In the middle of the opening, a rocky outcropping projected long shadows on the dense scrub. As I moved closer, I saw the dark figure of a man half-hidden behind one of the boulders. I ran to him as fast as my weary legs allowed, but the king didn’t move.
“Are you all right, Sire?”
Don Julián turned. “You’re dismissed, Princess.”
“But, Sire—”
“As you have just demonstrated, Princess Andrea, you are of no help to me. In fact, your arrogance and inexperience will only jeopardize my mission. We are in my kingdom now, and you must obey my orders.”
He had spoken with the authoritarian voice of our first encounters, reverting to the king I hated so much. Astounded at the virulence of his unexpected attack, I stared at him.
“Haven’t I made myself clear, Princess?” Don Julián continued, his voice a cold whisper. “I refuse to suffer your contemptuous behavior any longer. I order you to leave.”
At his words, from somewhere inside my fear, came the memory of the promise he had made when delirious in the castle, the promise to avenge his father. He had meant it. Don Julián had never intended to negotiate with Father. He had only used that claim as an excuse to get to his kingdom. And now that he had gotten his wish, he would turn on us. Blinded by rage and tears, I bit my tongue to stop my crying and ran away from him.
I ran across the heather, through the brushwood, and down the slippery slope into the water until I reached the boat and climbed inside. Only then, I saw the blood. Red rusty stains over the oar, on the seat, and on the floor, a dark cloud of insects gorging on it. For a moment I just stared, my mind refusing to understand. Then, as the now familiar scent hit my nostrils, a wave of nausea overcame me, and bending over the river, I was sick. And when there was nothing left in my stomach, I climbed to the shore again and started back toward the opening. Excuses were over. Neither my hate for the king nor his disdain for me would change the fact that if I left him now, I would be as responsible for his death as if I had killed him myself.
I found Don Julián sitting under the boulder where I had last seen him. I noticed he had taken his shirt off and was trying to cut the bandage with a knife. Both the knife and his hand were red with blood. Strain and frustration showing on his face, he was biting his lower lip so hard that it was bleeding.
I curtsied to him, still afraid of his anger, and pretending a confidence I did not feel, I asked, “May I help, Sire?” as if he had never insulted me, as if I had never left.
Don Julián dropped his knife, startled. He could not totally hide the pain in his eyes. Distressed by his silence and thinking that my losing control of the boat was the reason for his contempt for me, I started to apologize. But Don Julián did not let me finish. “It is I who has to apologize, Princess, for my clumsy attempt to make you leave. Although I did it so you would be safe, I hate myself for what I said.”
“Then, Sire, you didn’t mean it?”
“Of course not. But if you believed me, why did you come back?”
“The boat is covered in blood,” I jested. “I didn’t want to get dirty.”
Don Julián smiled. “In that case it’s better you don’t get near me until I’m finished.”
Ignoring his request, I knelt by his side and helped him undress his wound. When I realized that the blood was still coming, a wave of panic grew inside me.
“You shouldn’t have rowed, Sire,” I told him to cover my fears.
“You are probably right. But there are so many things I should not have done that one more does not make much of a difference.” Then, as I pulled off the last of the bandages and the blood poured out like a stream from his shoulder, he fell back against the rock, unconscious.
I laid his body on the grass, and taking a linen cloth from the bag open at his feet, I pressed it against his wound. When it turned red, I grabbed another one and then another. Only after the bleeding stopped did I dare to look at the king. His pulse was irregular, but at least his breathing was steady. After taking two red pills from the pouch hanging from his belt, I smashed them in a cup, added some water, and forced them into his mouth. I washed his wound, wrapping a bandage tightly around his shoulder.
I dressed him with his own shirt, the one he had been wearing at the bridge. Now that we were in his kingdom, he did not need to pretend he was one of us. Once I was finished, I covered him with a blanket, and my back to the boulder, I stood watch.
Dawn was breaking over the distant trees when I woke up. Don Julián, his eyes closed, was breathing slowly at my feet. Bending over him, I touched his forehead. It was burning. But when I checked his bandage, I saw with relief that it was only slightly stained. After forcing some water through his parched lips, I collected the dirty bandages and started for the river.
On my right, the sun crawled out of hiding. It was the last day before the meeting with Father. Don Julián was barely alive. In two days’ time he would still not be well enough to talk with Father. My plan had failed.
Unless . . . My mind started racing. I still had the letter with the conditions for peace signed by Don Julián. All I had to do was to find Don Alfonso and give the letter to him. Then Don Alfonso would show it to Father, and my worries would be over. I jumped to my feet. Don Julián would know where to find Don Alfonso. I would ask him and then . . . But there was a big flaw in my plan: Don Julián could never make it to Don Alfonso’s camp. He would bleed to death if I moved him now.
“I will have to go alone.”
Startled by my voice, a couple of ducks looked up, their unblinking eyes searching the shore for danger, and then they went back to preening their feathers.
“I will have to go alone,” I repeated. But the idea of leaving Don Julián sent a fear beyond reason into my heart. My back to the tree, I let myself slide to the ground. Above the steady sound of rushing water, I heard the cracking noise of a twig breaking, then the sound of wings taking flight. And as I turned, a familiar voice whispered in my ear. “Good morning, Princess. As always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
Almost touching mine, Don Alfonso’s face was looking down at me. Although his lips were drawn into a smile, the sharp point of his sword against my throat belied his words.
24
The New King
“Where are your soldiers this time, Princess Andrea? Are they waiting for your signal to cross the river?” Always the gentleman, Don Alfonso’s voice was firm and pleasant. But his eyes, cold with hate, were not asking. And by the pressure of his blade on my skin and the shadows of the men I could guess were behind him, I knew I was in no position to provoke him.
Don Alfonso moved back. “Why did you return? The truth, Princess, or your man will die.”
“No!”
They had found him then. They had found their king but had not recognized him. Just my luck. If I did not stop them, these stupid soldiers would kill their own king and blame me for it.
Lunging to my feet, I turned toward the clearing where I had left Don Julián. But before I could move further, a black wall of Suavian soldiers had closed in on me. Again Don Alfonso’s sword grazed my neck.
“Easy now or I’ll kill you both,” Don Alfonso said. I knew by his voice that he had moved to a place beyond reason, and he meant it.
Forcing the anger from my eyes, I stared at him. “You must listen first, Sir. Peace is still possible.”
Don Alfonso laughed. “Peace? How do you dare talk of peace with the blood of my brother still on your hands? You should have thought about it before, Princess. Before your men killed my brother.” His voice was cold now, tense like the string of a bow under an archer’s hand. And just as dangerous. “Don Julián was a great man, and he died because of you. His death will forever divide our kingdoms.”