Chapter III

The King Condemned

Again the prince looked over, and Soryne looked down; but she could not withhold her curiosity, and bent her eyes upward without moving her head. There she could see Prince Epnotides staring blankly at her, and she reddened and would look at him no more.

At first she was nothing but surprised; but now a hint of shame came, shame that she had not recognized him for who he was and paid him the proper respect. And his prayers…

Soryne felt very sick all of a sudden. The blood drained from her face and she could hear it pumping furiously through her ears as she realized that this meant that the queen–

Suddenly she felt very faint and let her forehead rest on her hand.

It meant that the queen was planning on murdering the king.

Surely not, thought Soryne, and stole one more look at the prince, who no longer seemed to have any interest in her. However, Soryne’s initial goal of proving him different from Monepothes was dashed to pieces when she heard him say something to his mother over the hum of conversation; Princess Kechria then called him “brother,” and then Soryne knew that he and Monepothes were one and the same.

“Are you alright?” Asked Thymite, the muse who sat in the seat below her. Her voice was smooth like honey, her wit sharp and sweet.

“Yes,” mumbled Soryne, sitting upright and making sure that she wasn’t causing a scene.

“Why did you keep looking at the prince?”

Soryne heaved a sigh. “I wasn’t.” Of course Thymite would say that; she was the muse of love poetry.

“I wasn’t shaming you for it,” said Thymite, examining her nails.

Soryne sighed. Dinner could not end soon enough.

It soon did end, though, and Soryne escaped to a scarcely-frequented hallway and hoped to go to bed without delay. However, her plans were interrupted miserably.

“Excuse me!” Called someone, and Soryne froze in the empty hall. It was Prince Epnotides; she knew by the voice.

Soryne slowly turned around and faced the prince. Even in the dim torchlight of the hall she knew that it was indeed he who had been in the temple earlier, if she needed any more reassurance of his identity.

“Please, wait,” said the prince, catching up to her. Soryne bowed low, trying to avoid his eye.

“Your majesty,” said Soryne, keeping her eyes to the ground.

“I am sorry that I did not know you were a muse,” Prince Epnotides said, and the tone of his voice caused Soryne to wonder if he was angry with her.

“I must confess that I did not know you were the prince.”

Soryne heard a short laugh, though she still did not raise her face.

“Not even my own mother and sister knew me. I should apologize for not telling you. You see, I thought you were a priestess.”

Soryne suspected as much, and nodded at the tiles on the floor.

“So I suppose that this means you know all about the trouble with my mother.”

Soryne looked up at this; though she had nothing to say, she felt her face turning white as a sheet. “Y-yes… I… I cannot…” she could not manage anything intelligible.

“You must promise not to tell anyone.”

Soryne shook her head. “No, no, I shall not,” she assured him. “I was acting as a priestess, and even if I am not a real one, I am bound to their laws.”

Prince Epnotides took his turn to nod and play with his fingers; Soryne recognized the same awkward behavior from the temple.

“Might you… that is… would you be willing to help me?”

Soryne took a step back. “No… no, I cannot,” she blurted, looking backwards and wondering if she might excuse herself now.

“But you must! Surely the gods have placed you here in order to aid my situation!”

Soryne shook her head, her eyes flashing with fear at the mention of the gods’ will. “Who am I to toy with their machinations? I will do no such thing!”

Prince Epnotides sighed and let his head fall into his hands. “But the king’s life is at stake,” he whimpered. Exasperation reeked from him like the sweat on his brow.

“Murder is not something that the gods approve of, but what I said remains. Heroes in the old tales always get a prophecy when the gods want them to do something. I have received no such thing.”

“But what about when I asked the gods to speak through you?” The prince would not have Soryne’s excuses, and Soryne began to wonder if he could have her punished for this.

Still, Soryne shook her head. “That is… that is different.” Surely it was.

Just as Prince Epnotides had opened his mouth to retort once more, Soryne heard footsteps down the hall and craned her neck to see if they were being eavesdropped upon. The volume of their argument, though it had begun in whispers, had slowly been raised by accident.

Thysia appeared from around the corner, her red hair shining in the torchlight. When her eyes fixed upon Soryne standing there with the prince, she sputtered, “Oh! Pardon me, I’m sorry.”

“No, Thysia, if you are going to bed then I shall come with you.” Soryne nodded her head at the prince, fully aware that she should at least bow or something. However, she denied him the pleasure, and beckoned Thysia to come with her down the corridor.

The passageways to the muses’ hall were empty, and their footsteps echoed against the stones as they went along. The hall of the muses had a balcony on one side, so that the sea breeze and the chatter of the city might flow in with the fresh air. Now the stars hung about the sky and twinkled as Soryne watched them, wishing that she might never have been in the temple that morning.

“What were you doing, talking to the prince? What a joke!” Laughed Thysia presently, glancing over at Soryne with a twinkle in her eye.

Soryne looked at the floor, watching her sandaled feet as they stepped. “It was nothing. All very serious, you know.”

Thysia pouted. “You’re always serious. Lighten up, Soryne! The world is beautiful and exciting, and all you do is pray all day.”

“I help people,” Soryne reminded her. “The prince wished to be prayed for.”

“What for?” Thysia asked, furrowing her brow.

“That is none of your business, you silly girl,” said Soryne, scolding her, though thinking that she must think of something to recover her slip of words. “–But you know, he has been at war for the past ten years. Very hard life, I should think.”

“Oh,” said Thysia, skipping along the hall and reaching her room. “I suppose you’re right.”

Soryne sighed. “You must learn that some people have gone through a good deal of hardship, and life cannot be all laughs for them.”

Thysia smiled dimly and yawned, leaning against her doorframe and draping her arm over her head dramatically. “Good night, Soryne.”

Soryne shook her head, smiling slightly. “Good night.”

In her rooms, she began to comb her dark hair and mull over all that had occurred. Monepothes was really the prince, and that meant that Queen Ponyria was going to kill King Ophases, perhaps even as soon as he returned.

And then, in one harrowing moment, she realized that the prince had continued to speak to her whilst she was not in the temple. She was now rid of her obligation to keep his secret. If she told anyone about the queen’s plan, she would be perfectly in the right.

Soryne sat down on her bed, her legs unable to hold her. This was a whole different matter now, and yet she still felt bound to the prince’s confidence. There was no knowing what to do.