The Prince

The palace of Varnholt was nothing like the hills. Azubah had never seen so much stone. So many torches. So many eyes staring at her.

The carriage stopped and the Queen pulled her out quickly. Her hand was tight around Azubah's wrist.

"Don't look at anyone," the Queen whispered. "Keep your head down."

They entered through a small side door, not the big gate. Inside, it was cold. The walls were tall and dark.

An old woman was waiting for them. She was the old midwife from that night seven years ago.

When she saw Azubah, she covered her mouth.

"Gods," she whispered. "She looks just like him."

The Queen nodded. "Bring the scissors."

Azubah stepped back. "What? No! What are you doing?"

The Queen knelt in front of her. She held Azubah's face gently this time.

"Azubah dear," she said softly. "Listen to me. Your brother, Amias... my son... he died three nights ago. Fever took him."

Azubah stared at her. "I don't have a brother."

"You do. You did," the Queen said, tears in her eyes. "And now the kingdom will fall apart if they know the heir is dead. Your father, the King, he is sick too. If they know there is no heir, the other lords will come with swords to take Varnholt. They will kill me. They will kill everyone."

"I don't understand," Azubah said, her voice shaking.

"You are his twin," the Queen whispered. "You have his face. His nose. His eyes. If we cut your hair, if we dress you like him, no one will know."

Azubah pulled away. "No! I don't want to be a boy! I want to go back to my mummy!"

The Queen's voice became hard.

"Mira is dying, Azubah," she said. "You know it. I saw her. If you do this, I will send my best healers to her. I will give her medicine, food, a warm house. She will live. But you have to help me first."

Azubah stopped crying. "You will help my mummy?"

"I swear on my life," the Queen said. "But you have to become Amias. From today, Azubah is dead. You are Prince Amias of Varnholt. Beloved. The heir."

The old midwife came forward with big silver scissors.

Azubah looked at her long, tangled hair. Mira used to braid it every night.

"Will it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"No, my dearest prince," the old midwife said gently. "Just close your eyes."

Azubah closed her eyes.

Snip.

One braid fell to the cold stone floor.

Snip. Snip.

More hair fell.

When she opened her eyes, the girl in the mirror was gone.

Now, she saw her reflection, a boy with short, rough hair and big scared eyes stared back at her.

The Queen smiled, but she was crying.

"Welcome home, Amias," she whispered.

A maid came in quickly with clothes. Not a dress. A black tunic, trousers, and small boots. Boy's clothes.

"Put these on," the Queen said. "Quickly."

Azubah's hands were shaking as she wore them. The trousers felt strange. The boots were heavy.

"You look just like him," the old midwife whispered.

The Queen held her hand again. "Now, listen to me carefully, Azubah. From this door onwards, you are not Azubah. You are Amias. If you forget, we both die. Do you understand?"

Azubah nodded slowly, tears still on her face. "I... I am Amias."

"Good," the Queen said. "Zeta will teach you everything you need to know and you must learn them quickly but now you must meet your father, keep your voice firm and never stutter. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes..."

They walked through a long, dark hallway. Guards were everywhere. They all bowed when they saw her.

"Prince Amias," they said.

Azubah almost ran away, she was new to this and it made her feel so nervous and small.

They entered a big room. It smelled of medicine. A man was lying on a huge bed. He was thin and pale. This was the King of Varnholt.

His eyes opened when they entered.

"Amias?" he said, his voice weak. "Is that you, my son? They said you were sick."

Azubah froze. She didn't know what to say. The Queen squeezed her hand hard.

"Yes, father," Azubah said quietly, her voice shaking.

The King smiled weakly. "Come closer. I can't see you from there."

Azubah walked to the bed. The King touched her short hair.

"You cut your hair," he said.

"Yes," Azubah whispered.

"You look... different," the King said, staring at her face. "But still my beloved boy. My Amias."

Azubah felt her heart beating very fast.

"Father needs you to be strong now," the King coughed. "I called General Caelum. He will train you. He will make you a man. A king."

As soon as he said that name, the big doors opened.

A tall man walked in. He was maybe twenty years old, but he looked older. Broad shoulders, black armor, cold eyes. His face had no smile. Everyone in the room bowed their head, even the Queen.

"General Caelum," the Queen said.

Caelum didn't look at the Queen. He looked straight at Azubah. His eyes were grey like a storm.

"So this is the little prince," he said. His voice was deep and cold. "The one who has been hiding in his room for three days crying with fever."

Azubah swallowed. She wanted to hide behind the Queen.

Caelum walked closer. He was very tall. He looked down at her.

"You look smaller," he said.

"I... I was sick," Azubah said in a small voice.

Caelum tilted his head. He stared at her eyes, her lips, her neck.

"You sound smaller too," he said quietly, so only she could hear.

Azubah's blood went cold.

The Queen quickly stepped in front of her.

"That is enough, General," the Queen said sharply. "He is still recovering. You will start his training tomorrow at dawn. Make him strong again."

Caelum finally looked away from Azubah. He bowed slightly to the King.

"As you wish, My King," he said. "Tomorrow at dawn, Prince Amias will learn what it means to be a man. I will not be gentle."

He turned and walked out. His boots made a loud sound on the stone.

The King closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Azubah was left standing there, in boy's clothes, with short hair, her heart beating like a drum.

She was no longer Azubah, the girl from the hills.

She was Amias, the beloved prince, worse, it felt lonely without her mother. She doesn't know who these people are. What they wanted from her? Who Amias is? And why she is being forced to be the prince.

Are these the monsters mother spoke of? She quietly asked herself.

When led to her room, a large chamber designed with dark stone and red velvet curtains with large frame that held the painted image of whom she believed was Amias before his passing.

They were right, he does look like her.

She stood still the moment the door opened again and a large tray of buffet was brought into her room or as she was yet to settle she preferred calling it the real Prince Amias room.

"The Queen ordered that you have your food, Prince Amias," a maiden named Lira says to her.

Azubah tightened her fist, swallowed hard at the food being placed in front of her.

"I'm not hungry," she says quietly staring up at the maiden.

The maiden pushed the tray closer to her. The smell was rich, meat and bread.

"You must eat, My Prince," Lira said, her smile too tight. "You have been sick. You need strength."

Azubah shook her head. "I said I'm not hungry. Take it away."

"You have to eat," Lira insisted, picking up a spoon. "Just a little. Open your mouth."

Just then, the door banged open so hard it hit the wall.

The Queen stormed in. Her face was red with anger.

"Who gave you the order to feed my son?" she shouted.

The maiden's hands started shaking. The spoon fell.

"M-my Queen, I... I..."

"Who sent you?" The Queen's voice was like ice. "I gave no order for food. Who sent you to my son's room?"

Lira fell to her knees. "Please, My Queen, forgive me! I was only told to bring the food! I was only doing my job!"

The Queen looked at the food, then at the girl. "Eat it then," she said coldly. "Eat the food you brought for my son."

"No! Please!" Lira cried, crawling back. "Please, I'm sorry! She made me do it! She said it would only make him sleep!"

"Who?" The Queen screamed and two guards entered.

Lira was shaking so much she couldn't speak. She looked at the food, then at the Queen, then she quickly brought her hand to her mouth. She bit down hard on something hidden under her tongue.

It was poison.

In a second, white foam started coming from her mouth. Her eyes rolled back. She grabbed her throat and fell to the floor, twisting. Then she stopped moving. Dead.

Azubah screamed.

The Queen didn't even flinch. She looked at the guards.

"Take this body away," she said calmly. "Burn it. Find out who sent her."

The guards carried the dead maiden out.

The room was silent again.

The Queen locked the door and crouched next to Azubah. She held Azubah's shaking shoulders.

"Listen to me, Amias," she said, her voice stern now, no more soft. "This is why I told you. This palace is ruthless. Everyone wants the throne. Everyone wants us dead. That food was poisoned. If you had eaten it, you would be dead like her."

Azubah was crying hard.

"From today, you never eat anything given by anybody," the Queen said, holding her face tight. "Only food that comes from me or from Zeta, your personal maid. No one else. Do you promise me?"

Azubah nodded, unable to speak.

"Say it," the Queen said.

"I promise," Azubah whispered.

"Good," the Queen said. She wiped Azubah's tears. "If you are going to be King, my dearest, sacrifices will be made. You have to be strong. You have to be heartless. This world will not pity you because you are a little girl from the hills. Do you understand?"

Azubah looked at the dead maiden's shadow still on the floor where she fell.

"Yes, Mother," she whispered for the first time.

The Queen hugged her tight.