Hera stood behind the counter, head bowed. I only saw the top of her hair peppered with flour. “Hera! It's me,” I cried out. “Please look!” Slowly she looked up, her bright brown eyes met my gaze as they slowly widened in shock.

  Cold shadows, and pain greeted me as I awoke, sobbing in a corner leaning against the moist stone wall. I pulled my legs to my chest. A stabbing pain coursed through my torso from my ribs. The shackles were long removed, but the sore blisters from their chafing burned as I gripped my legs tighter.

  My head hurt. Maybe it was from the guards roughly washing out some of the black dye. But guards pulling my hair wouldn't cause my temples to throb. I was glad that my shirt clung to my shoulders, wet and sticky with charcoal slime. Then I didn't think about the headache steadily growing in my skull.

  Shadows danced across the back wall as the dim fire from a torch outside the room crept its way in through the barred doors. Along with it, came the hushed whispers of men.

  “He's still, you know, a Ramseas, right?”

  “What you getting at, lad? And no, he ain't. He don't carry that name. The bastard probably don't even know which one sired him.”

  My heart sank in my chest. I never did get that answer out of my mother.

  Metal rattled as a boot shuffled across the stone floor outside the door. I didn't bother looking up from my feet.

  “But, he might, you know, have the magic?”

  Laughter echoed through my dim prison cell.

  “My father used to work as a royal guard. I asked him when I heard this bastard was coming,” he said gasping through his laughing. “No. He probably don't, not yet.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Bastard hasn't had any training! Even if he did have the magic, he couldn't use it anyway. Now, shut up.” The dull sound of a wooden pole hitting the floor ended the uneasy conversation.

  I inched my way toward the door, sliding across the slimy, prison floor. Gripping the cold bars, I peeked into the hall. There wasn't much to see. Some prisoners sat with their backs against the bars, others sang off-key tunes. I was the only prisoner with guards posted by the door.

  “Where am I?” I meekly asked the guard closest to me.

  “Shut up, bastard.” I fell backwards trying to avoid the end of the polearm that slapped the bars with a grating screech. “Back off.”

  “How about you stop calling me that.” I snapped at the guard. Warmth flushed suddenly in my cheeks and my hands clenched into fists. In an instant, raw emotion burned in my chest. It wasn't fair. I did nothing to deserve this.

  “Oh?” The guard slammed the polearm on the stone floor. His younger companion flinched. “Since when does a bastard princeling give orders?” He yelled, swinging at me with his weapon through the bars, the metal-covered wood scratched harshly against the iron. Other prisoners shouted curses about the royal family. Their voices echoed through the prison, adding to the growing pandemonium.

  “Sir! Is this necessary? He's just a kid!” Brown eyes full of pity looked down on me sprawled out across the floor. “You're in New Janderus. The...”

  “Bo, shut up! He's just as old as you are.” He tapped his weapon steadily on the stone. Tik. Tik. Tik. “Well, that Ilja bitch disappeared around the time you were born. I'd imagine the bastard didn't follow too long after that.”

  “Don't talk about my mother that way,” I growled through a tense, painful jaw.

  “Enough!”

  And that was that. Without the chatter of the guards, I was left to my own thoughts.

  By the ferry, the city guards swiftly blindfolded me and tossed me roughly into the back of a cart. I remember stopping to camp and the guards removed the blindfold long enough for me to drink something. They declined to feed me. Rations were already not enough they claimed.

  But why New Janderus? Why go to the effort to take me so far? Prisoners behind me began screaming and rattling the bars of their doors. I crawled back into the corner and curled up into a ball on the floor.

  Chainmail clicked together as a shadow appeared in front of my door.

  “So, My time is up, huh?” The older guard laughed.

  “Yes, Dav.” The newcomer spoke with a soft, calm voice. “You and Bo are free to head home. Captain's orders.”

  “Thank goodness, right in time. I wanted to kill him.” I heard the jingle of iron keys being handed over. I sighed. He's not letting me out. I don't know why I hoped he would. “Watch yourself John, the bastard got a mouth on him.”

  “Dav, he's what sixteen or seventeen? They all got mouths on them. But, before you go, word on the street is that the king’s on his way to New Janderus, again. No idea why,” the older man said.

  “For the bastard I'd imagine. Last I heard he found the Ilja bitch, but he wasn't with her,” Dav grumbled and shot a dark glare my way. “I wonder who gets to prep for the king’s arrival this time.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately I have extra guard duty too,” Bo interrupted.

  “Nobody asked you, let's go.” Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. “Have a good watch, John. See you tomorrow.”

  My stomach ached and growled. I sat up and hunched over holding my head in my hands. I never thought I'd be thankful for the times that my mother forgot to feed me after her long days at the market. My old friend hunger was back for a visit.

  “Now lad,” I flinched, startled by John addressing me so kindly, “Haven't they fed you yet?” I glared over my shoulder at the guard observing me from the other side of the bars.

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  “I'll make sure you get something to eat,” he smiled through the bars. I scrunched myself together as tight as I could. Something about his kindness unnerved me.

  John's polearm fell to the floor with an ear-deafening clatter. Other prisoners shouted taunts at the sighing guard.

  “I'm too old for this shit,” I barely heard him mutter over the ruckus out in the halls. “Listen, lad. I get that you don't wanna talk. But I'm stuck here for a few hours and you're the only company I got.”

  I stared at the wall. One, two, three ... twenty links in that chain I thought I counted. I was glad they didn't put me in those. Then again I'm taller than the average man. I shook my head, clearing it of its poisonous thoughts.

  John shuffled behind me just outside my cell door. “You know, I have a son back home. He's about your age.”

  His soft voice reminded me of Fern. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. Just the thought of Fern was enough to break me down. I tried to hide it, but a lone sniffle filled my lifeless cell with its muffled sound.

  “Oh, lad. Come to the door and talk. It's better than sitting alone.”

  John was right. As much as I didn't trust his kindness, I'd rather listen to him than my own thoughts. Slowly, I shuffled toward the door and sat curled up, looking over my knees at the guard outside. I couldn't see much, only his brown hair and gleaming chainmail. His broad shoulders blocked the light from the torches.

  “Now, ain't that better, lad,” John chuckled to himself. He looked me over through the iron bars. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I knew my boy was sitting in a prison cell.”

  Minutes of eerie silence ticked by. I glanced out of the bars hoping to hear at least whistling from other prisoners, but there was nothing.

  “Which one did it, lad?” John whispered while he pressed his forehead against the bars.

  I stretched out my sore legs and leaned back onto my hands. A sharp pain shot up my arm.

  “I don't understand, sir.” I barely got the sentence out before a coughing fit overcame me. Everything was so dry, like dusty pine needles slowly disintegrating on the forest floor. I looked up to the glint of a canteen hanging by my face. I carefully grabbed it with two hands and eagerly drank every last drop. I nodded my thanks, handing it back to John.

  “This place is no place for a young man like you.” He shook his head, the reflection of the torch bounced off his metal helmet. “Which of the Ramseas twins did it? Ever since word got out about you, everyone's been in an uproar. But, there hasn't been one peep from the royal palace about who did it.”

  “I don't know, sir.” Everything hurt from sitting so long on the cold, hard floor. No amount of shuffling, sitting, or lying lessened the dull pain in my hips and back. It's just not fair. I'm not a thief or a murderer, yet here I was.

  “Is that all you can say, lad?” I nodded and looked away. John's piercing gaze sent a shiver down my spine. I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger. The city guards did a terrible job of washing it. Black and cream splotches covered its entire length.

  “I sparred often with the twins when they were about your age,” I heard his armor clank as he shuffled his weight. “It's hard to tell. Your expression and eyes radiate Augundornis, but the way you carry yourself, is just like Arnameaus. Pardon me for dropping titles, lad.”

  “Arnameaus,” I whispered into my knees. It sounded right, almost felt right. I couldn’t remember the name in my mother's letter, but something about Arnameaus seemed familiar. If I ever see Fern again, I'll need to ask him.

  “Did you say something, lad?”

  “No, sir.”

  ──── ? ────

  John kept his word. Occasionally food was dumped through the bars onto the floor of my cell. If the guards were in a good mood, they allowed the servant to leave it on the plate. Not that I wanted to eat much of it anyway, crusty bread and watery gruel weren't much better than nothing. More often than not, servants carried back full plates.

  Many pairs of guards came and went. Some were kinder than others, but I had yet to see John again. New prisoners came roaring in kicking and screaming. The smell they dragged in reminded me of the tavern I used to sit at with other village boys when Hera couldn't come out. It still makes me gag. Nobody came for me.

  Without a window, the hours, maybe days, all blurred into one moment of endless nothingness. Hour after hour, I slumped against the damp wall watching the guards’ shadows dance across the stones by my door.

  And there I sat, my chin bobbing against my chest as I slowly dozed off.

  “Hey lad,” a familiar voice called to me, “Did ya miss me? Probably not.”

  I looked up and John's smiling face filled the space between the bars. I didn't notice before how the lines by his eyes seemed to smile too. Relief washed over me in a wave, seeing him by the door.

  “Now lad,” he laughed, “judging by that smile creeping across your face, you did miss me.” I nodded, turning to face the door.

  “Shut up, John.” Another, familiar but harsher voice echoed through the halls.

  “Oh what a pleasure, guard duty with Dav.”

  Silence. Every time John tried starting a conversation with me or Dav, he was immediately hushed by his grumpy companion. I don't know how long we sat. Nobody made a sound.

  “You hear that?” John whispered, loud enough for me to hear.

  “Shut up, John.”

  “No Dav. Listen.”

  I inched closer to the door, straining to hear what John heard through the thick stone walls. It was faint. Ding. Dong. Ding.

  “Well, his majesty enters New Janderus and we're stuck down here with the bastard,” Dav grumbled scraping his boot across the floor.

  “Oh, I would rather be down here than up there with all the ruckus,” John chuckled. “Not to mention, who knows what mood King Augundornis is in. Better here than there.”

  If looks could kill. Even I shuddered at the hatred radiating from Dav's eyes.

  “With a little luck, we'll be here when the king comes for this filth.” Dav looked me in the eyes. I don't even have words for what I wanted to do with that man.

  “Dav, knock it off. He's just a boy.”

  Dav didn't respond. He looked at me with an uneven smile. He laughed but no sound came out. “You'll be wishing for death by the time his majesty is done with you. I've heard the rumors.”

  “Dav!”

  “Haven't you ever wondered why the prince is so docile, John?” Dav tightened his grip on the polearm. I watched his fingers roll it in his palm.

  “No, Dav,” John shook his head. “It's not my business. That's their business.”

  I need to get out of here. I don't know what rumors Dav has heard, but I do remember the cruelty of the man in my vision. His fist knocking my mother to the ground. The sickening sound of her crying out as she hit the floor. King Augundornis. I saw him. No docile prince would beat a harmless woman until she bled. And that was without using magic.

  Panic gripped me with its ghostly hand. The walls closed in on me as my breath came in quick, shallow bursts.

  “John, he looks like he's gonna piss himself,” Dav cruelly laughed. “I've seen dead men whiter than him.” John looked at me with pity.

  I looked back at the two guards. Whatever panic I felt was quickly consumed by the burning rage of pure hatred fueled by something that caused my blood to stir in my veins. A feeling I hadn't felt in weeks. That other feeling only fueled my anger and hatred for what these two men stood for, for what they and their kind have done to me. The feelings grew stronger. I wanted out and now was my chance.

  I stood up without looking away from the two men. My fists clenched.

  “You two will do what you need to do to get me out of here,” I commanded them.

  The expressions on their faces melted away leaving a blank canvas, devoid of emotion. Dav dropped the polearm and it fell to the floor, rattling as it bounced on the stone. I shuddered seeing Dav's lifeless eyes motion toward the keyring on John's belt.

  John, silent as a mouse, pulled the keyring from his belt. I watched, pain crept into my jaw from clenching it. The lock slowly clicked open and John pulled on the door.

  “You saw nothing here,” I coldly said. A strange sensation consumed my mind and body.

  I stood in my cell, glaring at the two men as they turned to face each other with their lifeless eyes. I winced as a sharp light reflected into my eyes. Two metallic thuds, one and then the other, hit the ground. Other prisoners howled and yelled, filling the hall with their excitement.

  I looked at my feet. Bloodied steel and two lifeless bodies. I gingerly stepped over them. The church bells grew louder as I walked up the stairs and out the door into the cold air of the twilight hour.