Prince of Traitors

Jasper

A day after the ball, I am in the garden where I shared a drink with the Navaarim girl. I lay on my back on a stone bench under the dappled shade of a tree. I hold a book above me, skimming the pages. My fine tunic is bunched up under my head as a pillow, leaving me in just my undershirt and trousers.

My sleeves are rolled up, the summer heat warming my skin as I tuck an arm under my head. I hear someone clear his throat, and lower my book to find Father ducking under the branches of the tree.

"Father," I say. "Any news about the Astrian spies?"

"Nothing new," he replies. "I sent a messenger on horseback a week ago to bring new information to the border camps. What are you doing out here? I thought you'd be entertaining the princesses."

"Naseem wanted to speak to them," I reply.

I sit up, and my father comes to sit beside me on the bench. "Just as well," he says. "I wanted to give you this anyway."

He pulls a small velvet box from his pocket and hands it to me. Inside is a glittering ring. The diamond set in its gold band is gigantic, surrounded with sapphires.

"For one of the princesses?" I ask. Father nods.

"For Zinat, I was hoping," he says. "She comes from a very noble military lineage. Making her your queen will solidify our alliance with Taja. They'll be an invaluable asset in our fight against Astria."

I bite my lip. Suddenly my future as king seems certain, and all too close. "I will give it to her, then," I say, hearing my voice as if from a distance.

My father claps me on the back as he stands from the bench.

"Put on a new tunic before you do, Jas," he says. "That one is wrinkled; it's not fit for a prince."

*

Later, Zinat loops her hand over my arm as we stroll through the halls of the palace. The sun has begun to set, casting the marble in an orange glow. My other hand is clasped hard around the velvet box my father gave me; it feels too heavy in my pocket. My heart pounds in my chest.

I clear my throat. "I hope you are enjoying our city," I begin. I give the princess a stiff smile. She no longer wears the traditional flowing fabric of Taja, but instead wears a corset and gown of Odrendi fashion. Her dark hair is braided back and wrapped in a coil behind her head.

"I am, my prince," Zinat says. "I had never seen the sea before my trip here—Onera is far inland—and I find I like it."

"That's good," I say. "And please, call me Jasper. I'd much prefer it if you used my given name."

"Oh, of course," she says. "I'd be glad to, Jasper." She smiles at me.

"You look lovely in our fashion," I say. "It suits you."

Zinat giggles a little. "Thank you very much."

"My pleasure."

"Please, call me by my given name as well, Jasper," she says.

"Right. Uh, Zinat," I stammer, pulling her to a stop. "I do hope this isn't too sudden for you, but..." I take the box from my pocket and open it. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Zinat smiles warmly. "Yes, of course," she says. She seems unsurprised by my proposal, but I imagine Naseem has prepared her for this, just as my father prepared me. She holds her left hand out, and I slip the gigantic diamond onto her finger.

*

Zinat walks beside me along the cobblestone streets, her gown swishing around her legs. She hooks her hand in the crook of my elbow, her ring glinting in the sunlight.

Guards trail us as we stroll around the city. I take my time showing Zinat around Highcaster, taking her past the royal docks and the temples dotting the city.

The market square is bustling with movement, the shopkeepers shouting their wares. People mill along under colored banners, bartering with the shopkeepers in their tents and stores.

"Your Highness!" I hear someone call. I turn to see Maggie as she waves from the front door of her shop.

"Come," I tell Zinat as we cross to where the older woman stands in the doorway of the shop. "Maggie makes wonderful pastries."

Maggie stammers and shakes her head. "Oh, you flatter me, my dear." She reaches out and gives me a pat on the arm. Her gray-streaked hair is piled atop her head, her face finely wrinkled. She smiles at Zinat. "Let me get you two some pastries."

"No, Maggie, we couldn't impose on you," I say.

"I insist!" Maggie says. "Your favorite is... apple?" She turns to enter her shop.

I chuckle as Zinat and I follow Maggie inside. "You still remember?"

Maggie waves a hand at me. "Of course I do, my dear. I may be old, but I will always remember you." She steps behind the heavy wooden table and begins gathering apple pastries from a basket. The shop smells sweet inside. It's warm from the brick oven in the back where pastries slowly cook.

"You have been here long?" Zinat asks the old woman.

Maggie nods. "The princes used to come to my shop for pastries all the time when they were young," she says. She smiles warmly at me. "I always gave them some to take back to the palace with them."

"Maggie makes the best apple tarts in Odrend," I say with a grin.

The old woman laughs and sets a bashful hand to her chest. "Oh, my dear, you're too kind." She packs the apple pastries into a small wicker box.

"Let me pay you for these this time," I tell Maggie.

She shakes her head and gives me an admonishing look. "Absolutely not!" When I insist, she only demands again that I take the pastries without paying her.

I leave her a few crowns anyway, pressing the gold coins into her hands. She pats my hand, her skin soft against mine. She pushes the box of pastries across the table toward me.

"You come by again soon, dear, you hear me?" she says.

"Of course, Maggie," I say. "Thank you for these."

We bid Maggie farewell and leave the shop. I blink the sunshine out of my eyes as we walk back out into the market square.

"She is sweet," Zinat says, strolling beside me with her arm still looped in mine. "You seem well-loved by your subjects."

I feel heat creeping along my cheeks, and I chuckle a bit. "I like to think so," I say.

Zinat leans up as we walk and brushes her lips against my cheek. "I think I will like it here, Jasper," she says, smiling up at me.