The late afternoon wind blew hard, shifting sands on the beach that spat at Erika’s face and wedged into the corners of her lips. White caps dotted the sea and curled the surf, spraying salt into the air. The breakers clamored in harmony with the rustling branches of the wild olive trees and graceful willows.

Erika fought with the corners of the sail. If Kairos would fasten his end down and then come and help her, perhaps she could get the shelter finished. They had already tied driftwood poles together with line they salvaged from the ruined skiff. She thought to use the sail as a roof to secure their shelter better, but with this wind blowing and Kairos not cooperating, it seemed their efforts were fruitless.

“What are you doing, Kairos?” she demanded, glancing at him, and then up the hill at Rory gathering firewood.

“Exactly what you told me to, Fairest. Tying knots.”

“And you can’t tie any faster?”

“No, Fairest, I cannot. When you let go of your end, mine gets away from me as well.”

How hopeless, she thought, at least until Rory returns. She depended on the young man from Fairmistle for everything. She should be stronger than this. Erika let go of the sail completely and walked away, leaving Kairos grappling with his end.

“It’s unnecessary,” he grumbled, tossing a log on the dithering canvas to keep it from blowing away. “I’ve slept under the stars more than once.”

The skiff lay on its side with two large holes in the bottom where the rocks had catapulted through. Destroyed! She assessed the damage one more time, peeling away a sliver of the broken rib and swinging it into the sea.

“How dare he!” she grumbled.

High tide already threatened to wash the craft away, and so Erika hurried to rescue her belongings and anything else that seemed usable. Line, floats, and nets in case they needed to do some fishing. After returning to the shelter with her pack, she strapped her quiver over her shoulder and picked up her bow.

“Aren’t you going to help me finish this?” Kairos asked.

“Not now. Let’s wait until Rory can help us. I’m foraging for food and exploring. Maybe I can get an excellent shot at the cheeky young hoodlum who had the audacity to insult me and ruin our skiff.”

Kairos eyed her weapon. “You mean to kill him? What if he’s beloved of those magical natives who best my spells? Then what?”

“I’ll shoot them too. We’re here for a purpose, Kairos, and it’s not to homestead this beach, it’s delivering the throne to my father.”

“You said you were going to admit guilt and try to reason with these people.”

She sighed and stared at the wizard. “I had intended to, yes. But wouldn’t you declare it an act of war to destroy a king’s boat?”

“Erika, think about what you’re saying. Didn’t you—,” he looked up the hill and around him as he crossed the beach to where she stood, lowering his voice. “Didn’t you kill their king?”

“They don’t know that. And look at the reception they gave us. They saw our banner, so they knew who we were.”

“They know their king died while fighting with our army. Perhaps they think someone assassinated him.”

He made a point she couldn’t deny. She sighed heavily and surveyed the hills.

“Let’s find a spokesperson for these people. We can convince them that the king died an accidental death. Are you coming with me?”

“Does it look like I’m with anyone else?” Kairos dusted the sand off his hands and gathered his cloak, wrapping his potion belt around his doublet.

Rory appeared on the trail carrying an armload of wood. He dropped it next to the fire pit.

“We should have a nice warm fire tonight with the wind dyin’ down. These sea breezes never last into the night. Did I hear the two of you were goin’ somewhere?”

“Yes. You’re welcome to come if you like. We’re hoping to find the late king’s castle.”

“What would you do if you did?”

“I hope to find some intelligent human beings occupying it. Noblemen. Perhaps we’ll do some negotiating and persuade the lords of this island that they need a leader, that they need King Tobias. No one wants to be weaponless against a dark lord. They need the king’s blessing.”

“Sure, they do,” Rory agreed. “But I’m not much for bartering on behalf of a king, I’m just a peasant boy from Fairmistle. A soldier. You’d be better showin’ your royal selves to noblemen without me. I’ll stay here on the beach and keep our little shelter safe if you don’t mind. I can fix that lean-to for you. I’m not bad with spear fishin’ and there’s plenty of driftwood I can whittle to a point. I’ll have us a nice hot dinner ready for you when you get back.”

“Thanks, Rory. I’ll look forward to tasting your cookery. Let’s go,” she said to Kairos and tugged him gently on the arm.

True, she, the wizard, and the peasant-soldier from Fairmistle wouldn’t be able to win any wars here, and not by themselves, but her idea of approaching an overseer of the late king’s estate seemed workable, so long as it wasn’t any of those vicious warriors who left them stranded or their dark-skinned brigadier with the ridiculous feather in his hat.

“Are you still planning on apologizing for killing the king?” Kairos asked her as they hiked up the hill on a well-worn trail.

“No. I’m sorry for what happened and have brought penance before my Creator. With the attitude of the rogues, we came across earlier, it might not be wise to divulge that piece of information just yet.”

“Well, that’s relieving!” Kairos exclaimed. “I worried that you’d apologize on your way to the gallows.”

“I’m not a complete dizzard.”

“You’re getting better by the day,” he agreed.

“Securing protection for this island is an honest atonement for what I’ve done. These islanders deserve a decent protector. There’s none so fine as my father.”

“There you go! Now if you can convince the nobles, we’ll have what we need, a boat home, hopefully.” Kairos pushed back an olive branch that hung low over the road, threatening to snag his silky cloak. The trail seemed to get narrower as they climbed with wild brush, scattered Olive trees, and bramble closing in on them.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to convince them? King Tobias is a legend. Even Casdamia acclaim his deeds, and the glory of his kingdom.”

“That young brigadier with the feather didn’t seem to know your father.”

“Oh Kairos, do you believe everything you hear? That man lied through his teeth.” When she reached a crossroads at the top of a hill, she stopped, took a deep breath of salty air, and admired the vista. A clear sky and a cerulean seascape surrounded the island. “It’s really beautiful here, isn’t it? Look, you can see our kingdom to the north, and the mountains we crossed recently. I wonder if Barin has returned home, or if the fishers reached the castle and delivered the message.”

“What message? What did you tell your father?”

“Not much. Just that I would come here. Would secure the throne for him by the time he sees me again.”

“That’s quite a promise, Fairest.”

Erika scratched her head and gave him a puzzled look.

“Not so much a promise as an end, Wizard,” she responded. “Father will be angry. But once we have this island secure, he’ll understand.”

She started walking again, her spirits lifted by the view and the fresh air. The rugged passageway leveled to a well-worn trail. Westward saw olive groves and a steady downslope toward another shoreline. The eastward track rose over gently rolling hills. Assuming the western trail led back to the sea, Erika chose the hills.

The dirt trail that meandered through grassy fields adorned with flowers, and butterflies soon became a cobblestone road. Houses appeared, at first one or two on either side of the road—small cottages similar to the whitewashed homes one would find outside the city in southern Prasa Potama where merchants and blacksmiths crafted their wares.

Further east blocking the sun, stood a city of houses stacked one on top of the other and joined their walls constructed of river rock, their roofs made with straw thatching. The city reminded Erika of Prasa Potama in some respects with the high-rise apartments, although much poorer in embellishments. Narrow cobblestone roads meandered through the settlement where tow-headed children played and women in long gray dresses chatted with one another. Erika brushed the sand off her cloak as she walked and combed through her thick auburn hair with her fingers.

“You look fine, Fairest,” Kairos whispered and smiled at a gentleman nearby. The man looked at them, turned, and hurried up the road where he met a woman and her child. They disappeared into a house.

“You look exceedingly wizardly,” Erika whispered back, sensing something was wrong. “And your hair is in disarray. You’re scaring the villagers.”

Kairos used the leather lacing he had borrowed from his shirt to tie his hair back.

“I’m devastated that I lost my hat.” He complained.

Oddly, the street ahead of them had emptied but for one old, bearded man standing on a corner near a shop. He leaned heavily on a walking cane and chewed the end of a pipe. Thinking he might give her directions or tell her who ruled over the island at the moment, Erika approached him. Perhaps he could tell her something about the late king. She smiled, but he only scowled at her, his eyes a cagey blue shielded by bushy eyebrows as white as snow.

“Good evening, sir,” she said.

He regarded her. His eyes scanned the sandy hem to her dress and her still-wet shoes. Her hair must be a mess. He glared at Kairos and then pointed the end of his pipe at her. “You the princess?”

Taken aback, she wondered how he knew. Erika stood upright and lifted her chin. “I am, good sir.”

“Someone’s looking for you.”

“Who might that be?” Kairos asked.

“The king,” he answered, squinting at them. The old man snickered, opened the door to the shop he’d been leaning against and quickly slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“What king?” Kairos asked in a whisper.

“My Father?”

“Yes, I imagine your father is looking for you. But I don’t think that’s who the old man was referring to. How did he guess you were a princess?”

Erika shivered, spooked by the encounter. When she turned around, the sight behind her shocked her more. A band of natives walked up the street with their spears held across their chests. They wore shells around their necks and beads in their hair, the same apparel the warriors in Tellwater had worn. She swallowed, remembering the horrid evening she killed the island king, and the solemn faces on the warriors who had carried him away. These were the same grave faces. Her heart raced, and she trembled. The lead man wore a bright blue tunic. He looked like the man who accosted them at the beach. Kairos took her arm and with his body shielding, hers turned her in the direction they had been walking.

“Just keep moving, Fairest,” he whispered. “Make believe you don’t see them. They’re probably just headed for…the castle.”

Erika let Kairos guide her and welcomed his body as a cushion between her and the warriors. They had nowhere to go but straight ahead. She held onto Kairos arm with one hand and the other clutched her bow hidden under her cloak.

The road led to the barbican, a gateway with two marvelous stone towers. A banner flew atop the battlements. She didn’t recognize the insignia, but she assumed it belonged to the late king—white and blue with some kind of majestic bird. As they proceeded, the moat grew deeper the further they walked. Erika worried that, though she wanted to enter the palace, if she changed her mind she’d be unable to escape the armed men behind her. She shot a worried glance at Kairos and clung tighter to his arm.

“I have my weapon,” she reminded him, eyeing the embankment that seemed to drop an immeasurable distance on either side of them.

“And do you have at least three dozen arrows you can project in a matter of seconds before one of these natives drives their spear through your heart? Fairest?”

“If that should happen, I trust the fire in your fingertips to help. Wizard.”

“You overestimate me.” He looked over his shoulder, smiled, and nodded at the warriors. “What you’re asking for is a Vouchsaver’s power. I’m afraid such force is not available at the moment,” he whispered between clenched teeth. “I’m not a Vouchsaver, nor will I ever be.”

The distance behind them shortened, and the warriors were so close on their heels that she could smell the incense they had been burning. Sandalwood, she thought.

The iron portcullis opened and before Erika could change her mind, turn around, parlay, or pretend a faint, the men had formed a half-circle around her and Kairos.

“This way,” the man in the blue tunic instructed them. He walked in front now while the others surrounded them. He led them through an empty courtyard, through a heavy double oak door, and inside the palace down a marble hallway. The man stopped at an entryway and signaled for a guard to open it.

“For the wizard.” He held out his hand to offer the accommodation to Kairos. Beads of sweat had formed on the wizard’s forehead, and he turned to the company behind him. “I…I have no words….”

“You’ll have time to think about it,” the chief said. He pushed Kairos into the room and shut the door, leaving a sentry standing guard.

“You, princess, come with me.”

“Do I have a choice?” Erika asked sourly. The chief glared at her. Yes, he was the same man who’d been on the beach.

“No,” the chief replied, tightening his grasp on his spear.

She followed the man—the horde of sentries behind her. They marched up a beautiful spiral stairwell to another room and shepherded her to the private quarters. When she stepped over the threshold, she turned around.

“My father will hear of this!” she exclaimed.

“That’s the intent,” the chief replied. He signaled four of the men to stand guard. They were rough-looking men, their spears long and deadly with spearheads the size of her fist having razor-sharp edges.

“One man watches the wizard, and you have four guarding me? I won’t have this!” she protested as the chief closed the ingress. She beat on the solid oak door once it closed, but it did nothing but bruise her hand.

She spun around, grinding her teeth, nostrils flaring,

The chamber looked nothing like a prison. In fact, it had a huge, canopied bed, silky cream-colored sheets, and a glass door that looked out over the island. Ornate furniture adorned the room, gilded with gold. A dresser with a silver mirror faced the bed, and on it were a fresh hairbrush and several beaded necklaces, along with a pitcher of clean water and a washbasin. Next to that, the door of a closet hung open and several tunics of colorful linen hung. A table garnished with fruit bowls and a bottle of wine welcomed her, and on the table lay a note inked on parchment.

To the Beautiful Potamian Princess.

Welcome to our island of love. We are so honored to have you visit. I hope you find your stay here to your satisfaction. It will be my great joy and pleasure to dine with you this evening.

I take it my fine servants have seen you to your room by now. You may thank Chief Silas in person for his escort tonight, as he’ll be feasting with us.

I am sending handmaidens to help you with your bath. Take a moment or two to nap. Rest well.

Arell of Rolland, the High King of Cho Nisi.

—postscript um—The man with the feather in his hat.

—post, postscript um—No need to bring your bow, I have my own.

She tore the note and threw it across the room. “That charlatan!”

A gentle knock at the door, and though Erika did not call out, nor did she open it, a young woman entered, and behind her several younger ladies. Beautifully attired in linen chitons, they carried hot steaming water and bowed when Erika acknowledged them.

“Good evening, Fairest?” the oldest of the servants said. “My name is Serena, and I’m here as your personal servant. We have bath water for you.”

Erika’s mouth fell open. A bath sounded wonderful, for all she’d been through traveling across the sea in a boat that stunk of fish, fighting insurgents, erecting a lean-to in the wind—she must really smell.

One girl brought her a jar of cream and opened the lid. “Many herbs” she smiled. “It will make you soft.”

“Soft?” Erika asked.

“She means the scent will calm you, and it’s good for your skin. We can bathe you, or if you’re shy, we can fix your tub and leave.”

“Yes. That would be best. I prefer to be alone when I bathe, thank you.”

The girls filled a copper tub in the corner of Erika’s room and bowed on the way out. All except the older girl. She waited until the others left. “Is everything well with you?”

“No. Why? Will you help me escape?” Erika fashioned the girl wouldn’t abet a flight, but what harm would come of trying?

The girl laughed. “I would never go against our king’s wishes.”

Touching the bath water with her fingers, Erika winced. She’d never be able to get in the tub with such scalding water. Perhaps this servant could provide information while Erika waited for the bath to cool.

“I heard your king had died.”

“Yes. Arell’s father. Such a good man, as well. All the island grieves for him, as does Arell.”

Erika hesitated for a moment—the guilt burned inside of her again. “I’m sorry for his loss,” she whispered, and swallowed, meeting the girl’s sympathetic eyes. “So, this Arell, you address him by his first name?”

“I’ve known him all my life. I grew up with him.”

Erika raised a brow. “And you’re his servant?”

“Yes, Fairest, if that’s what you wish to call me.”

What else should she call her? But then she had no idea what their customs were. “And this man with the feather in his hat, he’s not an impersonator? He’s really a king?”

“Yes. He is King Rolland’s son.”

“I see. My father didn’t know King Rolland had a son.”

“Many do not. Arell grew up with us, the Cho Nisi. He didn’t visit the castle often. He had no interest in politics. With his father’s death, duty brought him home.”

Well, that’s a surprise. What an abrupt ending for all her aspirations! She could return home and let her father know that someone already sits on the throne. An arrogant and boorish young fellow, but someone, nonetheless. How will that help the war with Skotádi, she didn’t know, nor could she assume anyone from her father’s kingdom would be able to confer with such an arrogant monarch.

“I hear you are our king’s prisoner.”

“Is that what he says? I hardly think so. We just haven’t had time to talk yet, but I’m sure he’ll release me and my friend as soon as we do.”

“Yes, of course.” Serena smiled, bowed, and left the room. The four guards still stood sentry outside her doorway.