Chapter 7: Trap Pass

A Prince of the Nobillo

Chapter 7: Trap Pass

As she and Carak walked down the long halls of the palace, Carak suddenly drew near to her. "Stay close, no matter what you see."

Lindsay heard the soft fluttering of wings and odd high hums and chirps as they approached an area brightly lit by pale sunlight. A waif of a woman, dressed in not quite a white toga but something similar tied around her body in strange places by stringed belts, padded across the hall on bare feet. Her six wings seemed shorter than Lindsay was used to seeing.

Lindsay heard a chirrup and a woman popped her head out of an adjoining hallway. Her skin was pale grey, as if she'd powdered it in cement, and her black hair was braided in an ornate style. Threads and a large needle hung from the braids, tapping lightly against the side of her face. She tilted her head, her neck scarcely looked thick enough to hold it up over her jutting shoulder bones.

Her lips were pursed, with only a quarter-sized spot of sangria paint at the very center which gave her something of a quizzical expression. Her eyelids were accentuated with bright blue paint, the eyelashes stuck together in pointed sections with colorful stones stuck to the very ends so they looked cartoonish. The "w" of the pupil stood out black in the electric blue of the iris.

Lindsay felt nauseous. Blue wasn't an eye color the Nobillo possessed, especially not in that shade.

The woman chirruped and turned her head and Lindsay saw the thread holding her lips pursed together; it was fraying and stained with dark sangria colored blood. She dashed off to where the other woman had come from. Yes, the wings were definitely shorter and shaped like they had been cut out by a child who didn't particularly know what wings looked like.

Lindsay gripped Carak's arm, taking comfort in the thick muscles of his forearm. A few more steps and she could see the hall the women had come from. There were dozens of them!

The hall itself was decorated in fake flowers and trees and leaves and hanging macramé seats where the pale, wan women curled up and slept - that is, those who were not relegated to the floor. She could see one sitting on the tiles with her legs splayed out like a child, picking at her bejewelled fingertips, her head banging softly against the wall as she hummed snatches of tunes.

A flute played a few notes and a number of them ran over to a wall where a panel lifted half an inch and a syrupy liquid slowly seeped out. They pressed their lips to the wall and she heard a sucking sound. It was like some demented butterfly garden!

"Don't look at them," Carak said.

"What are they?" Lindsay asked in horror.

"The Birds of Paradise. Make no mistake, they may have lost their minds, but their claws are very real."

"What happened to them?"

"I'll tell you when we've passed."

Carak led her in silence for the next five minutes until she stopped short.

"What the hell were those women?" she demanded.

"Boz's Birds of Paradise. But if you so much as whisper his name or what happened near them, they'll tear you apart."

"Are those his wives?"

"Some of them, most were just women he saw from his tower and liked the look of."

"What did he do to them?" she asked. She didn't want to know the answer and yet she felt she had to hear it.

Carak sighed. "He violates them, mind and body, until they go insane. The ones that behave, as he would say, go to serve him in his tower. The ones that don't... this is their fate until they starve to death."

"That's psychotic! What happened to their wings?"

"By law, those judged insane have their wings clipped so they can't fly. Ostensibly, it is to keep them from hurting themselves and others. Boz insists on doing it himself. You saw the results."

"So, he just sees a pretty girl, has her brought up to him, and rapes and mutilates her and then throws her in a hallway until she starves to death? How is he not in jail?!"

"Because he's a prince."

"But their families!"

"Are paid handsomely for the privilege of having a daughter taken into the service of one of the princes."

"They let him do that? To their daughters?" She was incredulous.

"Of course not. They don't know."

Lindsay was stunned. "So, they think... they think their daughters are just living as servants to the prince?"

"It is better they not know, there's nothing they can do to stop him. It's better to let them believe the lie."

"This is so messed up! How do you live here knowing that even exists?"

"I don't have a choice. You do." Carak said.

She was stunned by the bluntness of his words. "Are you saying I should go?"

"I'm saying you should consider it carefully."

She walked silently beside him, still not letting go of his arm. "When you say you don't have a choice... Carak, are you a slave?"

"I am a Child of the Immortal. It is my purpose to serve the Nobillo from my birth until my dying day. That was why we were created by the Immortal."

She gripped his arm tighter with both hands, each only able to span halfway around the muscles that divided it. She felt sick. So ill, in fact, she didn't even notice the way the large, opaque eyes of the Children of the Immortal guards followed them as they walked.

"Ah, I see you've arrived," Elihim said, answering the door. "You may dismiss your escort."

"I'm sorry," Lindsay said. "But the king ordered him to stay with me at all times. It would be a violation of his orders to dismiss him."

Elihim's brow creased slightly, Lindsay could see the tension grow in his jaw. "Then have him wait outside."

"I'd rather he be with me. I'd hate to disobey the king. I'm still so new here." She put on her best innocent expression.

"The king doesn't need to know; it can just be between us," he said smoothly, the serpent's tongue fighting a losing battle with the lion's rage.

"I don't think that would be wise. I'd hate to risk getting caught."

"Carak, wait outside." Elihim ordered.

Carak bowed. "I'm sorry, your grace, but my orders from my king and my prince were clear: whenever she leaves the tower, I am to accompany her."

"If he can't come in, then, I'm afraid, we'll need to cancel our plans," Lindsay added with a small fake pout.

Elihim's face bloomed in a shade of deep purple as he stared daggers at the pair. He was clearly not used to being denied his own way. "Fine. He may enter, but he has to stay at the door."

"Carak?" Lindsay asked.

"I believe that would be acceptable," Carak replied.

"Aladrin, put Orlea to bed," Elihim ordered.

Lindsay watched through the crack as a plump Nobillo woman picked up a small, winged girl and swept out of the room.

He called back to the child, "I'm sorry, flower, you won't be able to meet Princess Lindsay today." He turned back to Lindsay and whispered, "She finds the Children terrifying."

Carak frowned.

Lindsay's heart sank, she hadn't meant to deny the little girl who he'd said idolized her. "I'm sorry," she said.

Elihim turned and led the way into the dining area. "Perhaps next time, when you are more comfortable with us."

"Of course!"

She felt Carak's grip on her wrist. "He's lying," he whispered as he passed in front of her.

The blood froze in Lindsay's veins. He hadn't sent the girl away because she was scared, it was a Hail Mary attempt to get her to change her mind about Carak, one that had thankfully failed. But why didn't he want Carak around? She shuddered. Given the Birds of Paradise, she really didn't want to think about what this prince was capable of.

They sat on opposite stools at the end of what seemed not all that different from a dining room table. Elihim folded his fingers into something of a hammock. "So, how are you enjoying our hospitality?"

"It's been... a bit overwhelming," she answered as honestly as she could.

"I'm sure, especially after living in the forest for so many iuna, you must appreciate having a warm bed."

She fought the urge to tell him she already had a warm bed. "It's very nice."

The food was placed on the table by a young Nobillo man. Some sort of small chicken-like bird surrounded by brightly colored fruits for the prince and, on her plate, a tiktik surrounded by flaxa fruit slices. She immediately caught the insult.

"I recall you saying you were quite fond of this particular dish in one of your interviews," Elihim said with a smile. "I'll admit it was a challenge for my men to track one down for you. They had to go all the way to the barrack latrines. I hope they prepared it to your liking."

She plunged her eating utensils into it and pulled off a leg, delicately nibbling the meat off and enjoying Elihim's attempt to disguise his disgust. "Oh yes, it's quite good. You should really try some." She pushed her plate toward him.

"No. Thank you." He held a cloth to his mouth, looking like he was going to be sick. Sirix would have laughed so hard at him.

"I must admit," Elihim continued, trying not to look at the creature on Lindsay's plate, "when I heard they were refurbishing the tower for a new princess, I naturally assumed it would be a Nobillo woman who would be taking up residence, especially given the refilling of the powder and oil stations."

And now she understood why Rivuk had set those up. He needed to misdirect his spying family. If he hadn't stocked those stations, it would have raised too many questions.

"I guess he wanted to surprise you," she said, savoring a piece of flaxa.

"And surprise us all he did! It certainly was an... adjustment, coming to terms with our unusual new sister. But I want you to know we hold none of your past against you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"Of course not. You could hardly have been expected to behave any differently under the circumstances. We didn't realize the wrong we were doing in killing the humans. We'd been given to believe they were... defective, and we were doing them a favor. We have since put a stop to it."

Defective. It sounded like something Councilwoman Mona would have said about her back at the Hollow. "What about those last ones, with the baby?"

"That was Rivuk's plan, not ours. But we don't fault him. It was important to get you away from the Bonat and back to proper civilization." His hand turned in languid circles as he spoke.

"Uh huh." she said.

"I can tell you don't believe me."

"Not even a little."

Elihim chuckled. "I don't mind. It only makes sense you wouldn't. Afterall, I did suggest having you executed at the Temple of the Immortal. I'll admit, it feels a bit extreme in retrospect. I surely would have regretted it, knowing what I know now."

"And what do you know now?" she asked, coolly.

"Why, how popular you are! You've breathed new life into our institutions. Everyone is suddenly interested in Princess Lindsay and Prince Rivuk."

"And not in you."

"Praise the Immortal! Do you have any idea how hard it is to run a country with the eyes of all the people watching you at every moment for a mistake or scandal? It's been a welcome break to have you and my brother in the spotlight. I mean that with all sincerity. I know this has been hard for you, and I've certainly not made it easier, but I hope you'll come to see me as a friend you can rely on, in time."

Not bloody likely, Lindsay thought to herself. "I hope so, too," she said, earnestly.

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, did you have any questions? Perhaps about the palace?"

"I was wondering, what do you princes do? I know Rivuk controls the military, but what about you and your brother." She didn't want to say the sicko's name.

"Prince Boz? He's in charge of agriculture, our reservoirs, and our electrical grid. He's quite brilliant, really. He revolutionized our irrigation system so it now produces power at every point in the process. As for myself, I concern myself with running the kingdom, which is a much harder task than you would think. There's always some crisis just waiting in the wings, as it were. Take yesterday, for example..."

The conversation flowed freely for hours and, despite her initial fear, she found Elihim quite easy to talk to. He was charming, erudite, and possessed a particular turn of phrase that made her feel a bit like she'd stepped into a British period drama. And he was completely unlike the taciturn Rivuk. If she were being honest with herself, it was the most normal she'd felt since she'd arrived.

"Oh, look at the time," Elihim said. "I have an early morning tomorrow."

"Doing what?" she asked, leaning forward, actually curious.

"How did you say? Shaking hands and kissing babies?"

She laughed. "Yeah. That's how my dad used to put it when he was a State Senator."

"Why don't you let me walk you back to your apartment? I'd offer to fly you, but I don't think I could carry your attendant and I'd hate to leave you without."

"Sure," she agreed.

They walked back by a different way, through the First Prince's Courtyard, still deep in conversation, flanked by Carak and Elihim's personal guard. As they got to the tower door, Carak unlocked it with the band around his wrist.

Elihim bowed low. "I hope you enjoyed your time with me."

"It was fun," Lindsay replied honestly, slipping through the door.

Elihim held the door open. "Perhaps we might do it again sometime?"

"I'd like that."

"And I hope you will start thinking of me as a friend. This palace can be very lonely if you don't have a few people you can trust."

"Sure," she said with a smile as she shut the door.

Something about the way he said that didn't sit right with her. She should have asked more questions about Boz or the war and everything. But once she'd mentioned her father's job it was all kvetching about growing up in the public eye.

Thank God her dad decided two terms were more than enough for him! Bobby Weaver with the Cape Cod accent that made him sound like a Kennedy and the policy platform to make a Massachusetts Liberal blush, who left a promising political career to spend more time with his four kids. Sometimes she missed the parties, but she didn't miss the life.

She couldn't imagine being the child of a king, expected to rule. In some ways it would be easier: no elections, no door-knocking, no crazy constituents accusing you of being in league with George Soros because they caught you eating chocolate ice cream with your kids after a softball game because for some reason that was a secret sign. But, in other ways, being royal sounded much, much harder. Crushing expectations, no choices of your own, eyes on you from the moment you were born... It sounded like a different kind of nightmare to Lindsay.

Carak looked pensive as Lindsay strolled about the room, stretching.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A few things. Likely nothing."

"And if it was something?"

"I would warn you to be careful of him."

"Because he's lying and trying to get me alone?"

Carak nodded.

"I know, I'm just not sure why." Lindsay threw up her hands. "God! I wish someone would give me straight answers in this place!"

"I wish I could be that person," Carak said.

Lindsay could sense a genuine sorrow in his words. "But you have your own secrets to keep. It's ok. You're not exactly free to do whatever you want. Just promise me, even if you can't tell me the truth, you won't ever lie to me."

"That I can do."

Lindsay slept fitfully that night. Her dreams were all of the strange, alarming sort that demanded the dreamer wake up but then scattered upon waking. She finally accepted sleep would not be her friend as the ascending sun of the cool morning brightened her room. But that didn't mean she had to open her eyes, not yet.

She felt Donil slide in beside her. Another late night working, as always. She was too dedicated to the hospital for her own good. She felt a finger tracing little circles on her shoulder. She batted it away. "Donil, that tickles."

"Oh yes. The wife," a smooth male voice said.

Her eyes flew open to see the handsome face, tawny hair, and bright green eyes of the second prince.

She shrieked, backing away from him as fast as she could. She rolled over the edge of the bed and managed to stand in time for Boz to push her up against the column.

"Hello," he said. "I've been waiting all night for you to wake up."

"Carak!" she screamed. She heard a loud banging on Carak's door like someone trying to break it down from the inside.

"These old doors, so easy to block," Boz said. "He'll get through, but not quick enough to save you."

Lindsay's eyes darted to her staff, but Boz had her pinned.

"Uh uh uh," he waggled a finger in front of her face. "Don't even think about it, you pretend warrior princess. I've been in your mind; I saw you wash out of the military. Couldn't even stick the interview. You wanted to be just like your big brother. But you couldn't hack it. You've cheated on every test you ever took. That's the only reason you got into college and you know it. The only thing you were ever any good at was lying down like a good girl and taking it from so very many men. I think I saw what? Fifty? A hundred? You didn't even know all their names! And, even then, you won't give my poor, besotted brother a taste. You're just a stupid, worthless whore and everyone knows it. Now, why don't you behave yourself and let me have my turn?"

She knew those words, her deepest insecurities, he knew them all. The things she'd said to Charlie after she failed the army interview. And, like the little sociopath he was, he was using them against her.

She gritted her teeth. There was no way she was going to let him win. Not this weasely little psycho prince. "When you were messing around in my mind, did you happen to see why I failed my interview?"

"Couldn't use your powers to spell your name right?" he taunted.

"No, it was because when the scumbag recruiter tried to get a free ride, I just remembered to SING."

"Oh, are you going to give us a little song-"

She shoved her elbow hard into Boz's gut. "Solar Plexus! Instep!" She stomped his instep with the full weight of her heel. Her palm flew up, striking Boz directly in the nose causing blood to gush from it. "Nose!" His hands were at his nose, leaving that final part uncovered. "Groin!" But she didn't strike him in the groin. She remembered her dream dance with Rivuk too well to forget the Nobillo kept their genitals in a slightly different place. Her fist slammed into that soft, sensitive area just below where his navel might be were he human.

He doubled over, grunting in pain, dark blood flowing freely. She grabbed her staff and took a defensive position.

"Oh, you'll pay for that," Boz said, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Are you gonna make me?"

A smile twisted up the corners of his mouth. "Oh, just try and stop me. I do like a girl with a little fight in her. Pity I'm going to ruin those pretty little spots of yours."

He raised his hands; she saw the wicked brown claws just moments before he slashed at her. She blocked with her staff and saw five deep grooves where his fingers had just passed. This was bad, her staff wouldn't take many more hits - it wasn't made for combat with sharp objects.

He came at her again. She ducked under and jabbed the staff into his gut. She felt the skin on her arm open up, loose and wet. Of course it had to be her bad arm. She let one end of the staff go, allowing it to spin around his body and strike him in the back. She felt pain in her back as his claws raked her.

"Ahhh!" she screamed.

She brought the staff end up hard into his chin. She felt the wood break as he flew backward, one half of the staff flying off and clattering on the stone floor on the other side of the bed.

She stood at the ready with her piece of broken staff, red and sangria blood mingled on her body, dripping to the floor. He stared at her, still grinning, a giant purple bruise already bright on his chin, blood flowing from the cut that matched the edge of her staff.