Twenty at most.
“Why?”
The soldier swallowed.
“My brother.”
The Queen looked up.
“What about him?”
“The Regent has him.”
Of course.
The Prince felt anger burn.
Always leverage.
Always someone held somewhere.
The Queen lowered her sword.
“What is your brother’s name?”
The soldier hesitated.
She repeated gently.
“His name.”
He told her.
The Queen looked at the Captain.
“Find him.”
The Captain nodded.
The soldier’s crossbow lowered slightly.
The Queen stepped forward.
“If you shoot, you may kill your Prince.”
The soldier began crying.
The Prince said, “That is not helping.”
The Queen ignored him.
“If you lower the weapon, I give you my word we will search for your brother before judging you.”
The soldier stared.
“My Queen…”
“Choose.”
His hands shook.
Then the crossbow dropped.
The Prince released a breath.
The Captain sent two guards to restrain him gently.
As they passed, the soldier whispered, “The Regent is ahead.”
“How many?”
“Thirty.”
The Captain swore.
The Queen had twenty.
The Prince said, “Good odds.”
“No,” the Captain answered.
“You’re very negative.”
“I’m alive because of it.”
They continued.
Farther down, the corridor divided.
One path climbed.
One descended toward louder water.
The Keeper pointed downward.
“Sea gate.”
They took it.
The passage opened into a cavern.
Black waves crashed beneath iron platforms.
Across the chamber stood an enormous rusted gate built directly into the cliff.
At one side, a mechanism of gears and chains disappeared into stone.
At the other stood the Regent.
Thirty soldiers surrounded him.
And behind them—
a man in chains.
Old.
Thin.
White-bearded.
Standing only because two guards held him.
The Queen made a sound the Prince had never heard.
Not a word.
Something older.
The prisoner lifted his head.
One eye was scarred shut.
The other opened.
He saw her.
Time stopped.
The Regent smiled.
“My Queen.”
The Queen did not look at him.
She looked only at the prisoner.
Her husband.
The King.
Alive.
Barely.
The Prince forgot how to breathe.
He remembered portraits.
A broad-shouldered ruler in blue armor.
A father lifting him onto a horse.
A man laughing beneath summer sunlight.
The prisoner before him seemed impossibly small by comparison.
But when the King saw the Prince, something changed.
His spine straightened.
Not much.
Enough.