The Fire King, Page 2

  “I am talking about you. I take it Harmen did not tell you he was to be married? Probably too busy hunting for the feast today. I swear, I have not seen him in days.”

  “Me neither!” Katiyana gasped, glad her only friend had not truly forgotten her. “Wait, Harmen is getting married?”

  “Aye, to me. My name is Maribel. And since you are his favorite princess, perhaps you would do us the honor of being present at our wedding?”

  Katiyana smiled for the first time in days.

  “You eat like a pig,” Sula said calmly, dabbing her lips with the fine linen napkin.

  Katiyana looked down guiltily at her plate and wiped her own mouth. “But it is pig. Pork chops and apple—”

  “Not your meal, you. You are a pig. I can hear you chewing from all the way over here and you are not even using the proper utensils.”

  The girl looked to the small fork in her hand. She knew it was for dessert but the dinner fork for was so large she could barely fit it in her mouth.

  “Yes, Mother,” she whispered.

  “And do not call me that,” Sula hissed. “I am not your mother, merely your father’s latest conquest.”

  Katiyana did not know what that word meant so she offered up what knowledge she did have. “Father loves you very much, he tells me each time he sees me.”

  Sula cocked her head, her perfectly razored bob skimming one shoulder. “And how often is that?”

  “Not often,” Katiyana admitted. “But I saw him a few days ago and all he could talk about is how wonderful you are.”

  Sula closed her eyes, as if the conversation itself was painful. “You cannot even speak properly.”

  Tears were burning in her lower lids and she tried to blink them away. “Father said you would be taking over my lessons. If anyone can teach me to be a proper princess, I know it is you.”

  “Me?” Sula asked, her laugh sharp in Katiyana’s ears. “I was never a princess. I was raised in a family of fish mongers, much like your mother.”

  At that the girl raised her eyes. “You knew my mother?”

  “I knew her well. She was my cousin. And your father paid just as much to have her as he did me. Do you know what a bride is worth? Much more than a child is worth to her parents.”

  Katiyana sucked her lower lip into bite it then released the tender flesh when Sula sighed.

  “Fine, you wish to be a proper princess. To what end?”

  Katiyana folded her napkin into her lap and slid the plate away, trying to gain some time to think. She wished more than anything her father was there with them but again, he was too busy. “Well, one day I am to be queen of this land—”

  “This land? I am afraid you are mistaken.”

  The tears threatened again but Sula continued in her cold, brittle voice.

  “When you are of age, your father will sell you off to the highest bidder. You will be forced to leave the land you love, your home, your family, and you will become a slave to a man you have never even met. You may be called queen but never forget you are just a pawn.”

  “That is not true,” Katiyana tried to argue, stuttering over her words.

  “It is,” Sula said fiercely. “It does not matter what you want. I spent years refining myself so I would be the perfect consort for the king of my own land. There was no one more beautiful or suited to him than me. I made myself for him and in the end, he forced me away to be married to a brute I had never met. I should be queen in my kingdom.”

  She sat back in her chair and dabbed her lips again even though she had not taken another tiny bite of food. “You cannot rely on a man to hand you what you want or deserve. Even your own family will betray you if it is in their best interests. The sooner you learn to trust no one, the better for you.”

  With that she left the table and Katiyana sat in stunned silence. Surely her own father would never send her away. The forest was her home and one day she would reign from the Forest Throne with the same kindness and wisdom her own father did.

  It was the howling that woke her. Even half asleep, she knew it was her father. Confused and scared, she fell out of the nursery bed, tangled in the sheets.

  Footsteps thudded outside her door and she eased it open, peering into the dark hallway. No one was there.

  It had been over a year since the wedding and she was still alone in her nursery. With no one to tell her otherwise, she tiptoed out onto the mahogany floor towards her father’s room.

  Sula rounded a corner and Katiyana tried to shrink back into the shadows.

  “Your father is ill,” she said, addressing her where she hid. “Go back to your room.”

  Her stepmother calmly wiped a spatter of blood from her cheek and glided away.

  Horrified, Katiyana raced back to the nursery and slammed the door shut. She did not sleep the remainder of the night.

  Her morning meal was served by pale faced servants who refused to meet her eyes.

  “My father, is he all right?” she asked.

  When they turned from her she grabbed their sleeves, demanding to be answered. But they shook her off and mutely nodded their heads.

  Determined to see him, she counted to one hundred before slipping out the door and down the hall. She took the servants passages, winding her way deep inside the castle until she was just down the hall from her father’s room.

  His door creaked open and she ducked back into the passageway, holding her breath.

  “Get this cleaned up,” she heard his healer say. “I will return as soon as I have consulted my brothers.” She heard his hard boot heels click away in the opposite direction and chanced a peek out into the hall.

  Two servant girls were struggling out of the door, a large bundle of bloody sheets held between the two of them.

  Katiyana gasped and ducked back into her hiding spot. But instead of a cold wall, she crushed into the starched folds of a pastel gown.

  “I thought I told you to stay in your room,” her stepmother said icily. Katiyana slowly craned her head up to take in her face. It was completely without emotion. There was no concern for her husband, no compassion for her stepdaughter and no sadness at all.

  “Stepmother, please,” the little girl begged. “I just want to see him.”

  That changed her expression. Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “Do not call me that. And you would not want to see your father right now any way. He is a bloody mess and the sound of his retching is enough to make one sick.”

  Katiyana gulped down a sob and let her eyes drop to the floor. She could not remember her mother, did not remember her sick or even dying. But the sadness was still there and her father’s illness compounded it, making her heart swell painfully in her chest.

  “Come,” Sula said.

  When Katiyana said nothing, she grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall. The girl tried to dig her heels in, tried to form words of protest around the lump in throat, but could not. Servants turned their faces away and finally she gave in.

  When they reached the nursery, Sula threw her in through the open door. “Even a princess knows to obey. You are just a rotten girl.” From her pocket she drew an old key and her lips twisted into something like a smile.

  Katiyana jumped up and launched herself at the door but was too late. Her stepmother had it shut and locked before she could reach the handle.

  It was pointless to cry, she knew that. But it did not stop her from beating at the door and screaming in rage. Minutes or hours passed before she succumbed to her emotional torment and laid down on the rug, praying someone would let her out to see her father.

  She must have fallen asleep, for when she opened her eyes again, she could see nothing. Suddenly frightened, she struggled to remember what had woken her.

  “Get up,” a voice hissed in the dark.

  Katiyana sat, wincing at the pain in her shoulder from lying on the floor.

  “Get up, get dressed, hurry!” the voice insisted.

  “Who is there?” she asked
, her voice thick from half a night of crying.

  “Quiet!” came the panicked whisper.

  Finally a tiny flame was struck and put to a candle. In its wavering light, Katiyana could just barely make out Harmen’s fiancé.

  “Maribel?” she asked, trying to clear her head.

  “Yes,” she said, her face softening a little. Her eyes were red and her mouth drawn and pinched. “Hurry girl, you have to get dressed, you have to get out of the castle.”

  “Out of the castle?” she parroted.

  “Yes!” Maribel hissed. “Now. You must go. I will take you to the edge of the forest and then you must run. Harmen—” her voice broke on his name. “Something is wrong with him. He wants—never mind. You have to run.”

  “But what about my father?” she asked, finally picking herself up from the floor with Maribel’s help.

  The older woman’s face cracked and fell. “He is gone, my dear. I am so sorry.”

  The room spun as grief set in but Maribel grabbed her arm in a painful vice.

  “I am sorry, but you must put it aside for now. You have to go.”

  Katiyana looked about her nursery and saw the edge of the forest bathed in moonlight from her window. “Go where? I cannot leave.”

  “You have to,” Maribel stressed, dragging her to the door. “Now. Harmen is coming for you, the queen wants you dead.”

  Katiyana tried to jerk her arm from the woman’s grip but did not succeed. “Tell me what is happening, or I will scream for the guard.”

  Maribel stuck her head out the door and looked up and down the hall before dropping to her knees before the young princess. “Your father has died. I do not know much more than that, other than you must run.”

  “I cannot! Run where?”

  Maribel grabbed her arms again. “I will take you to the edge of the forest. Go west. There is a band of small men that will help you. You will know when you find them.” She began to drag the girl to the door.

  “Wait,” Katiyana protested. “I only have on a dress and slippers.”

  Maribel looked her over, taking in the thin dark fabrics. “That is for the best, much quieter than shoes and a gown.”

  Bewildered and in a fog of grief, she let the woman lead her out of the castle. They stopped at each hall, Maribel listening intently, before they continued. Finally they rushed out a door and the woman ran for the woods, dragging the girl behind her.

  All at once, everything came flooding in. Her father was dead. Her only friend wanted to hurt her. She was being banished from her home. The lump in her throat dissolved and she gave way to noisy sobs.

  Maribel tried to hush her to no avail. Finally she just dragged her further into the forest.

  “You know which way is west? Did Harmen teach you about the sun and the moss on the trees?”

  “Ye-es,” Klaribel hiccupped. “But why do I have to go?”

  The woman leaned down to pull the child tight in her arms. “If I understood it myself, I would explain it to you. But please just run, or your life is forfeit.”

  And with that pale explanation, she was set into the forest.

  Trees that had once been friendly and welcoming were sinister in the dark. Her feet stumbled over everything as she made her way deeper and deeper into the woods. The hooting of the owls made her jump and the friendly bats had her shrieking and diving to the ground.

  Above it all, she thought of her father. Gone. He was dead and she would never get to say goodbye to him. She had missed him so badly over the last few years she did not think the pain could be worse than that. But it was.

  After an hour of wandering she passed by a familiar forked tree, struck down by lightening long ago. Fresh tears came to her eyes. She was going in circles.

  “Katiyana,” a vacant voice called to her.

  She spun, searching the darkness.

  “Why are you not in your room?”

  She stood as still as she could and held her breath. Harmen materialized in front of her. His eyes were dull and his mouth slack. He could not seem to focus on her but his steps were steady as he walked to stand before her.

  “You really mean to kill me?” she breathed, still not believing it.

  The soft sob he let out was no more surreal or surprising than any other event of that night and it confirmed her fears.

  “Why are you doing this?” she finally asked with a calmness she did not really feel.

  “I have to,” he said. “If I do not, she will ruin my life.”

  “Surely she does not have that much power,” Katiyana said uncertainly, guessing he spoke of Sula.

  “She does,” he argued. “If I do not, she will tell my sweet Maribel and the wedding will be off.”

  The girl’s brow wrinkled. “If she tells her what?”

  Harmen rubbed an arm over his eyes and sighed. “That I… that I was unfaithful. It was only a kiss! And after I had too much cider.” He shook his head. “It would break her heart to find out.”

  A new, colder feeling began to well in the pit of Katiyana’s stomach. “So you would murder me because you chose to drink too much one night and be unfaithful to your betrothed?”

  Shame washed over the woods keeper’s dazed face. “She will tell her,” he said, desperation faint in his words.

  Katiyana nodded slowly, keeping her anger, and her fear, throttled. Her father had always told her the best way out of a bad situation began with a calm mind. “Well then, you must do what you must do. So how shall you complete your task?” She eyed the wickedly sharp knife at his belt as cold sweat pricked her brow. “Perhaps slit my throat? No,” she mused, forcing her voice to stay smooth. “Too messy.”

  Harmen’s mouth slowly dropped open as she spoke.

  “Do you have a rope?” she asked, looking up at the trees. “Hanging would not be nearly so messy.”

  “I… I…”

  “What, no rope? I see.” She pretended to look around before her gaze settled on the large hand he was half holding over his horrified face. “Oh, that might do.” The man stumbled back when she grabbed for his arm, realizing her meaning. “Come now Harmen, you have a job do.”

  He slowly shook his head as tears formed in his eyes and she took the opportunity to capture his large, calloused hands and bring them up to her throat. “Throttling should work quite nicely, although it may take a few minutes. Perhaps you should aim to break my neck. I am only a child, so it should not be so very hard for a big man like you.” Her heart was thrumming in her chest as she baited him.

  “I do not think I can,” he mumbled, trying to pull his hands away.

  Katiyana prayed her crazy plan would work and dug her fingernails into the relatively softer flesh at the back of his hands, hooking them in place around her throat. “Oh, but you must! Or Sula will tell Maribel about your indiscretion. And then you must do the next thing she tells you, and the next and the next and the next after that. She will use your secret against you until one of you are dead.”

  Harmen jerked his hands from her neck and fell to his knees in the dirt and dead leaves. Katiyana watched as he heaved and heaved, emptying his stomach of all its contents. Finally he wiped an arm over his mouth and slid away from the mess, falling onto his backside. “I do not know what to do,” he said with a raw throat.

  “Might I give you a suggestion?” Katiyana asked gently as she knelt before him.

  He nodded miserably and she reached out to pat his shoulder. “Tell Maribel. She will find out eventually and it will be so much less humiliating if she hears it from you and sees just how sorry you are. Maybe she will leave you, but maybe she will not. She is not expecting to marry a perfect man but I am sure she wants to marry an honest one.”

  His dull eyes slowly lit up. “I think perhaps you are right.” His lips twitched and one corner nearly lifted up. “You remind me so much of your father.” Once again his face fell. “What he must think of me.”

  Katiyana bit her lip. Had her father been in the position, the man woul
d have lost his head. Her father. The void of despair reached for her again but she resisted.

  Harmen slowly stood up from the ground and pushed his messy hair off his forehead. “I cannot imagine what I was thinking, that I would even consider…” he trailed off as he looked to the young girl. “Katiyana, I am so sorry.” He rubbed at the sides of his head. “How I could think to do such a thing…” His confusion began to subside.

  “What will you do now?” Katiyana asked, still not daring to hope she had talked her way out of the death sentence.

  “I will tell the new queen I have done as she commanded. And then I will tell my sweet Maribel of the awful thing I did.” The dullness was fully gone from his eyes and he up straight, speaking with a clear, strong voice.

  Katiyana gave a small sigh of relief and her knees weakened. Harmen reached out with one hand to steady her while digging in his pocket with the other. “You have to run,” he said, pulling out items. “Run west, and slightly to the south. There you may find help.” His words echoed Maribel’s but she was too terrified to be curious.

  The girl looked around at the once friendly, safe woods. They now looked so barren and dangerous. “I cannot go out there by myself,” she squeaked.

  Harmen knelt on the ground again, sorting through the things he had pulled from his pockets. “Katiyana, you must. Your stepmother is queen now. I do not understand why, but she wants you dead. If you return to the castle, I fear no one will be able to protect you.”

  Katiyana shivered in the cool breeze and glanced down at her thin, insensible dress. “But I have nothing.”

  “I have everything you need here.” He began picking things up and showing them to her. “This,” he said, unwrapping a small cloth bundle, “is flint and steel. When struck together, they make sparks. This little bag holds dry cotton to start the fire.” He pulled off his woolen cloak and the leather satchel he wore at his back. “There is dried bread and fruit in here and hard cheese. There is a jerkin for water, a line of string and hook, mittens that I fear will be much too large and a balm for wind chapped skin.” Lastly he pulled a smaller, sheathed knife from his boot. “I know you know how to use much of these items as I taught you myself,” he said with a small smile. “You will be fine, just go west and slightly to the south as fast as you can.”