Deadly Magic

Part Eight

The sun rose above the palace of Kiacia, seeming to dim before hitting the gold-and-white greatness of the home of the king. Prince Louis was seething. He had, in fact, been seething since the evening before. Since the boy he had been just about to kiss was whisked away by the guards. Since he had stalked back to the palace on foot by himself, not caring who saw him.

When he had arrived at the palace, Louis immediately demanded to be taken to the royal prison, where mostly harmless troublemakers and tax evaders were kept. The boy was not there. He demanded to be taken to the dungeon, where thieves, goat stealers, and murderers were locked up. The boy was not there. Losing patience, he demanded to be taken to the secret royal oubliette, where the worst rapists, enemies of the state, and caravan raiders were thrown to be forgotten.

Forever.

Reluctantly, a pair of the stoutest guards armed with two scimitars apiece took him down to investigate. The boy was not there either.

So he had began questioning the guards themselves. The lower-ranked ones, clearly had no idea about the boy or anything that had occurred. Those higher in command, who had actually brought the boy in couldn't be found.

And Jesse was silent on the matter. "My lips are sealed," he said, apologetically. "By orders of Nik." "He isn't an enemy of the state or a spy," Louis cried, exasperated.

He almost lost his temper, "He's just a boy. A harmless boy who was showing me around Kiacia." Jesse continued to say nothing. But his eyes betrayed something at towards the last thing that was said. Louis realized with horror where this whole thing-and the boy-was going.

"I wasn't going to run off with him!" he yelled.

Probably.

"He wasn't going to . . . And we weren't going to . . ."

Jesse looked uncomfortable. He composed himself quickly. "I will go find Nik and clear this up immediately," he said, walking off. "As you will, Your Highness," Jesse called after him. But he sounded relieved.

Several hours later Louis had failed to find his father's creepy Secatary. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was purposefully hiding from him. It was time to go see his father, officially, and make some princey demands. "He will no doubt be in his playroom," he growled. Then he stopped.

"Study," he said, correcting himself. Who knew who was listening? He stalked down the halls, not caring who heard the stomp of his feet in their silk slippers.

Seething and trying to track down the boy hadn't left him a chance to bathe or change since the night before. His thick cameral hair was coming out of its bands. Tendrils waved behind him like snakes. He scratched the side of his nose with a very unprincey rub of the back of his hand. He had sweated in the hot streets of the market and the Quarter of the Ragamuffins, and it had dried; the feeling of its still being there and not immediately washed off was new to him. Not bad, necessarily, but new.

He threw open the carved doors to the giant, airy "study" where his father spent all his time since his mother had passed away. He sighed as he passed the table with the giant clockwork model of Kaicia-whose tiny water clock really did work, making miniature suns and moons rise and fall with the day.

He rolled his eyes at the colorful silk kites hanging from the ceiling that were brought from the far east and looked like dragons. He found his father with his latest favorite toy, an intricate balancing game that had come from somewhere in the far west. Tiny carved animals like puzzle pieces had to be placed carefully on top of each other in descending order of size, finishing with the mouse.

Currently he held a yellow duck in his hand and was frowning at it. "Father," he said politely, trying not to startle him. He ground his teeth and reined in his impatience.