Chapter 4: The Pain of Truth

The stiff smell of parchment and dried ink seemed to fill Mortesen's nostrils and freeze there, threatening to choke him. He stared at his father and Duke Windsor, uncomprehending.

"I...I... You want me to…fight?"

"Mortesen, you are sixteen years old," the king said, leaning against the long table in his private study. "I fought my first battle alongside my father when I was a year younger than you."

"But...this is against our own people, not some other country," he protested. His chair had toppled over when he'd jumped up in shock a moment earlier and he didn't bother to right it. "We're supposed to protect them!"

The duke smiled in something very like sympathy. He had passed on the short, clipped shape of his quills to his daughter, Sherry, but his fur was pale green rather than yellow.

"I know how you feel, young cousin, but sooner or later you will have to take up the sword against living people. It is far better to learn this at your age than later when you are far too set in your peaceful ways. You must understand that sometimes your own people can be your enemies as easily as a foreign army."

"Please... I don't think I can do it. If I kill anyone I'll be making widows and orphans at the same time. I can't stand the thought, Father!"

"Mortesen," the king's voice was solid rock now. "I want you to understand something: causing death is a horrible thing, but sometimes it is unavoidable. I know you would much rather the soldiers take care of this and you yourself have nothing to do with it, but if you are not willing to do these things, then you cannot morally send others to do them in your stead."

The prince was doing his best to hold back the noises that tried to force their way out of his throat. Vivid images of thrusting his sword into the unarmored chest of some inexperienced, desperate peasant who was only fighting for his home and family flashed into his mind and refused to leave.

"Isn't there another way to keep Sandstone Valley from outright rebellion?" he begged. "Negotiations of some kind?"

The week before, Duke Windsor had expressed some concern for one of the smaller towns in his area because he hadn't heard from its baron in over two months. He sent a trustworthy servant to go observe the town for a day without being noticed. When he returned with a report, the duke immediately brought him to the castle to inform King Negolas.

Mortesen had stood beside his father as the servant described seeing the town in Sandstone Valley preparing itself for an assault, building spiked palisades for the outer walls as well as forging weapons. At the time he'd used his truth-telling and indicated there was nothing false in the report.

"Cousin," Duke Windsor said in a quiet voice. "I didn't want to bring this up before because I did not believe you would approve, but since your son seems so set on another option I cannot keep the possibility to myself."

"Very well, out with it," Negolas prompted.

"I know the vast majority of these villages that rebel are filled with people who will fight savagely if they see your men coming down on them, but they are not soldiers. If they are presented with a flag of peace, they may listen, though it's unlikely—but far more proof that you wish a peaceful settlement would be to bring your wife and young sons along. To them it would be the sort of sentimental thing that would make a much greater impression."

"I do not like bringing my family into a potential battle," the king replied, but there was something thoughtful in his voice too.

Mortesen placed his hands on the table, his attitude now eager and hopeful. "Father, would this not be the most desirable outcome? To avoid needless death on both sides? Even if you did have a show of force, as long as the queen, Rakar and I are there, they may be willing to at least listen first."

Silence dropped over the study as the monarch considered his options. At last he gave a slow nod.

"Very well. Tomorrow at daylight we will all ride out with three squads, but I want another five to follow half a mile behind us. Now Windsor, what were you saying about a shorter route to Sandstone Valley?"

"A deer track, really," he answered, "but it will cut over an hour off your trip. It gets rather narrow when passing above the river gorge, but it is perfectly safe. I've traveled it several times in the past."

While they wrapped up details, Mortesen could barely keep the relief from dragging him down to the floor on limp legs. He picked up his chair and sat down again, then began to sift through some of the letters on the table. Since he would be the recipient of reports and complaints in the future, his father encouraged him to look through them on occasion. He fastened onto one in particular and once the duke was dismissed, he held it out.

"Father, this letter is about the roads that were washed out last month during the rainstorms... That happens at least twice a year in the hill country, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I don't know what they expect me to do from here," he answered gruffly. "The baron who sent that letter is perfectly capable of repairing them himself but he won't do it unless he's forced into it. Stingy rat. I've always had problems with him. 'Can't spare the workers or the resources.' Such rubbish!"

Mortesen moved over to the map that was inlaid into the long oak table and began to trace some of the roads with his finger. "What if there was a more permanent solution? Suppose the main roads were paved, along with the roads to smaller towns? Especially the roughest ones."

"That would be desirable," Negolas said, looking over his son's shoulder at the map, "but to hire professional stone-cutters and get the stone transported... Too expensive, too slow, and too ambitious by far."

"Father, what if you hired Streetkeepers instead of stone-cutters?"

"Children?" The king raised an eyebrow skeptically.

When he began spending more time in Cosium Town, Mortesen had noticed the roving band of youngsters with Earth magic, specifically gifted toward stone. For a few coppers they would repair potholes in the streets and cracks in buildings, though far more often they were called on to fix smaller things like broken crockery.

"Not necessarily. They got their magic from somewhere, didn't they? I wouldn't be surprised if many of their parents or older siblings would be willing to take time off from their regular jobs to earn more money by paving the roads. And because of their magic they could use local stone rather than that from the quarries."

"I don't see how that solves the problem with the washed-out roads."

"Offer compensation if the towns can get workers to pave their road out to the main one. Once it's done, I'll wager they won't have any trouble at all during the rainy season."

Negolas sighed. "If every town joined in on this project I would have to offer them the same arrangement. Our treasury would be empty in a matter of months."

"But that's only if it all happened at once and if the barons were the ones in control of the paving," his son pointed out. He had been considering this very problem. "It could be limited to a handful of towns for the first year and trusted members of the castle staff could supervise as well as pay the workers directly. That way you would be sure barons aren't overworking the peasants or cheating you. It's practically a Royal command that they relieve a dozen or so workers who wish to volunteer. Next year you could choose a different set of towns, and within ten years I'm sure most of the paving will be done except in the most remote areas."

The king appraised his son with a thoughtful gaze. "I suppose you would suggest next that I extend the offer to women too?"

Mortesen blinked, the idea not having crossed his mind.

"After the demonstration last night in the gardens, I don't see why not. And if the girls in our kingdom are that talented, just imagine what their fathers and brothers can do." The king's tone was light, but there was seriousness in his face. "I wonder if it may be beneficial to conduct a census this year, also finding out about magic type and strength."

Something in Mortesen's chest tightened at the thought. There had been four minor rebellions in the past six months. If he did this census, no matter what his real intentions were, it would be perceived as the Crown trying to establish a different sort of control over the peasantry. Things could escalate into violence quickly. But he couldn't find a way to bring this up without insulting his father.

"I also wanted to ask you something, my son." He tapped a folded letter against the table in a businesslike manner. "The past two nights you've spend quite a lot of time with that well-dressed young lady. Rakar tells me she looks familiar to him, but he can't say for certain where he's seen her. Who is she?"

The prince clutched the table's edge, but he tried not to overreact. Did Rakar remember Athena from her ball the year before? Or was it from when he saw a glimpse of her in Mortesen's soul that night after she kidnapped him?

"Her name is Thia. I've...met her before. We get along."

His father sat down in his ornate chair, casting a shrewd look at him. "Mortesen, I hope you're not entertaining any thoughts of marrying. This ball was for your enjoyment—not for your future queen."

"I haven't made any advances on her, Father. But what's wrong with picking any of them?"

Negolas's gaze grew cold. "Do you have any idea what intermarriage with peasantry could do to our family? At least with a noble there's half a chance the Royal gift will appear, as in your brother's case, but I've only heard of two instances in hundreds of years where a pure Royal had a child with a peasant and retained it. We can't have our main bloodline diluted like that. Aside from the nobles, none of those girls are eligible. Keep that in mind."

"I will, Father. But..." This talk of Royal gifts made him think of his own and the gut-wrenching feeling from the night before came surging back. "Is my gift... Am I the first to develop truth-telling?"

"No. I believe it was primarily found in the Royal family of Ayortha. It took three generations to resurface in ours. Why?"

"Do we have any records about its exact qualities?"

"Doubtful." The king saw the set of his son's jaw and wondered why he seemed so troubled at this answer. "But if you would like to send an inquiry to Ayortha, you are certainly welcome to do so. I'm sure you'll receive a prompt reply since you are the crown prince."

"Thank you. I'll do that right away."

That Evening...

"Where did you find all those portraits?" Athena asked.

She fluttered a hand at the wall where life-sized paintings of the Royal family going back nine generations were hung. Little clusters of girls had gathered in front of them, looking up at their ancestors with fascinated pride.

Mortesen shrugged. "There's an upper hallway in the castle that has every stage of the Royal family all the way back to Cosium's first king. I just had these particular ones moved down here since the maidens are descended from them according to the information they gave when they first came."

"It was also thoughtful to bring in the soldiers. No matter how much they've enjoyed the first two nights, I think all these girls were really looking forward to experiencing a ball, not just a party."

The black hedgehog looked over at the soldiers, mostly cadets, in full uniform and the majority paired off with maidens. He spotted Alexei with one of two skunks who had attended. She was looking more at her feet than him, but his hands kept her steady so that they glided across the dance floor. He seemed to be much more relaxed than Mortesen would have expected.

His grin had a devilish playfulness about it. "You should have seen their faces when I announced in the barracks that I needed over a hundred young, single volunteers to come here and dance with the girls tonight. There were a few who were excited, but most looked like I'd just asked them to run a gauntlet of death."

Athena giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. "It certainly doesn't look that way now."

When Mortesen looked back at the blue hedgehog, he noticed her eyes drifting toward the banquet tables. "Would you like some fruit or pastries?"

A shy expression crossed her face. "It's been a long time since I ate some of these dishes. Pure sugar is expensive and hard to come by in the countryside. The best I can get is molasses, and not very often."

"I'll get you a whole plate of sweets," he promised.

As he was going down the table, picking out what he thought she would like most, he nearly bumped into Alexei coming from the other direction...and doing the same thing. They shot looks at one another's plates and seemed to understand without any explanation.

"So this isn't as bad as you thought it would be, is it?" the prince asked, one eyebrow raised.

Alexei gave the curt nod of a professional soldier. "My expectations were far different from the reality. Trina and her younger sister are quite pleasant company," he said, indicating the two skunks who were giggling to one another halfway across the room.

"Just 'pleasant'?" Mortesen wondered with some skepticism. "It looked to me like you were really enjoying yourself during that last dance."

Bright red touched the tips of Alexei's ears, but he answered without any embarrassment evident in his voice. "Trina said she's never danced publicly, but she knew this would be her only opportunity to do so in the ballroom of Cosium Castle. I wanted to make the experience a good one for her."

"Is that the only reason?" he asked with a suggestive nudge.

The skunk stepped away, giving Mortesen a piercing look.

"I admit she is lovely and I've never met another maiden quite so captivating, but your interest in these affairs is very odd, my Prince. You've never been prone to smalltalk and there is something quite relaxed about you this evening. Have you been drinking too much of that cider? Or something stronger?"

"I'm not intoxicated, Alexei. I've just been enjoying myself for three consecutive nights, that's all," he replied with a cheerful shrug. "Too bad Rakar still won't come and join everyone. I'm sure Thia wouldn't mind meeting him."

"Oh, yes. The hedgehog everyone has been talking about."

The prince went still, not realizing anyone besides his father had noticed him spending so much of the ball with Athena.

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," the skunk confirmed, adding a sugar-crusted strawberry to the plate in his hands. "The rumors among the servants go that she's some impoverished noble from Marcuria who fled during the war. Is it true?"

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "I'd better get back to her."

Alexei watched him return to the blue hedgehog who seemed intent on keeping to the edge of the ballroom, wondering if the prince was really acting with the proper reserve to keep from leading the girl on. Deciding he could do nothing about it, he rejoined the two young skunks, one of whom tried to keep her blush back as he offered her a cinnamon pastry.

On the far side of the room, Athena accepted the plate Mortesen brought and daintily ate its contents as they listened to the music and observed the dancers. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way her head tilted slightly to the left whenever she was happy and how ever since she'd started attending the ball two nights earlier it always seemed like she was trying not to let a smile out, but couldn't help herself.

The dress she wore this evening was the loveliest of all. Entirely white, edged with feathers and filmy lace , silver threads woven through tiny, dangling chains that were studded with quartz crystals...it made her look like a sterling swan princess. The only thing missing was a matching tiara.

A few minutes later he relieved her of the plate and set it on one of many tables scattered throughout the room, then he gave an uncertain bow, saying, "Would…you like to dance, Athena?"

Mortesen hadn't meant to use her real name, but it popped out.

The smile froze and she stiffened, eyes slowly drifting over to meet his. They fastened on as she stared with an expression he didn't recognize except for a tinge of shock. Wordlessly she lifted one gloved hand and he took it, leading her into the open.

Their feet moved together with the music's rhythm. She didn't look unhappy, but she didn't smile, making Mortesen wonder what was going through her mind. For the first time he noticed her slippers with the glittering glass beads.

"Those are lovely. I don't think I've ever seen shoes like that before."

"My mother's," she answered simply, then pretended to focus more on the steps of the waltz.

It was over in a few minutes, but Athena broke away from him before he could ask her for the next dance. She practically fled to the nearby balcony and Mortesen followed at a slower pace, thinking. The last time she'd worn a fancy dress and danced was at her own ball. Was that what bothered her? But when he'd mentioned it before (especially her handling of Prince Steffan) she had almost been amused.

Then a new thought struck him. Maybe he was wrong, but for some reason he suspected who it was that she was remembering.

The dark hedgehog stepped out of the ballroom's warm light and breathed in the autumn air that almost burned his throat with its crisp coolness. She was just a shadow at first, then as his eyes adjusted he could see the white fabric of her dress, but the slouching shoulders betrayed her disquiet.

"It's your brother, isn't it?"

She spun around, crimson eyes wide. "How did you know?"

"I'm not sure."

Athena swallowed, looking more fragile than he'd ever seen her. "He asked me to practice dancing when we were little...the same way you did. Exactly. The words, the inflection, how you bowed...the way you said my name. I thought youwere him for a second. It will be ten years this spring." She looked toward the distant horizon forcefully. "Ten years since my parents buried him in some nameless grave as though they were ashamed of him."

A different sort of silence fell between them. One that ate away at their comfort with one another and made the world seem large and empty.

"Athena...what happened to Justus?"

She didn't look at him.

"It was terrible of me to say what I did before. I was angry and wanted to hurt you in some way after you refused to let me go. Now I understand you must have loved him dearly if belittling his memory was that painful to you. I really am sorry."

"...He wasn't just my twin. He was my best friend in the whole world," Athena said, her voice almost deadpan. "We were five. He was hiding and it was my turn to find him. The assassin must have been watching us all morning for an opportunity. When Justus went to a hay barn in the farthest corner of the castle grounds, that badger came out and sealed the door with magic then set the building on fire."

Mortesen couldn't see her face.

"I saw the assassin running just after the fire started. I don't remember what I threw, but it hit him so hard that it knocked him out. Justus...he couldn't get out...he was crying and begging for help... No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get the door open. I screamed until servants came and dragged me away. They couldn't do anything either. Justus burned alive there, alone..."

The pain in her voice was almost tangible. She leaned against the wall near ivy that wound its way through the railing, stroking a leaf with the tip of her finger.

"Later when they pulled his body from the ashes, I pushed them away and wouldn't let anyone touch him—not even my parents. I kept talking to him, begging him not to leave me—that I was sorry for not being strong enough and I'd take care of him forever if he'd just come back."

She stopped, taking several deep breaths. Mortesen started to take her hand but she pulled away with a jerk.

"Sorry," he apologized. His attention was so focused on her that he didn't notice the edge of a shadow just inside the ballroom as someone poised there with a listening ear. "What happened to the assassin?"

"Father made him talk. He found out who hired him and then had the badger burned alive so he could experience the same torment Justus went through. The nobles who were responsible slowly disappeared as my father found ways to orchestrate their deaths while making it look accidental."

"And then you started pretending to be your brother?"

"Yes. Almost immediately. We looked so much alike that it wasn't hard to fool everyone," the former princess sighed, looking more exhausted than he'd ever seen her. "Our mother had such difficult labor with us that a physician had to heal her during the birth. It saved her life, but it was a blind healing and damaged something at the same time. She could never have more children. If the nobles had found out that the only male heir was dead, my father would have been overthrown within a month."

"But how could they keep from finding out? Surely the castle servants knew the truth."

"Well, there's a little-known secret of my family," she said. "Generations ago one of the kings began replacing servants he knew were disloyal with the poorest commoners he could find. Their gratitude and devotion to him was so strong that every king after that continued to seek out those most in need of work, whether or not they were skilled. Our servants didn't care that I wasn't Justus or that I was living a lie. They did everything they could to protect my family."

Mortesen slid his fingers close to hers once more, but didn't try to take her hand. He just brushed softly up against her glove. She didn't move away this time.

"I'm sorry you went through so much."

"The worst part was losing Justus...and nobody mourned him except me."

He tried to find a less painful topic that might pull her out of this sadness. "And your parents are in Cosium now?"

"Only their bodies," she replied morbidly. "Their graves are a short distance from my home. The manacles I used on you are the same ones that were put on my father to restrain his magic after we came to this country. Things could have turned out differently if my parents had been able to use their Elements. Mother might have been able to heal him when...when it happened."

"Oh... I'm—"

"Don't say it again," she interrupted, twirling to glare at him. "I'm so sick of that word! Everyone says the same thing to the point that it doesn't have meaning anymore. That's why I became Karok. I was tired of seeing the misery all around me and apologizing for the way I couldn't do anything to help. My skills made me perfect for the role and I was finally able to make a difference."

Behind them the shadow disappeared, its owner giving a serpent's smile.

For a time they didn't speak because Mortesen couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound like an apology. She was right. There was no point in saying it again and again, especially when he wasn't doing anything about it. The silence went on so long that they lost track of time, but he couldn't find it in himself to break it.

"Mortesen," she said at last, "how did you find me two weeks ago?"

"Oh... My best friend was infuriated when you appeared, declaring yourself to be the legendary Karok," he answered. "He considered it such an insult to the real Karok that he swore to bring you down and reveal you as a fraud. So ever since you first showed up he's been keeping records of—"

Two figures blocked the light from the ballroom, causing Mortesen to cut off. The green stripes on their left shoulders identified them as members of the Queen's Guard, and since they were only answerable to Priscilla he always held them in low esteem. Their faces were impassive, making him instantly cautious.

"What is it?"

"Excuse me, my Prince," one of them said, stepping around him and grabbing Athena roughly by the arm.

There was a heavy click as a manacle closed around her wrist, but she yanked it upward at once, the metal bashing into the guard's nose and throwing him back into the wall. The other tried to capture her, but Athena swung the loose manacle on its chain like a flail, keeping him at bay until she darted forward to drive a fist into his gut. The blow knocked him flat.

Mortesen had stood back, stunned at this attack on his guest as well as afraid to get close while she was fighting. The moment her eyes flew back toward him, he could see the blame in them. The betrayal.

"I trusted you," she whispered. Her hands began to glow with green light and the ivy along the castle's outer wall writhed like a nest of agitated snakes. "I trusted you!"

Vines sprang loose from the stone, wrapping around her protectively. A moment later they carried her away and he ran to the railing, shouting down, "I didn't do it! Athena, please—I swear I had nothing to do with it!"

"Young prince," a voice with false courteousness about it said from behind. "I believe your father has some things he would like to discuss with you about 'Karok'."

Mortesen's fists tightened, the knuckles standing out. Fury sizzled beneath his skin as he wanted nothing better than to throttle her. "You did this, Priscilla. You found out, didn't you?"

She grabbed his shoulder, digging the nails in deep. "You will address me by my title,boy."

The black hedgehog smacked her hand away, spinning to face her. "You don't deserve it."

"Nor do you deserve to be the crown prince," she snarled. There was something dangerous kindled behind her eyes now. "I married Negolas first. Amuera was a bargaining chip for a treaty once he was already king—a lesser daughter whose demeanor made her too soft and timid to be a strong queen. She should have been nothing but a concubine, but because she was a Royal he didn't mind marrying her as well. If he hadn't, my Rakar would have been the heir and you'd be living in some distant manor instead of the castle. You're a usurper, Mortesen. You stole the throne from my son."

"That wasn't my decision," he hissed back, hackles rising at the insult against his deceased mother. Mortesen was too angry to consider what might have been going through the queen's mind.

He didn't know the heartache she suffered during the first five years of marriage, and she had lost count of the sleepless nights spent begging Cosmos for a child, even secretly visiting the deity's temple to supplicate.

She'd kept the pain inside, not letting anyone know how useless she felt when Negolas then married Amuera. The fact that his much younger new wife had gotten pregnant within weeks of the wedding made Priscilla herself look like a barren old hag. Three months afterward when she'd excitedly told her husband she too was pregnant, he laughed and made the offhanded comment that if she had managed it earlier, he wouldn't have married another woman. He'd said it as a joke, of course, but she seized those words, using them to fan her resentment of Amuera and Mortesen.

They were practically the same age, and Priscilla believed Rakar had a better claim to the throne since she'd been queen much longer. Unfortunately Negolas didn't see it that way.

"You can still hand the crown over to the son of the king'sreal wife, but I know you won't. The best I can do is take away any glimmer of happiness from you so that you experience some of the bountiful misery your life has brought to me." She lifted up the hem of her skirts and glided into the ballroom, throwing back, "You'd best hurry to Negolas's study. He isn't precisely pleased with you at the moment."

Knowing there wasn't much choice, he stepped over the legs of the guard who was just beginning to sit up, holding his bleeding nose. None of the girls inside had noticed the commotion, so he passed through them with a fake smile and quick excuses as they tried to thank him for the wonderful time they'd spent at the castle.

All too soon the prince reached his destination.

"Mortesen, close the door."

He did, noticing the way the midnight-black hedgehog stood at the windows with hands clasped tightly behind him. The only time King Negolas did that was when he was trying to avoid shouting.

"Is what the queen told me true? The girl you've spent so much time with is really Karok?"

"Yes, Father."

His father turned, brown eyes smoldering. "Is that what this strange invitation to so many peasants was all about? Finding her again?"

Mortesen stood still.

"Answer me."

"Yes," he admitted. "I doubted I could find her on my own and I couldn't invite her directly without making you wonder and ask questions. I needed to hide a leaf in a forest. That's why I asked all those girls to come. They were my forest."

The explanation evoked an intense anger he'd only rarely seen in his father. "You lied to me."

"I never said—"

"You called Karok 'he' even though you knew that girl was the one. Willfully deceiving is the same as lying and you know it." He shoved a book off the table, some loose pages flying out. "I expected you to value the truth since your gift deals directly with it. Of all the people in this castle I never thought I had reason to doubt my trust in you."

"Father, I intended to tell you. I simply needed time."

Negolas scowled. "And how do I know you really mean that or if you are just saying it because you were found out? Do you truly want to betray your kingdom by purposely letting her loose?"

Still simmering from his encounter with Priscilla, these words caused something inside the prince to boil. Being accused of betraying his country when he was really trying to help made all the shame of breaking his father's trust grow pale. Mortesen began to shout, unable to keep his frustration subdued any longer.

"She wouldn't need to disguise herself and raid the barons if there weren't so many injustices that you allowed through your negligence!"

Immediate silence fell. Never in his entire life had he spoken in such a way to his father.

Negolas took three strides forward and backhanded him across the face. The young hedgehog's teeth clacked together as black and neon-colored spots filled his vision for a few seconds. The brief numbness was replaced by a solid ache and there was a silvery taste in his mouth, but he had refused to let himself stumble at the blow.

"Get out."

Mortesen gave a stiff bow that had no respect behind it and left without a word.

A/N: Seriously, if my teenage kid said something like that to me, I would have done the same thing.