The Chosen Prince (24 page)

Aria looks from her brother to the king of Arcos,
then back again. Something momentous is happening here, something she doesn't understand. (She ought to; she's been given plenty of clues: all that talk of dreams and a lost brother, the questions about Teo and whether he was happy, and how very alike they are.) But she hasn't made the connection yet. All she knows is that Alexos is distraught, kneeling in the grass, and her brother is angry.

“You!”
Teo says again, moving toward the king now, his cheeks burning. “You were my
brother
!”

Alexos rocks back as if struck by the word:
were.
“Yes,” he says.

“And I was in a little boat on the edge of a river. There was no fog in that place—”

“Arcos.”

“I climbed into the boat because I wanted to please you. I thought we would—”

“—go fishing.”

“Because you were sad and I wanted to make you happy again. You'd been away for a long time and I missed you. I was so glad we were together again. I was also frightened because you seemed so changed. But I never expected . . .”

Alexos hangs his head. Teo comes nearer. He is standing directly in front of his brother now, staring down at the dark, curling hair, so very like his own.

“You untied the line from the post and flung it over the bow; but you didn't get into the boat. You
pushed
it away, looking at me the whole time with this face I didn't recognize. You
pushed
me out into the current that carried me down the river and out to sea. And I was
just a little boy
; I was scared and I was alone—and so very wounded that
you
, of all people, would do that to me!”

There is stunned silence. Alexos has raised his head and looks directly into his brother's face. “Yes,” he says, as if the words were being ripped out of him.
“All of that is true!”

Teo comes closer. He is heaving with emotion and there aren't any words to express it, only the movement of his hands, pushing his brother away, as Alexos had once pushed him. Alexos sways to the side but regains his balance, so Teo shoves him again. This time he falls hard. His head strikes the ground with a loud
thunk
, like a gourd that has dropped and split.

The sound is horrible, but it only stokes the fire of Teo's rage. Screaming and sobbing, he kicks at his brother—two, three, four times, aiming most especially at his legs. And there's no telling what else he might have done had Claudio not grasped him from behind and pulled him away.

“Stop,” Claudio says, gripping his son with all his
strength. But the boy continues to struggle. “Stop! I mean it, Teo. You've done enough.”

“I hate you!” Teo shouts to his brother, who lies unmoving now. “Papa, let me go!
Let me go!
I can't be here anymore!”

“Will you go directly back to the temple?”

“Yes.” Teo is heaving great, wrenching sobs now, pulling hard to get away. “Please, Papa,
please
!”

Claudio turns his son away from the damage he has done, points him toward the path, and releases him. “Quickly, then,” he says. “I'll come as soon as I can.”

Aria watches Teo as he runs away, sobbing, watches her father watching him, then turns back to the king of Arcos and takes in the scene, the consequence of what has just been revealed. The physician is kneeling beside Alexos, examining his scalp for wounds. Leander has stepped back, as if recoiling from something loathsome, his handsome face contorted with horror and disgust. Peles just looks stunned.

And all this while Aria's rage has been building. What she felt before was nothing to this. Pyratos was just a worm. But
this
is evil beyond all imagining. Now she advances on the sad little scene, her eyes wild with anger.

“It was
you
?” she demands, standing over Alexos.
“
You
were the one we've been wondering about all these years, the one who sent Teo off alone in that little boat, knowing he would almost surely die?
His brother?
”

“Yes!” Alexos shouts.

“Then you are
vile
! Worse even than Pyratos! How can you bear to live with yourself?”

“I can't.”

“Good. I hope you die. And I hope it's painful and terrifying, because—”

Once again Claudio intercedes. “Daughter, don't. There's enough hurt here already. Go comfort your brother. I will follow.”

She looks defiantly up at him, then turns back to Alexos and spits at his face. It isn't well aimed and lands on his knee instead, but she sees how it wounds him and is glad. She jerks away from her father then and, without another word, dashes away.

She is running flat out, desperate to catch up with Teo. She can hear the pounding of her feet on the grass, the rhythmic rush of blood in her ears. She is weeping and sick with anger and disgust—all the more because she'd half convinced herself she loved that man. She'd admired him, pitied him, and had been so eager to set him free—when all the while, beneath that beautiful guise, there lurked a vile, ugly, foul, disgusting, monstrous beast!

She is so sick she stops to vomit. And it's as though more than bile comes out: something slick, dark, and bitter. For a moment her head is spinning and she's afraid she will fall, so she drops onto the path and sits until she's recovered herself.

Then she's up and running again—through the main camp, past a knot of astonished, silent men, then up the overgrown trail toward the temple. There are rocks here now, and creeping vines; she trips over them in her haste and falls. But always she rises and goes on, pushing herself to the very edge of her endurance, her legs aching from the rapid climb.

At last, completely out of breath, she stops, leans over, and heaves to pull air into her lungs. And from far below, she hears her father's voice as she's never heard it before. It rises like a whirlwind in the air: a cry of rage, horror, lamentation.

“By all the gods in heaven—
no! He did not have to die!
”

THE SOFT GRAY OF
dawn has given way to the cool light of early morning, but inside the temple it is dark, lit only by the small, flickering lamp at the feet of Athene. Teo is just a shape tucked in close to the wall. He looks strangely small and childlike curled up that way, his long legs drawn against his chest, his long arms wrapped around them, his head bent over to complete the circle.

Aria is sick with disappointment. Teo was supposed to wait for her. They'd talk, and comfort each other, and then decide together what to do next, how to recapture the perfect life they'd had before all those wretched people came and ruined everything.

Instead, he's turned his back on her and gone to sleep.

She crawls over and lies beside him, curled up too, her back against his. She feels the warmth of his body, feels the slight movement as he breathes. It almost helps, but it's not nearly enough. She wants him to wake and talk to her. She wants her father to come back and make everything all right. She wants things to be as they were. She wants, and wants, and wants. But Teo doesn't move, Claudio doesn't come, and she is left alone with her grief and her anger—and maybe also a touch of shame. After a while she crawls back to her own pallet and pulls the blanket over her head.

How long it is before Claudio returns, Aria doesn't know. She's asleep when he comes in. He brushes against her knee as he sits down, waking her. She peers out from behind the blanket.

He has lit the other lamp. Now he leans against the wall, drags in a deep breath, and lets it out in a rush. It's the sound of total exhaustion. He looks at Aria with sober eyes, his head tipped down, his expression unreadable.

“You smell of smoke,” she says.

“I know. Is Teo asleep?”

“It's hard to tell.”

He shoots her an odd look. “How long has he been like that?”

“The whole time.”

Claudio leans over and gives Teo's shoulder a gentle shake. “Son? I need you to sit up now and talk to me.”

Teo curls up tighter.

“Teo!” Claudio's manner strikes Aria as uncommonly lacking in tenderness. But then, she's had no experience with firmness. “That's enough. Sit up now.”

Teo also hears the edge in his father's voice. Slowly he unwraps himself and settles into a sitting position. He looks awful. He looks like an old person inhabiting the body of a child. In the lamplight his eyes are enormous and sad.

“I can only imagine how hard that was for you,” Claudio begins. “It was painful just to watch it. But there is more to this matter than you could possibly know. And now we must discuss it.”

“I already know,” he says, covering his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide with terror.

“I don't think you do.”

“I heard. Oh, Papa, I didn't mean to do it. I was just . . .”

“Teo, child—
stop
! What did you hear? What do you think you have done?”

“I killed him!”

“No.”

“Yes. I heard you say it, that he was dead.”

“Then you misunderstood. It had nothing to do with you at all.”

“Who was it then?” Aria asks. “Who died, if not Alexos?” She had reached the same conclusion.

“While we were in the prison camp, the men held a hasty trial and found Pyratos guilty. They killed him on the spot . . . all of them, together, a wound from every man. It was a dreadful thing to behold.” He shudders, lets out a ragged breath. “We burned his body this morning. That's the smoke you smelled.”

“But why were you so angry? I never heard you like that before. You were
screaming
!”

“He was a man, Aria, not much over thirty years of age. And now he is nothing but ashes, and bone, and blood on the grass. Don't you find that disturbing?”

“He tried to kill you.”

“Yes. And tonight he was exposed and publicly humiliated, ridiculed by his men, and his crown was taken from him. I thought that was sufficient. I'm not a tyrant. I didn't want his blood on my hands. So I forgave him. You and everyone else who was there saw me do it. My intention was perfectly clear. I hoped to make a new beginning.”

“Pyratos was a monster, Papa!”

“Yes. But think, daughter: he tries to kill me, then
his men kill him. Am I now to kill those men for killing him? Where will it end?”

Aria looks down and studies her fingernails.

“What about Alexos?” Teo asks.

“He is bruised and battered, but very much alive.”

Teo droops with relief. “I'm glad,” he says.

Claudio sits in silence for a long while, thinking. He seems very far away. “Do you remember the story of Arcoferra, how it fell from grace and was punished by the gods?”

Aria can't imagine why he's bringing that up now. The children always found it a particularly unpleasant story: Zeus tormenting generation after generation of innocent people for a crime committed so long ago that nobody even remembers what it was. They did like the part about Athene, though, and how she promised to send a champion to deliver them someday.

“Well, that story is true. You will recall that Zeus split the country into two warring states. Alexos is the king of Arcos. I am now the king of Ferra. Technically, that makes us enemies.”

Ah
, she thinks.
I see where he's going
.

“I would not relish going home to pursue a war against Teo's brother. But I don't think I shall have to; because I finally understand why Athene put us in danger after so many years of tender care, why
she brought Pyratos and Alexos here.
This
is the long-awaited moment. The goddess has fulfilled her promise and chosen her champion. Actually, it seems she has chosen three.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“I do. Alexos was the first.”

Teo sucks in breath.

“That shocks you, I know, considering what he did. But Athene is subtle in her ways. We must accept that she is wiser than any mortal and always has her reasons.”

“What about the other two?”

“I am getting to that. Aria, on the day you were born I took you to the great temple of Athene in Ferra and did your augury myself. It was a strange thing to do; the tradition has always been that the champion would be a prince—and not just any prince, but the heir to one of the two thrones. You were neither prince nor heir, and a girl besides. But I had such a strong compulsion to do it, I thought it must be the will of Athene. And I was right: you were revealed to be the chosen one.”

Aria cannot speak. She tries, but nothing comes out.

“I didn't know about Alexos then. I only heard this morning.”

“Heard how?”

“Suliman told me, the physician. And now I see the pattern. The goddess didn't bring us to this beautiful island only to save our lives. This sweet place, this paradise, is where she wanted her champion to grow and learn. But there's more.

“Then you came, Teo. And that night, after Aria had gone back to bed, I carried you here to the temple. I laid you, sleeping, on the floor—right there, at the feet of Athene—and performed your augury. I didn't have any proper amulets, so I used common stones. I did this, as with Aria before you, because I felt compelled to do it.

“Teo—you, too, grasped the amulet for greatness. You are both her champions, on which she rests her hopes for the future of the poor, suffering mortals over whom she has watched these many years.”

They look at each other, then turn as one to stare at their father.

“By choosing her champions, she has committed herself. It means that Zeus and the whole pantheon of gods have consented to hear our plea. Now you must play your parts.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“I don't know, but Athene does, and she will leave nothing to chance. Assume from now on that everything that happens is part of her plan. And on that
note, the court physician of Arcos is waiting outside to speak with Teo.”