first.

“NO!” Martin screamed. He felt that blade in his own stomach! He ran for his friend, dropping to his knees beside him.

“Let that be a lesson to the rest of you!” Terk snapped, pointing his bloody sword down at Luke. “I will kill anyone who tries to oppose me!”

Martin wasn’t listening. He turned Luke over, reaching for the gut wound. “No,” he breathed, tears coming to his eyes. It was a wound that would kill Luke. “No… No!”

“Martin,” Luke coughed, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. He tried to smile up at him. “This isn’t your fault…” Martin shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have gone up,” he whispered through his clogged throat. “I should have stopped you.”

“No,” Luke chuckled, turning into a cough. “You shouldn’t. I accepted this… Not your fault… Remember me, will you? I expect a kid named after me…” He sighed, the life fleeing him. “Not your fault…” His eyes slid closed, his last sigh almost inaudible. Martin stared, horrified. He felt the life leave his friend’s body. Shaking, he looked at his hands, covered in his friend’s blood.

“No,” he whispered, too numb to even register what was happening around him. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…”

Above on the stage, Terk was shouting again. There were people crying, there were screams. Martin lowered his friend’s body, his frame now shaking. Not from sorrow. But from anger. Slowly standing up, he glared up at Terk. The Mad General was waving that bloody sword around, ranting about something.

Martin’s feet moved without him thinking about it. Before he could stop himself he was on the stage, the guards too busy fighting off the crowd. Terk turned around only when he got close, too late seeing his arm pulled back.

POW!

Terk was sprawled on the ground, holding a broken nose. Martin’s fist ached from impact, but he didn’t care. He had to act now! He drew his arm back for another blow.

Guards were suddenly on him, pinning him to the ground. Martin tried to fight back, but there were too many. They soon held him down, knees bent underneath him, twisting his arms behind his back. He struggled against their hold, but they kept him from moving any more than an inch.

“Brat!” Terk spat. The Venter general had gotten to his feet and was holding his nose, stemming the flow of blood. “I’ll make you pay for that!” He turned to the audience.

“I’ll give the prince one last chance to come out!” Terk yelled. “If you don’t come out, I will kill every man, woman, and child in this room!” Martin froze, the meaning of Terk’s words finally piercing through his anger. Looking out over the crowd, he saw women weeping, men holding their wives protectively. The fight Luke had instilled in them had vanished the moment he was killed. In his mind’s eye, Martin saw blood on all of them. Their blood. On his hands.

“No,” he breathed.

“I’ll count to three,” Terk was saying. “Then I’ll kill someone else. One!”

“No,” Martin whispered. This couldn’t be happening.

“Two!”

“No.” It wasn’t supposed to be this way!

“THREE!”

“NO!” Martin yelled. “I’m the crown prince!”

Terk froze. Slowly turning around, the realization lit his eyes. “What?” he asked softly.

“I’m the prince!” Martin snapped, glaring up at the Mad General. “Me! Martin Santer! I’m the one you want! Leave these people alone!”

“Bring his right hand forward,” Terk ordered. Martin grunted as the guards twisted his hand forward. Terk knelt down and put the glove on his right hand. As always, it fit perfectly.

“It is you,” Terk breathed, grinning. “Only the Santer can wear their Connection…” Martin’s other hand tingled uncomfortably. Terk noticed his brief glance at his other hand.

“Remove that bandage,” the general ordered. The guards did so. Martin couldn’t see what was happening, but he knew it. The cut he got earlier was closing up, healing. Those who stood close enough gasped in surprise, whispers spreading out behind them.

Terk stood up, laughing. “He is the crown prince!” He laughed for a full minute before claming down. Still grinning, he looked down his long nose at him. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“I bet,” Martin snapped. “Too bad that I’ve always got away, now isn’t it?”

The laughter in Terk’s expression vanished, replaced by anger. “Not this time.” He spun his sword around and hit him on the side of the head with the hilt. Martin dropped to the ground, everything suddenly black.
*************
“NO!” Abigail screamed, watching as they dropped Martin. Her son had been knocked unconscious. She tried to rush to him, but her guards held her back, trying to force her back into the wooden throne. “Leave him alone!”

“I don’t think so,” Terk growled, half turning to her. He still held his nose, blood dripping onto his shirt. He snapped his fingers. Another man came to the stage, holding…

“The Inhibitor,” Abigail breathed. The last time she had seen one was nearly a year before, when she was told that Martin had recovered something of worth to the Santers from a Venter war camp. It was a small silver ball with no seams. They were going to block his powers again!

“Don’t touch him!” she yelled, trying to yank free of her captors. “He hasn’t done anything to deserve this!”

“I’d beg to differ,” Terk snapped. He turned to the other man. “Block him,” he ordered, jerking his head to where Martin lay unconscious. The man nodded and knelt down next to her son. He fiddled with the ball for a moment before touching it against Martin’s gloved hand. Martin jerked violently. Abigail felt tears on her face as she watched the ball glow as the magic followed out of her son into it. After a minute, the man pulled the ball away and Martin lay still once again.

“Get to work on that,” Terk said, kneeling down and ripping the glove off of Martin’s hand, then stood up. “I want a permanent block on him.”

“It may destroy his mind,” the man said, taking the glove.

“I don’t care,” Terk snapped. “I want it done!” The man bowed quickly and left the stage.

“No!” she yelled. “Leave him alone!” Terk ignored her cries, ordering instead one of his men to pick the prince up. The large man lifted Martin up and swung him up over his shoulder. Motioning them to follow, Terk led the way back through the crowd. Abigail weakly fought as they made her follow after, her eyes focused on Martin. He was limp over the man’s shoulder, his head bobbing. The crowd parted as they walked through them, disbelieving stares, tear streaked faces, heads shaking. No one tried to stop them.

When they reached the door, the guards stood waiting for them. Terk stood by and watched satisfied as Martin was carried out. When she came to the door, he held up a hand and stopped her.

“I don’t think we should bring the queen along,” Terk said, smirking. “We have no purpose for her anymore. Leave her.” The guards holding her shoved her into the crowd. Hands were quick to grab her out of her fall. Abigail pushed them away and rushed for the door.

“No!” she screamed, watching the doors close on Terk’s smiling face. It shut with a boom. She slammed into the door, banging her fists against the wood.

“Leave him alone!” she yelled, her initial strength giving out. She could only weakly pound on it now. Sobbing, she slid to the floor, banging her head against the door.

“No,” she sobbed. “Leave him alone.”

They had taken her son again and she couldn’t do anything.
***********
I’m sorry Luke. The only reason I created you was to kill you.

Confrontations

So, did everyone enjoy the little twist from last week? Hee, hee, hee. I personally loved it. Now to the story!
*****************
Jonathan knocked on the door to his room. It creaked open and the healer’s eye could be seen through the crack.

“Thank the Seven Founders,” he breathed, opening the door wide enough to allow him in. “I thought you were the princess. She’s been by three times already, trying to see him.”

Jonathan found himself chuckling. That was his daughter. Headstrong and very stubborn, just like her mother. No doubt she wanted to see the man who had saved her life. His chuckle tapered off as he remembered who exactly her rescuer was.

“How is he?” he asked softly, closing the door softly behind him. He refused to look in the direction from where the moans were coming from. It would be unseemly for him to break down in front of the healer.

“I’ve done as you asked,” he said, glancing towards the bed. “But I don’t know how much longer I can take watching him…”

“I understand,” the king assured the healer, clapping the man’s shoulder. “I’ll watch him for the rest of the night.” The healer eyed him suspiciously.

“Are you sure? You look tired yourself.”

“I can’t sleep right now,” Jonathan confessed. “Might as well do something useful. Go, I’ll be fine.” I hope.

Still suspicious, the man nodded briefly and left. Once the door was closed, Jonathan sighed and finally turned toward the bed. The sight that greeted him was one that he was expecting, but at the same time not. Martin lay atop the bed, his shirt taken off and his limbs tied to the bed frame. He thrashed in his enchanted sleep, his head rolling from side to side as he moaned. His skin glistened with sweat as his body tried to rid itself of the poison.

With another sigh, the king pulled a chair to his son’s bedside, sitting down. He ignored his protesting knee as he looked on his son’s face, remembering how they had met.

For years after his son’s disappearance, Jonathan had the strangest of feelings to go to Loman. He had always brushed the feeling aside; at times the feelings were annoying, but so easily ignored. Then one day the feeling suddenly slammed him, a burning demand that he had to go to Loman. At the time, Jonathan wondered why he had to go, but finally relented. He knew, however, that he couldn’t go as the King of Aeterna, so when he ordered Aaron Gillian to sail for Loman, he entered the ship as Fred Chief, a name he always used when he didn’t want people to know he was king.

Once he arrived to Loman, he was still confused about why he had to be there when he caught a street urchin stealing food from the Aeternan embassy. It was then, as he held the child up watching him fight to get out of his grip, that he knew this was the reason why he needed to come. To save this child with so much fight, so much determination. He had given the child the option to come to Aeterna and the next day they sailed back to Aeterna.

Jon smiled as he remembered the trip. They had cleaned up the urchin who called himself Martin, cutting his hair, giving him proper clothes, fed him. Everyone on the ship fell in love with the child they saved, showing him the ropes of sailing. Martin had been nervous at first from all the attention, but by the time they reached Aeterna he had overcome his shyness and was a regular part of the crew.

And then we came to the Stand, Jon thought, sobbing quietly as he remembered the nightmare Martin was currently reliving. The king had some business he had to attend to at the prison fort so he had let Martin run around the Stand by himself. Early that evening, the same demand that made him go to Loman hit him again. Instead of Loman, however, he knew that the child was in danger. He ordered a frantic search to find Martin. They spent nearly all evening trying to find him when they finally found an abandoned warehouse where he was being held.

The sight still horrified Jonathan to this day. The boy was unconscious, laying on his stomach, his back… The king shivered. It wasn’t a back at all. It was blood and muscle. He remembered clearly as the man who stood over Martin held a something in his hand, ready to bring it down on the poor child again. Jonathan didn’t think then. He just acted. The sword was in his hand. The next thing he remembered was the thief’s body toppling to the ground, his head rolling off in another direction. The others who were with him were busy capturing the other man. Jon didn’t care. His attention was on the boy, who was just barely alive.

The rest of that night was vague to him now. He knew someone had covered Martin up and took him to the nearest healer. Later they would be informed that, while the healer had done what he could, the best care for the boy would be found in Nacre. He knew that they had interrogated the old fortuneteller about why they had kidnapped Martin, but the old man died laughing, having taken a poison to escape their punishment. The man said that they were the fools. They didn’t know who Martin was. They didn’t know how important he would become one day.

I guess we know now, Jonathan thought with a sigh, watching as Martin tried to fight the poison in his veins. Glancing around, he saw a bowl of water and a wet cloth on the floor. Wringing the cloth out, he started wiping the sweat from Martin’s brow, tears coming to his eyes.

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” Jon whispered. “I should have seen.”
*************
It was a long night watching Martin. Jonathan had spent the night trying to piece together what had happened in the last few years and how he was now going to help his son. As much as he could figure Martin had just learned he was the prince within the last couple of years. Jon had only known in the last six months that the Alex was keeping a secret that was making his life difficult. And he thought he knew the reason why Martin didn’t reveal himself either.

From the very beginning, Martin had been mistrusting of things given to him. As a street urchin he had learned that gifts always came with a price, an often unpleasant price. He had learned that he needed to work for everything he had and to fight to keep it. And the spying teachers had done nothing to remove that instinct from him. A spy was supposed to be mistrusting. Martin probably thought he could work out how to be the prince himself because the price of help might be something he wasn’t willing to pay.

But that’s not what’s going to happen, Jon vowed to himself. He was going to help Martin, even if the spy didn’t want it. It would be better if he fought against his help. He’d still fight for his way.

It was mid morning when the sound of rain on the roof finally started to lessen. Jon glanced at the window, seeing the sunlight filtering through it. He remembered that it had rained the last time Martin was poisoned with Nightmare Dust. I guess he can affect the land. He had some ideas about how to help his son control that power.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Martin groaning. His son rolled his head to the side one more time, scrunching his face was he opened his eyes. His personal nightmare was over.

“Hey there,” Jon said, trying to smile. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” he grumbled, “and thirsty.” Chuckling, Jon untied Martin from the bed and got a glass of water for him. His son had sat up and sipped at it for a bit before gulping it down.

“Ugh,” he said, handing the glass back. “I hate getting poisoned.”

“You’ll be hard pressed to find someone who does,” Jon teased, handing Martin a shirt. The spy took it gratefully and started to put it on. Jonathan cleared his throat. It was time to confront his son. “I got the letter from Commander Gillian yesterday.” Martin froze, his arm almost through his sleeve. He didn’t even looking at him.

“Martin,” Jon said as softly as he could, though he couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His son slowly finished pulling his arm through the sleeve and began button up his shirt. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, looking away. “Not at first.”

“I figured that much,” Jon chuckled weakly. “I meant after you found out.”

Martin didn’t answer right away, but finished buttoning his shirt. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the ceiling. “I was afraid that you’d…” He stopped, dropping his head. The king could see the pain in his son’s face.

“You were afraid that I’d abandon you,” Jon finished. Martin didn’t answer. With a sigh, Jon slumped in his chair. “You’ve been here for over nine years and we still haven’t taken the street urchin out of you.” Martin just turned his head away. Jon knew he was one of the very few people Martin trusted. He may not talk about it, but his son was terrified of losing those he did trust.

“Martin,” he sighed, sitting back up and leaning forward. “I will never abandon you. Especially not for this. I can’t abandon you when you so obviously need help.” Martin shook his head, smiling a bit. Jon also smiled. “It’s going to be a difficult road for you,” he went on. “But I am going to help you. I didn’t spend the last nine years helping only to leave you when you need me most.”

“How can you help me, Fred?” Martin asked, finally turning his head to look at him. There was a smile still on his lips. Jon felt a small cut on his soul because he knew the meaning of that smile. Martin was truly relieved that he wasn’t going to be abandoned. “Not even the queen and Sara understand…” He sighed. “Did Gillian explain my powers?”

“He mentioned it,” Jon said. “And I learned about the Renewal spell. Perhaps you’re right that they can’t teach you, but you still need help.” He paused. Here he was lecturing Martin about letting others help him about his heritage when he himself was hiding his. “I grew up with Jonathan.” That lie felt strange on his tongue. “I learned a few things from him about Santer powers. I think I’d be a better resource than going about it on your own.”

Martin frowned at him; he could see where this conversation was going. “The queen won’t like it if you drag me away from her.”

“I’ll deal with her.” That was a conversation too long put off and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Suit won’t like it.”

“Bah,” Jon pushed aside, waving his hand dismissively. “Suit’s a proud man that needs humbling.”

“They’re going to demand things from me.”

“You’ve met demands before.”

“I’m terrified.”

Jon paused. He wasn’t expecting that resistance. He watched Martin’s expression closely. Martin had an excellent mask when he didn’t want people to see his emotions, but it wasn’t there now. There was fear in those hazel eyes, his face lined with worry that had never been there before. He truly was terrified of being the prince.

“We’ll work on that,” Jon promised him. “You’re not ready to be a prince yet and we shouldn’t expect you to. When you’re better, you’ll go back to Grelend’s, tell the queen the truth, and then return to the Tree. I’ll meet you there and we’ll leave. I will explain things to Suit and Abigail so that they won’t interfere with your training.”

Martin thought about the plan. “I still say that they aren’t going to like it.”

“The plan doesn’t require them to like it,” Jon pointed out. “This plan is about you and what’s best for you. I don’t want to throw you into Nacre without having you prepared for it.”

Martin was going to reply when the door suddenly burst open then slammed closed. Turning around, Jon saw the healer, breathing hard as he leaned against the door.

“The princess is right insistent on seeing him,” he explained apologetically. “I don’t know if I can hold her off for much longer!”

Jon frowned. Another person in his life who thought he was dead. He wanted so badly to hug his little girl again, talk to her, tell her that he loved her. But it was for her safety, and his, that she still believed in his demise at Fort Bree. The worst part of this identity is keeping those I love away.

“Tell her that she can’t see him until after he’s eaten,” he suggested, knowing he needed to slip away soon before she saw him. “If she wants, she can help get his breakfast.”

The healer nearly sobbed. “Alright.” Taking a deep breath, he left, closing the door behind him.

“I feel sorry for that man.”

“You don’t want to deal with the princess yourself,” Martin figured out, smirking.

“Can you blame me?” Jon asked, pointing to the door. “She really wants to see you.”

Martin squirmed. “Um. That’s because I had to use my powers to escape… She knows.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. That defiantly explained Sara’s persistence. “Then I should leave while she’s gone.” He stood up and gazed down on his son. “Will you do as I asked? I want to help, but you’ve got to let me.”

Martin sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I will. I’ll try to arrive at the Tree in two weeks, with a very frustrated queen at my shoulder.”

Jon patted his shoulder, knowing just how difficult it would be for his son to approach his mother. “You’ll be fine,” he promised. “I won’t fail you again.”

“You’ve never failed me, Fred,” Martin said. There was honesty and confusion in his voice. His son truly believed what he said.

Jon tried to smile, but he knew his sorrow was etched in his features. “I have too. I’m just good at covering it up.”
**********
Martin had just finished swallowing the last bite of his breakfast when Sara burst into the room. She was dressed in what looked like a messenger uniform of the Ghosts, her hair cleaned back into its normal blond and braided. Setting his tray aside, he exchanged worried looks with the healer.

“I know I can see him now,” Sara snapped before the healer could protest. “He’s done eating. I’ll like to talk with him now.”

“What did you do?” the healer asked him, picking up the tray.

“I did something she wasn’t expecting.” Fred may have wanted him to reveal himself to the queen, but that didn’t mean he had to tell people before he told her. “I promised to explain.”

“In private,” Sara added, fists on her slip hips. “If you don’t mind?”

“I’m glad I’m not you,” the healer said, rolling his eyes. Bowing to the princess, he left, closing the door softly behind him. The moment the door was closed, Sara jumped on the end of the bed, folding her legs beneath her. If she had been wearing a dress instead of pants, it would have been extremely improper.

“You promised answers,” she said bluntly, elbows on knees and chin on hands.

Martin sighed, slumping back on the headboard. “I did.”

Sara glanced around the room and spotted the ropes that were used to bind him to the bed. “Did they tie you up?” she asked, frowning.

He shrugged. “They had no choice. I assume you know about Nightmare Dust?” Her face paling was all the answer he needed. “Then let’s just say that in my worst memory, I fought back. If they didn’t tie me up, I would have hurt someone.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “I refuse to say what my nightmare was. It is a private matter that has nothing to do with my being your brother.”

Sara slowly closed her mouth, staring. It was the first time he said he was her brother. If he hadn’t been dreading this conversation, he would have laughed at her ridiculous expression.

“I have so many questions,” she finally said. “I don’t know where to start…”

“Usually I start at the beginning,” Martin said softly. With a tired sigh, he told her. He told her about how he hadn’t known what the glove was, how he hadn’t found it in a Venter war camp. He talked of the Stand and the real reason why the Seacats and Venter navy were there. He explained that he was trying to understand his powers. He even explained about the promise Fred made him make earlier that day. Sara just sat there, listening to him, never interrupting his narrative. When he finally finished, she was silent for a moment.

“When were you planning on telling us?” she asked quietly. “Before that Ghost general made you say you’ll reveal yourself when you get back. You didn’t say.”

Martin flinched. “I really didn’t know. I’ve thought sometimes that I’d reveal myself after the war is over…”

“But that could take years!” she protested, sitting up straight.

“I know,” he said dryly. “Years I could take to understand my powers.”

She frowned. “I’d say you already have a knack for it, especially after our escape last night.”

He shook his head. “A small part. It’s difficult to explain. The rain last night? I caused that. I don’t how, other than I know it happened the last time I was poisoned with Nightmare Dust, but it happened. What will happen if I really get hurt and not suffering from a nightmare? And then there have been times that I’ve been forced to do something, or voices warning me.” He shook his head again. “I don’t understand it.”

“Aeterna,” Sara whispered, her eyes wide.

“What?”

She shook her head, ridding herself of her shocked expression. “I’m sorry. It’s always been easier to explain to people that Santers have power. That’s… not quite true. You’ve heard that the Seven Founders merged the magic of the land to the Santer line?”

“I’ve learned of it,” he said, remembering his early courses in Aeternan history. “The two magics blended to the point that the two magics became one.”

“What’s not really mentioned,” Sara went on, “is that… the magic of Aeterna… is still kinda separate. Linked? Yes. Unable to separate? Unquestionably. But a part of it is still independent from us and it has a personality. We tend to call it the Spirit of Aeterna, or just the Spirit. If I’m lucky, I might get an impression from the Spirit, but it sounds like you get to talk to it.”

Martin frowned at her, remembering the times when he heard those voices. He had been in danger both times; one was an answer to his plea for help and the other warning him of danger.

“See?” he said. “I didn’t know that. I need to learn.”

“And you were going to learn by yourself?”

He snorted. “I’ve learned by myself for years now.”

Sara sighed, slumping down. “I don’t know you at all, do I?”

Martin smiled at her sympathetically. “Not many people do. I’m too used to being alone.”

“You shouldn’t have been,” she whispered. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck again, hugging him and crying on his neck. Martin stiffened, unsure what he should do. Hesitantly he patted her back, uncertain what else to do. When her sobs finally stopped she pulled back, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to smile. “You were right about me. I am a spoiled brat.”

Martin laughed. “Yes. Yes, you are.”
*************
I’m sorry if this post seemed a bit… rough. I didn’t have much time to editing. But I think it’s fine for now. Perhaps I’ll rearrange things later when it’s been sitting in my brain for a couple more months.

Next week’s post is going to be big and I’m not talking about in length. Enjoy the journey!

Fred’s Secret

Oh, my, oh my. A lot happens in this post. Poor, poor Martin. I’ll not leave you in suspense and just jump into the story.
***********
He was flat on his back when he finally came around. His head throbbed from where he got hit, but the rest of him seemed alright. Slowly opening his eyes, he vaguely saw what looked like a wood ceiling, then a face suddenly appeared. Sara gasped.

“Martin!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “You’re alright!”

“I will be when I sit up,” he grumbled, gently pushing the princess away. With a groan, he managed to sit up and took a chance to look at their surroundings. They were in what looked like a small wooden shed, the boards of the walls and ceiling ill-fitted with gaps just big enough to let light in. Judging from the flickering lights outside, he guessed it was after dark and there were people outside enjoying a fire.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. At least it wasn’t bleeding. “I’m guessing that we’ve been captured by someone.”

“Brilliant deduction,” Sara said bitterly. “I don’t know who they are or what they want. When you passed out, they got me off my horse, gagged and blindfolded me, then threw you and me into this shed and locked the door. Nothing said, no threats, no demand for goods, no nothing.”

“So we aren’t dealing with any regular thieves,” Martin pointed out. “That narrows down the field to kidnappers.” Or worse, he silently added.

“Kidnappers?” Sara asked, surprised. “But… No one knew…”

“No one knew what?”

Martin and Sara turned to the door. There was a barred window in the door with a face looking in on them. It was an older man, perhaps in his forties, with graying hair in his dull blond hair.

“No one knew how awful a wood shack smells like,” Martin sneered. “At least, not until they get trapped in one.”

“Funny,” the man said in a bored tone. “Who are you? What were you doing trying to go over the Raven Pass?”

“The Raven Pass has always been open to anyone to use,” Martin replied. “What is wrong with that?”

“The Raven Pass is a strategic place,” the man said. “Taking it is in our favor.”

“Venterans,” Sara breathed, shrinking to the back of the shed.

“True,” the man said, smiling a bit. “We’ve just taken the top yesterday. You are not the first travelers we’ve come across since then, but you are the first on this side.”

Martin frowned. He had heard of no such Venter activity in the area. He should know. The reason why Lord Grelend’s estate was picked for the gathering of possible princes was because it was out of the way for either army to consider. Yes, it was an economic stronghold, but the military had no real purpose for coming here.

“You don’t believe me,” the man said, seeing Martin’s face.

“The pass will be hard to keep,” he pointed out. “There are other passes close enough that another army could go over those and hit you on both sides. The pass is also too wide to fully cover.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you a military man?”

“I’ve studied,” Martin replied, keeping his tone calm. “But I have no wish to kill on a daily basis.”

“Pity,” the man hummed. “We will continue this conversation later, I should think. In the mean time, I would like to warn you, escape is impossible. There is only one key to unlock your door, kept with the guard outside your hut. And if you somehow manage to get out, you’ll still need to get past the hundred men camped around you. Then you’ll have to find safety on foot, and avoid us as we search for you.” He paused, slowly grinning. “I hope you enjoy your evening.” He walked away.

Martin waited a moment before standing and checking the view outside. It was just as the man had described. A guard stood a few feet from their shed, watching. Behind him there were rows of tents as men cooked their meals over fires.

“This is going to be tricky,” he started to mumble, putting his back to the door. “First thing…” He stopped. Princess Sara sat in the far corner, shivering as she held her knees close to her chest.

“They’re going to find out who I am,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “They’re going to figure out that this isn’t my hair color, they’re going to notice how much I look like mother.” She sobbed, burying her face in her knees. “They’re going to kill me!”

“No, they’re not,” Martin said firmly, walking over and kneeling down next to her. “If anything, they’re going to ransom you.” She continued to sob. He had to take a deep breath; dealing with teenage girls was not something he liked to do. “Sara, look at me.” She didn’t. “Look at me.” Finally she peered up from her knees. “I promise you, I am not going to let them take you. We’re going to escape.”

“How?” she sniffed, rubbing her nose. “You heard him. There’s no escape.”

Martin snorted. “I’ve escaped from worse than this. I have a plan but I need your help. Could you use your powers to get the key over to us? It’s on the guard’s belt...”

Sara snorted, cutting him off. “Martin. I don’t have those powers.”

He knew that his mother and sister were weaker in the powers, but he didn’t know just how weak. “Of course you do,” he tried to say, thinking that all she needed was a bit of encouragement.

“No,” she insisted, new tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t. You don’t understand. I don’t have powers.”

Martin stared at her, surprised. “But I thought…”

“Mother explained it to me when she came to the Tree,” she sniffed, fighting back the tears. “My grandfather gave up the renewal spell and transferred it to my brother. My parents could never get those powers, but after my brother was born, any Santer born after him would.”

Martin frowned. Why hadn’t he heard this? “I don’t understand then,” he said. “You should be nearly as powerful as your brother…”

She shook her head. “No. The Renewal spell is not genetic. It’s a spark, an essence, passed down from Santer to Santer. Just like how a flame needs to be relit, so are the Santer powers. If grandfather kept the powers, all of his grandchildren would have the powers. However, he gave it up and passed it to my brother.”

“You’re talking in circles,” he accused. “That sounds like you should be…”

“My brother’s powers were block!” she snapped, the tears now streaking down her face. “The spark, the essence, was suppressed. They didn’t just rob my brother of his powers, they robbed mine as well. I was born under the conditions that there had not been a renewal spell. And it couldn’t go to me. My brother hadn’t given it up. So I was born without powers, Martin.” Her emotions finally broke free and she had trouble talking through her sobs. “I don’t have powers!”

Martin watched her cry, numb by what she had just told him. The guilt he had managed to suppress came in full strength. He had once told Sara that others weren’t as lucky as she was. Now he understood that he wasn’t the only one to have suffered under the Inhibitor. He should tell himself that others weren’t as lucky as him. Sara had been robbed of what should have been hers and it would never return to her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say. “I didn’t know.”

“We didn’t either,” she sniffed, fighting to control her emotions.

“I’m still sorry,” he said, patting her shoulder. “But we do have a bigger problem. We need to escape. First thing we need to do is get the key.”

“On the guard’s belt,” she huffed. “And how, pray tell, are you going to do that? Oh, and when you get it, how are you going to put it in the lock? Unless your arm can bend in ways that normal humans can’t, I say that we’re in trouble.”

Martin flinched; she had a point. That left the one option he was very hesitant to do. But he had no choice. Sighing, he stepped over so he knelt in front of the princess and grabbed her shoulder.

“Sara,” he said, finding the words difficult to say. “I want you to promise me that you won’t say anything about our escape to anyone until we’re safe and I can answer your questions.”

The princess sniffed, her eyes puffy from crying. “What are you talking about?”

“Promise me,” he said, feeling the words catch on his tongue. This was not how he wanted to reveal himself to her! “I will answer your questions when we’re safe. But I need your word that you won’t say anything.”

She stared at him, her face blank with confusion and rung out emotions. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I won’t say anything.”

Taking a deep breath, Martin stood up and walked to the door. The guard’s back was to them as he ate his meal on a tree stump. Now would be the best time with his back turned. Taking another deep breath and closing his eyes, he focused on his surroundings, just as he had that day at the circus with Sona. He felt the lock on the door and the key hanging from the guard’s belt. He could feel Sara watching him from her spot on the floor.

Slowly letting out his breath, he used his powers to bring the key over. It unlatched itself from the guard’s belt and floated over to where the lock was. Behind him, he heard Sara’s gasp in surprise, her shock hitting him. She may not have powers, but she could feel his. Forcing her out of his mind, he slowly had the key slide into the lock and turn. There was a quiet click and a soft thud of the lock dropping on the ground. Sighing, he let the powers go and opened his eyes. Turning around, he saw that Sara had gotten to her feet, her face pale as she realized what he had done and what it meant.

“You’re…” she breathed, her eyes wide.

“Shh!” Martin hissed, glancing back out of the door. The guard hadn’t noticed. “Not until we’re safe. I’ll answer then, but only then.”

Sara blinked then slowly nodded her head. “Best escape,” she agreed, her voice quivering. “Are we going to get horses?”

“They don’t have any,” Martin sighed. “At least, I couldn’t feel any.” Sara opened her mouth to ask but clamped it shut again. He had promised her answers, she knew she could wait. “We’ll need to sneak out,” he said. “Make sure they don’t see us. We’ll be long gone before they realize we’ve escaped.”

“Lead away,” she whispered, still staring at him with awe. Sighing, Martin quietly opened the shed door and peered out. The guard was still eating. Motioning his sister to follow, he had her hide to the side of the hut as he put the lock back into place. Using his powers, he had the key float back and latch itself back onto the man’s belt. Together they snuck away. It was slow going as they dashed from shadow to shadow. Several times Martin threw his arm out to stop Sara, a moment later a few men walking where they should have been. At these times, the princess would just stare at him, probably wondering how he knew.

Just like I can’t understand their weaker powers, he thought as he pushed her forward, they can’t understand my stronger ones. It was going to be a long conversation he had with her later. One he was not looking forward to.

They had made it to the edge of the camp and into the forest when Sara started to visibly relax. She kept shooting glances at him, as if she was unsure that he really was there. Not that he could blame her. He did have trouble believing it himself. She opened her mouth to speak when he brought a finger to his mouth. Frowning, she snapped her mouth shut. She really wanted those answers.

The light from the camp fires were nearly lost to the forest when a horn vibrated in the air. Martin paused just a moment.

“Great,” he muttered, picking up the pace and grabbing Sara’s arm. “I hoped they’d wait a while longer.”

“We’ll escape, right?” she asked, looked worried back toward the camp.

“We should,” he muttered, stepping over a fallen log. “Even if I have to…”

Click.

It was a soft sound. Martin froze and looked down. His foot was on a nearly invisible string.

“Sara,” he said, not daring to move while she was near. He knew a trap when he saw one. “I want you to go on before me, until I tell you to stop.”

“What is it?” she whispered, glancing around in fear.

“Once I lift my foot,” he explained, helping her over the log and away from the string, “I’ll spring a trap. I don’t know what kind of trap it is yet. So until I do, I want you to stay away.” Sara looked as if she wanted to argue, but he shook his head. “I need to concentrate. I can’t do that if you’re in danger.” Swallowing, the princess nodded and walked away.

Martin followed the string with his eyes, along the ground, up the nearest tree, and up to the branch above. Above his head were darts, covered in what looked like a light blue dust. “Great,” he muttered. “Nightmare Dust.” Why hadn’t they destroyed the formula? Looking around on the ground, he spotted a likely rock that would hold the string down. Kneeling down, he reached for it, careful not to move his foot. He brought it back and slowly put it down next to his foot. Once it was in place, he lifted his foot, watching the string. It stayed still. Breathing out a small sigh of relief, he started forward.

Twinge.

Martin leapt forward, trying to dodge the darts. He hissed in a breath as he felt something hit his leg. Falling on the ground, he turned over and saw a dart stuck in his calf.

“Great,” he muttered, pulling the dart out. It was the only one, but he knew what it meant. He was poisoned with Nightmare Dust.

“Martin?” Sara asked, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, looking worried. “Are you alright?”

“Probably not,” he grunted, getting to his feet. He didn’t know how long until the poison took him, he could already feel it in his blood, making his movements slow, but he would keep going until he was gone. “Let’s go.”

“But, Martin,” Sara said, looking back at the trap. “They’re going to catch up with us.”

“Likely.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Then,” he grumbled, “we’ll just have to escape again. Let’s keep moving!”

It wasn’t long before the poison started eating away at the edge of his vision. He stumbled through the undergrowth, his limbs too slow to actually react. He hadn’t made it more than a couple hundred feet before he tripped over a root and fell on the ground.

“Martin!” Sara exclaimed, dropping to his side as he tired to push himself up to his hands and knees. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Nightmare Dust,” he groaned, more than half his vision gone. He should have already been under. A small horrified gasp from his sister told him that she knew what he was talking about. “Sara. Go on. Find help. I can’t…”

“I’m not leaving!” she said stubbornly. She then gulped. “You’re my brother.” He could hear the tears in her voice. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“It won’t do either of us any good if we’re both caught,” he tried to snap, his strength draining out of him. He could almost feel the strikes on his back, the pain as his back was ripped open. He shivered. Not again. I don’t want to live that again!

“You need to go,” he said through his gritted teeth. “Save yourself…” He looked up with what vision he had when he felt water splash on his face. It had started raining. It had rained the last time he was poisoned. The land knew he was in pain. He turned to give Sara an order to leave, but she wasn’t looking at him, but into the forest, away from the enemy camp. Suddenly she stood.

“Over here!” she yelled, waving her arms wildly. “We’re over here!”

Someone carrying a torch burst through the undergrowth. Even with his failing vision, he knew a Ghost uniform when he saw one. What are they doing here? he wondered, collapsing to his side. But it didn’t matter why they were there. They were safe.

“I’ve found them!” the Ghost called behind him. Soon they were surrounded by Ghosts. Sara had been dragged away by a few of them, her protests unheard as they took her away. Martin’s vision was almost gone when someone knelt next to him, turning him over so he faced the sky. But another’s face obscured what vision he had.

“Martin” Fred asked, worried. “Are you alright?”

Martin chuckled weakly, knowing he only had a few moments left before the poison took him. “I doubt it…. Nightmare Dust…” The last thing he saw was Fred’s horrified face.
*******************
Fred ordered the majority of his Ghosts to attack the enemy camp, trying to ignore Martin’s sudden screams. He had received word of a phantom Venter unit wandering around the Raven Pass and he with his Ghost had come to investigate. It was while he was at the army outpost that he learned that Princess Sara was due to arrive any day. Fearful for the princess, he and his Ghost had set out to find the phantom unit or the princess before either crossed paths. He had been expecting the princess and the unit, but not her guide. Not Martin.

He hadn’t expected Nightmare Dust either.

Martin’s screams rented the air, the pain in his screams cutting everyone to hear. Fred was glad that it was raining heavily now, hiding his tears as he and a few select Ghosts carried the Alex away. These Ghosts were usually thought as heartless, but by the time they reached their temporary base, a farm house, they were grim in the face. Fred had explained to them about what Nightmare Dust did and that the Alex was reliving his own person nightmare. They were very solemn as they put Martin into one of the house’s guest room, the one actually meant for Fred to stay in. A healer was quick to arrive and Fred gave the man strict instructions on how to treat their fallen spy, explaining how there was no cure and what had to be done to Martin to keep him from hurting others or himself. Even the healer looked grim about it.

With a tired sigh, Fred went looking for Notment. The queen’s former advisor had come to the area after his mother-in-law had died and had just attended the funeral a couple days ago. When he had heard that the princess would soon be arriving, he offered to stay close and travel with her once she was ready to leave. He had eventually found the man walking out of another guest room, his face pale.

“Well?” Fred asked, glancing at the door Notment closed. “How is her highness?”

“She’s full of royal indignation,” Notment commented with a weak chuckle. “She insists that she sees Martin.”

“He just saved her life,” Fred pointed out. “But I cannot allow it. He’s been poisoned with Nightmare Dust. He deserves to suffer in private.”

“Try telling her that,” Notment grumbled. He bowed briefly. “If you’ll excuse me. I’d like to get something to drink before I retire.” The thin man shuffled away, rubbing the side of his head. Fred shook his head. There had been a time when Notment was one of the most brilliant men of their time. Now he just looked worn.

I still have work to do, he thought with a sigh. Even though he was mostly on the move these days, he still had a lot of paperwork to attend to, his large stack found in a tent outside in the pouring rain. Knowing that he didn’t have anything better to do, he braved the storm, wondering where it had come from. It had come suddenly and without warning. While it wasn’t unheard of such storms here at Raven Pass, it was a little depressing.

“Sir,” said one of his Ghosts, walking up and saluting. “I’ve come to report that we’ve captured most of the Venter unit. They aren’t willing to talk yet.”

“Then let’s keep them in this rain until they do,” Fred grumbled, wiping the water off his face. “Anything else?”

“You should get some rest,” the Ghost said, smiling slightly. “You look exhausted.”

You don’t know the half of it. “I’ve got a few things to finish first,” Fred said, waving the man off. “I promise to rest later. You’re dismissed.” The Ghost rolled his eyes but walked away. His Ghosts knew there really was no point in arguing when it came to his sleeping habits. He did have a lot to do before resting.

Coming to his work tent, Fred rushed in and quickly tied the tent door closed, stopping the rain from coming in. The rain pattered on the tent roof as he came to his temporary desk, a large crate that used to be filled with supplies. Slowly sinking onto his chair, he quietly cursed his stiff knee. There had been a time when he would have shrugged off an injury, but his aging body now came with aches and pains. He lit the candle and began thumbing through the letters delivered that day, dividing them up in piles of important, less important, deal with later, and complete discard. He didn’t bother opening any of them until he came across a very familiar handwriting style.

“Commander Gillian,” he muttered, ripping the letter open and wondering what the prison commander of Evan’s Stand wanted with him. That’s right, he thought as he unfolded it. Martin warned me that he had written a letter. He had told the Alex that it might take months for the letter to find him and it seemed to have finally done so.

His breath caught as he read the first line, he stopped breathing by the second. By the time he was done, he was numb, shocked, and still. He glanced upward toward the farmhouse. Toward Martin.

“Oh, Martin,” he breathed, tears coming to his eyes. “Why didn’t I see?”
**********
Notment wandered back to his room, the last guest room in the farmhouse. The owners of the home were happy to allow the Ghost General and him to sleep in the house while the Ghosts set up tents outside. They were even more thrilled to hear when the princess would also be staying with them. They had wanted to give up their own rooms to help room some of the other Ghosts, but the general would not allow it.

With a tired sigh, he unlocked his room and stepped inside. Dealing with Princess Sara had always been hard, but there was something more intense in her this time. She really wanted to see Martin. Closing the door, he thought wistfully of his own bed back in Nacre.

WHAM!

Notment gasped out as he hit the wall, strong hands shoving him into the wall. A very angry face came within inches of his, the dark blue eyes flashing with anger.

“You knew!” the man hissed, tears streaming down his angry face. “You knew who Martin was!”

Notment swallowed hard, shivering. Now he had upset all of the Santers.

“Jonathan,” he started to say when he was slammed into the wall again, forcing the air from his lungs.

“No, Notment!” he cried, his grip loosening. “You knew Martin was my son.” Jonathan Santer began to cry, his hands now trying to hold himself up from his grief. Notment could only stare at his crying monarch, uncertain what to say.

Not many knew of the king’s secret identity, a character the king had developed in his childhood when being the only heir started to become a strain. Fred Chief was the name he came up with when he roamed the streets of Nacre, playing with other kids his age without having to worry about his place in politics. When he had grown up, he kept the persona, occasionally sneaking out on adventures he would rather the public not know of. It was Notment’s opinion that it was healthy for the king to have a chance to walk away from the responsibilities of the throne, if only for a bit. Not even the queen knew of Jon’s sometimes double life. In truth, it had saved his life.

At the battle of Fort Bree, when the war had started nearly three years ago, the king had been shot in the leg and counted among the wounded. When the Venter soldiers had asked for his name, Jonathan had known enough to not reveal his real name. Instead he told them he was Fred Chief and they let him go. He kept the charade up since, knowing that while the enemy thought he was dead Terk wouldn’t hunt him down. Notment, however, knew just how hard it was for the king to keep up his cover, especially with news of his family nowadays.

“My son,” Jonathan continued to cry, shaking his head. “You knew he was my son…”

Notment didn’t know what to say. This pain the king showed was real. “What could I have said?” he whispered. “How could I say that the street urchin was really the crown prince? Who would have believed me?”

“I was so blind,” the king sighed, finally shedding fewer tears. “All those years I spent watching over him. I knew he was special… I knew he was different… Why didn’t I see?”

“His powers were blocked,” Notment offered when the king slammed his fist into the wall beside his face.

“That’s not an excuse!” he roared. “I should have seen!” He glared at him, those deep blue eyes full of anger and sorrow. “And you should have told me. You should have told me when I brought him to Nacre.”

Notment shivered. He had already accepted this fate, once he realized that Martin wouldn’t forgive him. He knew the king and queen would be less forgiving than their son. “I accept my exile,” he whispered, closing his eyes to keep the tears. “I just ask that my wife remains.”

“Oh no,” Jonathan hissed. “I won’t be so kind as to exile you. From this moment on, you are no longer under the employment of the Aeternan government. You will spend the rest of your life banished from Nacre. Live here, become a farmer, I don’t care. But you will never set foot in the capital again.” Notment paled. The king knew he didn’t like to be outside the capital. He was a city creature, born and breed.

“I..” he stuttered, “I accept.”

“Good,” the king darkly, finally letting him go. “I don’t want to see your face ever again. Understood?”

Notment bowed his head. “I…understand.” The king snorted and walked out, slamming the door as he left. Notment sank to his knees, sobbing.
***********
Now, how many of you were expecting that twist? I knew who Fred really was the entire time; this is not something my characters randomly thrust at me when I was typing. It’s been a lot of fun writing Fred scenes knowing about the truth. I giggled a lot. I’m a little sad that his secret is out and that I don’t have that secret pleasure anymore. Oh, well, I have other secret pleasures to enjoy.

Things have been set into motion and things are going to start running now. Martin’s life will never be the same again. Enjoy the journey!

An Unexpected Arrival

I know I’m doing my post a day early, but I don’t think anyone will care. Tomorrow I’ve got to do some training for work and it’s going to take all day and I didn’t think anyone would appreciate waiting until tomorrow night for the post. Speaking of jobs… My posts may move to Thursdays anyway. I really don’t know what my work schedule is going to be like and I know what my Thursdays look like already (classes in Poce in the morning and then spending the rest of the day waiting for my bus). I hope no one minds.

Now, as I said in last week’s post, I’ve got a character arriving that’s going to start a chain reaction of events that’s going to propel the rest of the story to the end of the Secret’s Captive. I get goose bumps just thinking about it! I’ll stop teasing you now. To the story!
***************
Another month had passed since he had chased Tracker out and he had been summoned again to the queen’s office. Martin wasn’t too surprised that she had. Shortly after the commander had named his replacement, he had been called, discretely, to meet the man. The new commander was a younger man, and well respected by the former commander. In fact, the new man was the former commander’s own son. Martin had higher hopes for the new Commander Bentley. He accepted gratefully that Martin was a spy and that he should listen seriously to anything he said.

However, things had settled down fairly quickly after he had stopped the Tracker. Under the influence of Luke’s truth poisons, the captured spies revealed others who had been spying in the mansion and those exposed had been quietly removed. Even his tent mates kept the adventures to themselves, though Jordan near hero worshiped Martin and the others. He cringed as he thought about it. Jordan was more likely to blow his cover with his constant awe now.

But other than that, it had been a quite month. Even Var had lessened his flirting with the girls and Martin had yet to walk in on another kissing session.

Wondering what the queen had summoned him for, Martin walked into her office. Abigail surprisingly wasn’t sitting at her desk, but stood at the large cabinet file in the corner, putting away a file.

“Hello, Martin,” she sighed when she turned around to see who entered her office without permission. “Please sit.”

Bowing, he sat down. Opening another drawer, she pulled out a sheet of paper and sat on her desk. Lacing her fingers together, she considered him for a moment before speaking. “Did you think I was right on sending Sara to the Tree?”

Martin frowned, wondering why the queen would mention her fiery daughter. Especially now. “She needed discipline,” he said slowly. “I can’t think of a better place for it other than under Suit’s command.”

“I know,” she sighed, holding the paper up and reading its message. “But I think she’s learned a bit too well there.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked. “Something has happened?”

“Sara decided that she’s doesn’t want to sit at the Tree while her brother might be here,” the queen explained. “She’s disappeared from the Tree.” She held up a hand as he was about to ask how, silencing him. “It’s not too bad. Suit has someone tracking her. She is safe. However, she is coming here.” She grinned ruefully. “And according to the letter, she should be here sometime this week; she might even be here. If you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out for her? And if you do happen to find her, please bring her to me.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Great, he thought. The princess had taken an interest in him when she found out that he might be her brother. She claimed that he was more interesting than the other men at the Tree. She was another person likely to blow his cover if she trailed him here too. But it didn’t surprise him to find out that she snuck out of the Tree to come here. She was a lot like him that sitting still was not something she took easily.

“You are dismissed.”

Martin stood and bowed again before leaving. When he had closed the door, he rolled his eyes. Just when he thought that life was getting easy, this had to crop up. His mind occupied on the princess, he wandered back to his tent. It was one of the days when they didn’t have to go to classes and the majority of the men had gotten passes to go see the circus before it left. That was fine with Martin. He had plans on spending the day with Sona after she finished her filing. They had started walking the paths in the small forest, talking and stealing kisses. He smiled when he thought about it. Sona had told him that he was much better kisser now.

Arriving to his tent, he was a bit surprised to find both Jordan and Var standing outside their tent. They stopped talking as he approached. The two men had been a lot more quiet around him since they learned he was a spy, which was fine with him. The less chatter from Jordan and sneering from Var was a benefit.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Well,” Jordan said, looking down and shifting his feet. “Var’s just giving me some tips about finding a woman…”

Martin raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Var to give up such information easily.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Var snapped. “I just don’t want to be caught again by a spy.” Martin rolled his eyes. So that’s what it was. He didn’t bother to mention that Luke had managed to find all the spies at the estate and no one had been able to get into the grounds without a thorough background check.

Var glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “In fact, let’s practice that flirting I was telling you about.” A servant girl of about fourteen was approaching, her head bowed, her bonnet covering most of her face. Var grabbed Jordan and positioned him to intercept the girl.

“Now,” he said, watching the girl approach. “The first thing about girls you need to know is that they liked to be smiled at. It makes them feel attractive. And say hello, be bold and show her you aren’t afraid of a pretty face.” Pushing the farmer on the back, Var stood back to watch Jordan try his new tricks. Martin sighed. He knew exactly who the girl was. The girl had her head bowed so that she didn’t see Jordan until she bumped into him. Even then, she didn’t even look up.

“I’m sorry sir,” she said, trying to pass off an uneducated accent, though Martin could tell instantly that it was fake. “Please excuse me.”

“I’m not mad,” Jordan said, a bit terrified that he had already scared the girl. He tried to smile but she wouldn’t look up. He bent down with a frown, trying to see her face. “Aren’t you a bit young to be here?”

“She is,” Martin said, walking up and standing next to the girl. He patted her head. “She isn’t even supposed to be here. Are you, your highness?” He pulled the bonnet off the princess’s head. Sara Santer glared at him, jumping up to grab the bonnet he held out of her reach.

“Martin!” she snapped, reaching as far as up as she could but still unable to grab it. “Give that back!”

“Fine,” Martin sighed, putting the bonnet back on her head and rubbing it on, shoving it over her eyes. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to make a citizens arrest.”

“Arrest?” Sara asked as she pulled the bonnet up, her grey eyes wide. “You wouldn’t!”

“Yes I would,” Martin chuckled, firmly grabbing her shoulder. “You know you aren’t supposed to be here. And I’ve got orders to return you to your mother if I find you first.” Sara glared at him, adjusting the bonnet better on her head.

“Wait…” Jordan said, paling and staring at the princess. There was no question to who her mother was. The queen and her daughter were near mirror images of each other. “Princess Sara?” Even Var was staring wide eyed.

“I wouldn’t bother bowing to her,” Martin said, smirking. “It’ll only swell her head.”

“I don’t need to be kept humble,” Sara snapped at him, trying to yank herself free. “I’m a princess of Aeterna!”

“You’re a spoiled brat,” Martin corrected sternly, steering her away. “And I’ve still got orders.” He was sure that his tent mates were shocked at his causal tone and disrespectful attitude toward a princess. He found that he didn’t care. He was the crown prince and she was his little sister. It was about time she was treated like one.

Sara finally stopped struggling as they left the rows of tents, resigned to the fact that he was going to obey orders. “You’d think that they’ve never seen a princess before,” she grumbled as they walked to the mansion. “The least they could have done was greet me.”

“You caught them at a bad time,” Martin chuckled, the situation extremely funny to him. “The farmer you bumped into was trying to learn to flirt.” Sara’s face grew long, realizing what he had saved her from.

“I’m too young to flirt,” she whispered, horrified. “What made them think I was old enough?”

“You’re a girl walking around the single men’s tents,” he pointed out to her. “I’m surprised that you weren’t grabbed into a kiss.” That comment made her blush. No one else was around as they made walked into the mansion and to Abigail’s office.

Martin silently analyzed his little sister. The last time they had seriously talked was before he left for the Stand. Then she had been a testy thirteen year old, angry at the world for boxing her in. While he could relate, he didn’t feel any obligations to pamper the girl. She had been raised as a princess and took for grated that things were given to her. It was this attitude of needing to get out but also wanting to keep her pampered life that rubbed him wrong. He had decided shortly after meeting the princess that he would not treat her like one. She was just another spoiled brat that needed a good strong dose of reality.

Now that he looked at her, a younger version of the queen with small frame, blond hair, and grey eyes, he could tell there was a difference. The year she had spent living at the Tree had changed her. Perhaps not enough to completely get rid of her pampered needs, but the near fourteen year old now looked as if she knew there were more people than her in this world with greater need.

“You’ve changed,” Martin noted, finally letting go of her shoulder. “There would have been a time when you would have ordered me to let go all the way to the queen’s office.” Sara sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“I suppose you can say that,” she said softly. “Suit… was very frank with me at times.” Martin nodded in understanding. The spy master was known for his lectures that often left others in tears. They walked in silence for a minute.

“You’ve changed,” Sara suddenly said.

“Me?” he asked, a bit surprised. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, frowning as she examined his face. “There’s… Well, you’ve always been somber and grave, but… there’s a new gravity to you. Like you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have.”

“You could put it that way,” he slowly said, turning the corner. He suppressed a shiver as he remembered what had happened at the Stand and his growing powers. “Those in my line of work often see such things.”

Sara shivered. “So I’ve heard.”

They arrived to the queen’s office, Sara now fidgeting as he knocked on the door. The monarch and her daughter often fought, it had been part of the reason why Abigail sent Sara to the Tree. However, the princess still loved her mother, even if she did try to deny it, and she didn’t want to disappoint the queen.

“Enter,” the queen’s voice echoed through the door. Giving the slumping princess an encouraging pat on the back, he opened the door and led her in. Abigail looked up in surprise.

“Martin,” she said, seeing him first, “you actually knocked…” The words died on her tongue as her grey eyes fell on her daughter.

“Hello, mother,” Sara said quietly, knowing she was in trouble. Martin itched to get out of the room. Family confrontations always made him uncomfortable. He had grown up without being part of a family and just could not understand why a family would fight when they were just so blessed to have each other.

Abigail sighed, leaning back. “Sara,” she said, shaking her head. “Why?”

“Oh, mother!” Sara wailed, dropping down into one of the chairs by her desk. “I want to help find my brother!”

“Obviously.”

“May I leave?” Martin asked, hoping to get out of this before they dragged him into their fight.

“Yes,” Abigail sighed, looking at her tearful daughter. Those tears, Martin knew, were real. The princess did want to find her brother. Just had he had grown up without a family, she had grown up without siblings in an adult world. “I’ll summon you later.”

Martin quickly bowed and left, glad he got out of it.
**********
Two days later he was summoned again to the queen’s office. He was in Grelend’s study for the advanced class when a messenger came with the summons. The others looked at him confused, while Thomas, Var, and Calvin wore expressions of surprise. The queen didn’t often call the men to her office publicly. Wondering why Abigail would summon him, he left the class and wandered down to her office.

It had been big news two days before when the queen announced that the princess was also there. Since then Sara had been mingling with the men, dressed like a proper princess instead of a servant, getting to know them just as her mother had done. Some men were quick to talk to her while others tired to avoid her. He didn’t think the princess noticed. When he got there, the princess and queen were sitting at a table, sharing some tea.

“You summoned me?” he asked, bowing briefly then standing at attention.

“Yes,” Abigail said, smiling a bit. “Please sit.”

Martin stared at the other chair, confused. He had never been this informal with the queen. Hesitantly he took the seat, assessing his mother and sister. Both looked clam; Sara even looked happy.

“Would you care for something to drink?” the queen offered, pouring more tea for herself. He shook his head; this just felt too strange. “You’re probably wondering why I’ve summoned you.”

“Yes,” he said, curious about why the mother and daughter weren’t fighting. If anything, they looked like they were on good terms.

“I need you to take Sara to an army post where she will then be escorted back to Nacre.”

Martin blinked. He wasn’t expecting that. Glancing at the princess, he saw that she was smiling, as if she was happy with the decision.

“You look confused,” Sara noted, smiling even wider.

“I thought you wanted to look for your brother.”

“I still do,” Sara said, smirking. “But my mother thinks I could do more in Nacre.”

“How?”

“Sara is of the age to start taking on Santer responsibilities,” Abigail said, smiling fondly at her daughter. “It would be a shame to not use her now. Especially since she’s grown up since she was last in Nacre.” That got a blush out of the princess, lowering her eyes. Interesting, Martin thought. Apparently the princess had received this praise from the queen before and it still surprised her.

“I’m going to act as a voice of the Santers,” Sara explained, quickly covering her embarrassment. “Mom will send me reports about the search here and I’ll relate that to the people “

“How is that helping to find your brother?” Martin asked, skeptical. It sounded like the queen wanted her daughter out of the way but still give the princess something useful to do.

“Not finding him exactly,” Sara said, tilting her head to the side. “More like prepare for his return. There’ve been rumors that Mom’s doesn’t have complete control of her faculties…”

“In short,” Martin summed up, “there are rumors saying she’s insane.” Sara blushed at how blunt he was.

“Essentially,” the queen answered, not the least fazed that he had just called her crazy. “There is no doubt that I have lost much to Terk, my son, my husband, my brother.” Martin frowned; he hadn’t heard about the queen’s brother. “There are parties that would like to see me as a delicate woman who can’t function without my husband or another man. It makes them nervous that I’ve been able to hold the throne for so long.”

“But I’m not crazy,” Sara whispered, glancing to at the queen to make sure she wasn’t going to get in trouble for interrupting. Abigail nodded her approval and the princess went on with more confidence. “I’m just a teenager, new to the world of politics. They’re going to test me, and what better test than making sure they’re ready for my brother’s arrival at court.”

“And you really think she can do the job?” Martin asked, eying the teenage princess, causing her to blush again.

“Sara has been raised from the crib to deal with politics,” Abigail said proudly. “And the year under Suit was a good thing for her. I have every confidence in her to prepare the court for her brother.”

Martin stared at the two women as they gave encouraging smiles at each other. They were serious! And they didn’t even seem to be at odds with each other. But more than that, something else hit him.

They’re already getting ready for me, he thought. They don’t know me but they’re ready to do what they can. He wasn’t sure what he thought of that. All his life he had to fight for what he got, from the streets to the spy network, nothing was ever given to him. And here they were, ready to help even though they didn’t know who he was. It made him nervous, but it also aroused another emotion he was not used to dealing with.

Guilt.
*****************
It was still another couple of days before he and Sara embarked to the army outpost on the other side of Raven Pass. Although it was not the most direct course to Nacre, it was the closest outpost to them. They would have the recourses and man power to escort the princess back to the capital to begin her work. The morning of their departure, Martin looked the princess, her horse, and her gear over.

“It’ll do,” he finally concluded, turning to his Rowan. For the sake of safety, it was decided that the princess would be disguised so no one would recognize her on the road. The mansion had been told that she had left the night before because she was anxious to get to Nacre. In truth, she had spent the night tucked away in Sona’s apartment. Now she was dressed in a servant’s uniform, her hair carefully died to look darker. She busied herself with adjusting the bonnet back on her head. He had given her a stern lecture that her safety depended on her disguise and that she would obey his orders without question. It had been a surprise when she had gracefully accepted those terms.

The queen wasn’t there to send them off. It must be believed that the princess had left the night before. The excuse Martin had for him and the disguised princess for leaving the mansion was that he was asked by a family friend to return their runaway daughter. Truthful enough.

Sticking his foot in the stirrup, Martin vaulted himself up onto his horse, Sara doing so like wise. He bit his tongue as he watched. The princess was a known horseman, her favorite pastime being riding her horses out in the country side. However, for her disguise she was supposed to not know much about horses. The simple fact that she mounted her horse flawlessly, and side saddle, proved that she knew what she was doing.

Perhaps I’m going to have to revise her back story, Martin thought, steering his horse for the gate. Sara may have spent a good time at the Tree and picked up a few things, but she wasn’t a spy. The story he came up for her had to match what she did.

Showing the passes to the men at the gate, they left the mansion and rode through the town. The circus was busy tearing down to go to another city and the majority of the kids went to watch. The other inhabitants were busy with their own lives, working oblivious to the fact that their princess was riding past them. Soon the city gave way to fields, the occasional farm house breaking up the rows of fields. It was only then that Martin decided to strike up a conversation.

“So,” he said, “what made you decide to go to Nacre?”

Sara had been staring at the fields when he asked. Frowning, she turned to him. “What do you mean? Nacre is my home.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I also know you. You want adventure and Nacre politics, I’ve found for the most part, aren’t adventurous.”

Sara blushed at his accurate deduction. “Honestly?” He nodded. She bit her lower lip, looking nervous. “Mom showed me the paperwork.”

Martin burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Sara wailed, looking earnest. “She showed me all that paperwork that she and Sona have to go through… It’s boring! At least, if I’m in Nacre, trying to prepare the court for my brother’s return, arguing with nobles, carefully word what I have to say to the public… That’s a lot more interesting than all that paperwork!”

“I suppose it is,” Martin said, still chuckling. “Tell me. How were you going to handle being queen one day if you don’t like paperwork?”

Sara groaned, looking out over the fields again. “I suppose I need to grow up sometime… But I don’t have worry about that now, now don’t I? My brother’s going to inherit. Not me.” There was something in her tone that he couldn’t quite recognize.

“Does that make you jealous?” Martin asked, fishing for an answer. “Are you disappointed that you’ll probably never have the throne?”

She laughed weakly, turning back to him. “Disappointed? No. Relieved? Yes. I am, however, faced with a new problem.”

“Oh?”

“I have to figure out what I want to do,” she said, staring at the horn of her saddle. “Sure, I’ve daydreamed about being something other than a princess… but I knew those dreams weren’t for me. Now they do and I don’t know which dream I should pursue.”

“Tell me about them,” Martin offered. The princess shook, staring at him with shock.

“Tell you?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Perhaps I could help you. I’ve done a lot of things in my life. Perhaps I could help you in a direction.”

Sara hesitated for a moment before launching into her narrative. The miles flew by as they talked of her future. The land gradually changed from farm land to meadows, and then a few trees cropped up. By after noon, they were starting up the mountain pass, surrounded by a thick forest.

“I’ve noticed,” Martin said after they talked of her idea of becoming a healer, “that you haven’t said anything about marriage.”

Sara blushed. “I want to get married someday,” she admitted, her voice a bit higher than normal. “But I’m still too young.” Martin decided to not point out that girls started marrying at fifteen. Most girls started flirting at Sara’s age.

“I worded that wrong then. I meant about marrying into another noble house. From what I’ve heard and read about nobility is that they like marriage alliances.”

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “But that doesn’t mean much to Santers who don’t inherit. Santer tradition is a bit… different from other royalty. Yes, the heir marries for alliances, but the other children are allowed to pick their own fate. I could be a beggar for the rest of my life, should I wish it.”

Martin rubbed his head, confused. “That doesn’t make much sense. Again, as I understand it, royalty like having a lot of kids so they can have said kids marry into other houses, other nations. Create alliances that way.”

“True for the rest of the world,” Sara said, holding a finger up. “But. How would you like to marry someone who has powers?”

“Mages marry all the time.”

Sara groaned and rolled her eyes. “Powers that could potentially affect their lands? Their weather? The rest of the world puts up with the heir, thus the marriage alliances for them, but they aren’t so forgiving with the others. There is a reason why the Santer line isn’t branched and why it’s rare for the Santer family to have any more than three kids. I’m not the heir, Martin, not any more. Yes, perhaps some nobleman would want to marry me, but it wouldn’t be for an alliance.”

There wasn’t any bitterness in her voice, surprising him. She honestly didn’t care that she didn’t have a place among the nobility anymore. She’s free, he realized. She’s free to be who she wants. No wonder she wondered about her future.

“But until my brother does return to court,” Sara kept saying, not noticing him staring at her, “and until he marries and has heirs, I’m still useful as a Santer. I have time to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

Martin shook his head. He would have thought that she would have wanted to stay in the world of politics, where she had been raised. But her plans, her dreams, were far wider than a normal princess. Sara wanted to help, just not as a noble.

It was getting dark and the top of the pass when Sara finally considered to ask him a question he had been expecting from the start.

“Where are we staying for the night?” she asked, frowning at him. They hadn’t bothered packing bedrolls and the army outpost was on the other side of the pass, another half day’s ride.

“There’s an inn on the top of the pass,” he explained. “We’ll rent a room for the night.”

“Oh,” she said lamely. “I guess I should have paid more attention.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You should have. But before we get there, I want to tell you about some changes I’ve made to your story…”

“You’re in danger.”

Martin froze. That voice! He had heard it before, when he was fighting for his life in the ocean near Evan’s Stand. Pulling his horse to a stop, he quickly looked around.

“Martin?” Sara asked, stopping her horse. “What is it?”

He held up a hand to her, silencing her. The voice said they were in danger. Opening himself up to emotions, he searched for signs of life. The forest had gone still and quiet. There was a wrongness in the shadows of the trees, coming closer. Whoever was approaching meant harm.

“Heithery!” he swore. “Sara! RUN!” He kicked Rowan into a canter, back down the pass. Behind him, he could hear the princess’s horse close on his, The ones in the forest panicked, realizing that they had been found out. They started running to catch up. Sparing a glance back, Martin saw them crash into the road, chasing after them. Sara also looked back, gasping in shock.

“Martin!” she cried, turning forward again.

“Keep running!” he yelled, returning his attention to the road. His Rowan could outrun most horses, and Sara’s horse was an old messenger horse used to running. Their pursuers were on foot… He sensed more up ahead. A trap!

Not wasting time, he pulled Rowan to a stop again, turned around, and charged for the men on foot. Sara cried out in alarm but was quick to follow his lead. He would rather run through the men on foot than see what sort of trap they had ready for them. They were about to run through the men…

SLAM!

Martin hit the ground, the air forced from his lungs. Someone had knocked him out of his saddle and was pinning him to the ground. Martin thought of a hundred ways to pull the man off of him when something hard hit the back of his head. The last thing he remembered was Sara’s terrified scream.
**********
Humming contently to self. I’m not getting any nicer to my characters and I’m not partially bothered by that. Maybe it’s because I know the end…. Next week! Martin and Sara have to figure out to escape this new threat and they’ll run into someone with a secret! Enjoy the journey!