Catherine lowered her head. “Thank you for the child then.”
“I hope she appreciates her luck in finding such a considerate princess.”
“And such a considerate prince.”
Back in Brigant, no one would be released from jail at Catherine’s request. She would learn what she could from Tash tomorrow and, if need be, she’d question Gravell too. She could always go to his cell for that. However, for now she wanted to help take Tzsayn’s mind off his troubles with talk of something lighter.
“The girl is from Illast originally, I think. Her hair is the most amazing I’ve ever seen. It’s long and tangled like thick rope. I’ve never seen the like of it before. Her skin is dark and her eyes are a stunning blue. Even deeper than the blue of your silk jackets.”
“It sounds like she’s swept you off your feet.” The prince smiled again.
Catherine laughed. “Actually, that is exactly what happened.” Before she could say more, a servant entered and bowed to Tzsayn.
“Karl asks permission to see you, Your Highness.”
The prince rubbed his eyes. Catherine saw again how tired he was. “Where is he?”
“Outside, Your Highness.”
“Excuse me,” the prince said, turning back to Catherine. “It seems there is more work to be done.”
Catherine nodded. “I’ll leave you then. Thank you for agreeing to my request.”
She left the room, and a man in the corridor bowed as she passed. He had a scar down each of his cheeks and was holding a thick gold chain.
EDYON
ROSSARB, PITORIA
MARCH WAS dying. Of that, Edyon was sure. And this time there was no way to stop it.
After Edyon had told the scar-faced man he was the son of Prince Thelonius, both he and March had been taken back to Edyon’s cell. They were given bread to eat and water to drink, but March couldn’t eat. Edyon tried chewing the bread to make a paste to feed him, but it was hopeless. He dribbled water into March’s mouth and talked to him, and that was all he could do.
I cannot see if he lives or dies . . .
Perhaps Madame Eruth couldn’t, but Edyon could. It felt like death was in the room with him.
So Edyon talked and talked and held March’s hand. He had asked for some cloths and water to clean the wounds, and eventually the door opened.
The man in the doorway didn’t have either bandages or water, but he was holding Edyon’s gold chain. He was so beautifully dressed in blue silk and shining silver armor that Edyon wanted to laugh at the awful joke of it as he and March lay on the ground in a cell where even the air was filthy.
“I believe you claim this gold chain is yours.”
“Yes, it’s mine.”
“Can you tell me how you got it?”
Edyon was almost too tired to speak. But he gave a short version of his story, from birth to his arrival on the cell floor.
The man stared at him. “There are many questions I have for you, but they can wait until you have more strength.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
The man nodded. “I believe you are, Edyon.”
And with a flick of his fingers four soldiers came into the cell. “They’ll take you to a better room. I’ll send a surgeon for your friend. We’ll talk again later.”
The soldiers tried to lift March, but he tightened his grip on Edyon’s hand and Edyon knew he shouldn’t let go. The soldiers told him to give them room, but the man in blue silk spoke quietly to them and then they worked around him. Somehow they got March onto a stretcher and carried him out of the dungeon into the cool air.
They crossed a stone courtyard into a large keep and to a room with light and furniture and a large fire. There, a man wearing a white tunic cleaned March’s wounds and bandaged them while Edyon still kept hold of March’s hand.
“Who was that man? The one in the silk?” Edyon asked, though he had a feeling he knew, from the terrible scars that had covered the left side of his face like melted wax.
“That was Prince Tzsayn, sir, and I’m his personal physician. He’s asked me to do whatever I can to help you.”
Edyon didn’t know what to say. Was this all happening because they believed that he was the son of Prince Thelonius? Clearly they no longer thought he was a spy. Edyon felt the faintest spark of hope. Then his eyes fell on March, his face pale, breathing shallow, and the spark died.
“And March? Can you help him?”
“I’ll do what I can. But he’s very weak and his wound is deep.”
Edyon wished he still had the demon smoke. That would cure March. The only thing he’d ever stolen that had been useful, and he’d lost it again.
But Gravell and Tash were here in the castle. The prince must have got the chain from them, so he must have the purple demon smoke too. It was a pathetically hopeless chance, but he had to say it.
“The demon smoke! That will heal him.”
The physician shook his head. “Demon smoke doesn’t heal.”
“It does; I’ve seen it.”
The physician raised his eyebrows. “Was this after you’d taken some, sir?”
“It will work, I promise you.”
“Impossible. And anyway, illegal.”
“Listen,” said Edyon. “Two demon hunters were caught as they came into Rossarb; they had my gold chain, which holds the seal of my father, Prince Thelonius.” Edyon thought it wouldn’t do any harm to name-drop. “They also had some purple demon smoke. It cures wounds. I’ve seen it. I’ve used it. And now I need you to get it. My friend’s life depends on it.”
“I know you want your friend to live, sir, but this smoke won’t help him. It may ease his passing, if he can smoke a little, but—”
“Find it,” said Edyon firmly. “The prince told you to do everything you could. If March dies I will blame you. Either bring me the smoke or bring me the prince. Now!”
CATHERINE
ROSSARB, PITORIA
History often forgets that King Stephen, one of Brigant’s most well-loved kings, was born out of wedlock.
Brigant: A Detailed History, T. Nabb
THE MORNING after discussing Tash with the prince, Catherine had obtained the girl’s freedom and, at Tash’s insistence, had allowed her to go to see Gravell in his cell, provided that two soldiers stayed with her at all times.
“She can run fast. Watch her,” Tanya had warned with a smile as they left.
Shortly afterward Ambrose arrived at Catherine’s rooms carrying a small canvas sack. There was a purple and red glow coming from it, and she couldn’t help but feel excited.
“The smoke? You’ve got it?”
Ambrose pulled out not one but two bottles and held them up. One was full of red and orange smoke. In the other, the smoke was purple and glowed more brightly. He held the purple bottle out to her, saying, “Be careful. It’s hot.”
Catherine took it and was surprised by the weight of it, although the heat was gentle rather than fiery.
Could this strange smoke really be the reason her father had invaded Pitoria? It certainly wasn’t anything ordinary. But how could it be useful to him?
“Are you handling illegal goods, Sir Ambrose?” Prince Tzsayn said as he entered the room. “The penalty for possessing demon smoke is a year’s hard labor.”
“Would I have to go to prison as well?” Catherine held up the bottle of purple smoke.
Prince Tzsayn grinned. “Fortunately I’m in a position to pardon you, fully and completely.” He came to her and took the bottle.
“I got these from your guards, Your Highness. They’d taken them from two prisoners.”
“The demon hunters, I assume,” Tzsayn said, looking to Catherine.
Catherine nodded. “As I explained, I think the smoke might be the reason my father is invading. But I’m not much wiser as yet.”
The prince held up his bottle. “I’ve not seen smoke this color before. It’s normally red, like the one Sir Ambrose is holding.”
“Perhaps Tash can explain the difference,” Catherine offered.