Chapter Text
When he was still a boy, Proteus’ future arrived on a ship. Years later, he watched her leave on another ship.
Proteus’ smile was genuine, though, watching Marina climbing among the rigging of the Chimera. It was a smile that grew when he spotted her dropping a coil of rope onto Sinbad on the deck below. It didn’t take long for Sinbad to join her among the rigging.
Marina never would’ve been happy in Syracuse, not forever. She had an adventuresome spirit she’d tried to contain over the years, but Proteus hadn’t missed how her yearning gaze would stray to the ocean. How often she’d wondered aloud what laid beyond the breaking waves. No, Syracuse wasn’t the place for Marina.
And, though it pained him in his heart, Proteus knew he wasn’t the man for Marina. They’d grown close over the years, and were good friends. Proteus still loved Marina, but knew Marina hadn’t shared the same feeling.
In many ways, they were the same. Both loved Syracuse and the people there. Both loved to occasionally duck from their royal duties and wander the streets of the city in common garb, though Proteus found Marina’s efforts to be more subtle than his, as she was rarely caught. Both were accomplished swordspeople. Proteus often found Marina to be his challenger, even if Captain Abner didn’t appreciate women in the training fields.
But while they were so similar, there were too many differences. Proteus was content to stay in Syracuse, to take on the mantle of kingship when his father stepped down. Marina was stubborn and loyal enough to the people to do her duty as both princess and queen, but she had a restless spirit. Proteus had sometimes wondered if she could ever be truly happy while trapped in Syracuse.
Yes, Proteus loved Marina. But he loved her enough to let her go, especially to Sinbad. Under his brash and reckless exterior, Sinbad was a good man. He’d take care of Marina, give her the life she truly wanted.
Proteus sighed as he pushed away from the railing. He’d accepted his decision, now he just had to figure out how he was going to tell everyone else that his and Marina’s engagement had been broken.
To Proteus’ surprise and relief, King Dymas was actually very understanding about the broken engagement.
King Dymas had seen and felt the same concerns over Marina’s contentment in Syracuse. He knew she’d be happier in her new life, though he expressed some exasperation over the man of her choice.
At the same time, Sinbad had returned the Book of Peace and saved Proteus’ life. That had earned him some grace in the king’s eyes.
Besides that, there were enough people protesting over the broken engagement. Namely, the kingdom of Thrace.
Proteus and Marina’s marriage had been intended to seal a pact of peace between the two kingdoms. Sicily was a richer kingdom, and the tie between the kingdoms would have given Thrace access to some of Sicily’s resources while providing Syracuse with the protection of the larger army of Thrace.
Proteus didn’t worry that much about losing Thrace’s army, as the kingdoms had been at peace for several generations. But Thrace was very unhappy about missing out on Syracuse’s forests and ports. Proteus and King Dymas had their hands full trying to find a way to placate the ambassadors from Thrace, who’d been present for Sinbad returning the Book of Peace and Marina’s subsequent departure. Talking of peace was useless, and the discussions were so heated that even Proteus’ offer to marry another of their delegates was refused.
The kingdoms stood on the brink of war when the Thracian ambassadors abruptly withdrew their complaints. Proteus had less than a day to wonder what they were up to before getting word that the Chimera was arriving to port.
Proteus was on the pier when the Chimera moored, smiling at Sinbad’s surprised face when he looked over the railing.
“I can’t even sneak into port anymore,” Sinbad joked while Kale dropped the gangplank into place.
“You’re a well-known hero now,” Proteus said, crossing the gangplank to embrace his old friend. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to wait another ten years to see you again, yet here you are after just four months!”
“We would have been here last month,” Marina said, joining them. “But Sinbad insisted on finding the perfect beach.”
While Proteus and Marina hugged, Sinbad protested, “You only get married once! I suppose you would’ve been happy saying our vows on the island full of cyclops?”
“That’s why you have to be careful with the wedding list, Sinbad,” Marina said in mock chastisement.
Proteus smiled, both at their bickering and the announcement. “So, you mean to say…”
Smiling brightly, Marina held up a hand to show off the gold band inset with tiny diamonds. Sinbad proudly showed an identical band on his finger.
“Then let me be the first to congratulate you!” Proteus said, happily embracing his friends again. “Come back to the palace. Father will be so excited to hear the news!”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see Marina,” Sinbad hedged.
“Sinbad, you saved my life. Twice,” Proteus said. “Believe me, Father’s warmed up to you. Now, come to the castle, you and your crew, Sinbad. The castle’s kitchens have been working for the last week for the spring festival, so there’s plenty of food for all of you. And there’s bound to be more congratulations, seeing as how the ambassadors from the other kingdoms are here as well.”
Marina’s cheerful demeanor slipped a little. “How has Thrace taken the broken engagement?”
As much as Proteus wanted to lie, he knew Marina would hate being lied to. He said honestly, “They haven’t been happy. They’ve dug their heels so deep about you leaving that they have only recently started to listen to the alternatives that Father and I have suggested.”
Sinbad raised an eyebrow. “Taking it a bit rough, aren’t they?”
Marina elbowed him. “They stood to gain a lot once my marriage to Proteus granted them access to the forests in the north, you know. Still, I’m with Sinbad. Maybe our presence here would do more harm than good.”
“I don’t think so,” Proteus assured her. “Let them see how happy you are. They’ve given their protests, and it’s time for them to consider alternatives.”
“Wedding bells for you, then?” Sinbad asked, wincing.
“They don’t seem to be keen on another marriage,” Proteus said. He smiled. “Maybe they think I’ll find a way to break another engagement off.”
That evening, Proteus watched with a smile as Marina dragged Sinbad around the crowd, mingling easily with the ambassadors and other visitors. Sinbad looked awkward, though it might have had to do with the formal outfit Marina had forced him to wear. Proteus wondered if Marina’s explanation that Sinbad needed to make a good impression on the Thracians was just an excuse to force him into dressing up. Proteus was impressed that she had pulled it off, and he had to hide a smile when Sinbad tugged on his shirt collar yet again.
The Thracians had been surprisingly gracious by the appearance of Sinbad and Marina. Proteus thought some of them even looked genuinely happy for Marina. Most likely, they were old friends of Marina’s.
Finally, Sinbad managed to duck away from Marina, going to brood in the corner. Proteus grabbed a couple goblets of wine before joining Sinbad, holding one goblet out to him.
“Aren’t you enjoying the party?” Proteus teased.
“Loads,” Sinbad said drily, loosening his silk scarf. “How do you and Marina do this?”
“It’s expected of us,” Proteus said, shrugging. Mingling with ambassadors and other royalty was second nature to him. “Sinbad, about Thrace…”
“You were playing it down for Marina,” Sinbad guessed.
“As if I could hide anything from Marina,” Proteus said, lightly shaking his head. “Besides, by now, she probably knows more about the happenings in Thrace than I do.”
Sinbad followed his gaze to where Marina was talking with a familiar Thracian ambassador named Talone. Proteus remembered how fondly Marina had talked about him in the past. The gray-haired ambassador was smiling broadly while he and Marina talked.
“I noticed more guards than normal,” Sinbad commented in an undertone.
“I don’t expect them to cause trouble tonight, but there’s no harm in making it clear we’re ready if they do,” Proteus said. “Captain Abner’s keeping a close watch on Marina for me.”
“Let them try to get past me,” Sinbad said, his voice like steel. “You know, one of the Thracians gave Marina and I two kegs of wine as congratulations. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t dump it in the bay before we leave.”
“Hm, that would be a waste of good Thracian wine,” Proteus said. “It might be the safe choice, though subterfuge is hardly the way of the Thracians. They’ll be more likely to try a show of force.”
Sinbad looked steadily at Proteus. “Proteus, tell me, how bad is it?”
“Take Marina and your crew away from here before the night is over,” Proteus said, his voice heavy. “I’m afraid war is coming, Sinbad.”
“What? I thought you were getting them to come around,” Sinbad said.
Proteus kept a smile on his face, knowing he was being watched by many of the party attendees, whether or not they were being obvious about it. Sinbad maintained a smile as well, used to keeping a cheerful facade in uncomfortable situations.
“Thrace is a kingdom of hard and stubborn people, and their army is larger than any of the other kingdoms’. There’s a chance that they won’t make a force of arms because Syracuse is backed by the other five kingdoms, while Thrace has made no allies. War may not come, but if it does, I want Marina to be safe.”
“Of course,” Sinbad said. “But what about you?”
“I’ll be alright. I just want to be assured that you and Marina are safe,” Proteus said. “My falconer will be presenting you with a fine falcon later. Take the falcon aboard the Chimera with you, then release her after six months.”
Sinbad’s fake smile slipped. “So long?”
“Come, Sinbad, we’ve been separated longer,” Proteus said, clamping a hand on Sinbad’s shoulder. His tone sobered. “The falcon will return to only me or my father. If it’s safe for you to return, I’ll send you a message with the falcon saying as much. But if the message says to not return, don’t.”
“Proteus-”
“Promise me, Sinbad. Promise you’ll keep Marina safe,” Proteus said.
“I will,” Sinbad said seriously. Then his tone lightened. “Not that she needs protection. Did you know she knew how to use a sword?”
Proteus laughed. “Haven’t you learned by now to not underestimate Marina?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
Proteus watched Sinbad shifting. “Don’t tell me you let her draw you into a duel and tried to go easy on her.”
Sinbad’s annoyed glance in Marina’s direction told Proteus all he needed to know. Marina met their eyes. Though she couldn’t know what the men were saying, she clearly knew she was the topic. She looked at Sinbad’s pout and Proteus’ amusement, then smiled broadly.
Proteus’ heart lightened to see his two friends so happy together.
The party had barely ended when the Chimera pulled out of port.
Proteus stood on the balcony outside the Great Hall, half-empty goblet still in hand, as he watched Sinbad’s crew scurrying around the ship. Sinbad and Marina stood at the helm.
As if sensing Proteus’ eye, both lifted their hands to wave. Proteus waved back. With only the servants cleaning the Great Hall behind him, Proteus let out a gusty sigh and rubbed his eyes.
It had been a long day after a long week after several long months. It was too soon to tell if Marina’s appearance had helped or worsened the situation with Thrace.
Not all their ambassadors were pitiless people with hearts of greed, of course. It was possible that seeing Marina happy would soften their protests.
Possible. Not likely, but possible. No kingdom really wanted to go to war, not after so many years of peace. Not with the promise of peace shining like a beacon from the center of Syracuse.
Proteus’ eyes went to the tower holding the Book of Peace. With the Chimera heading out to sea, Captain Abner and his soldiers would be going to reinforce protection in the tower. Stealing the Book of Peace didn’t seem like something Thrace would do, but, well… it was better safe than sorry.
Proteus turned from the window, weariness making his steps drag. He smiled slightly as he remembered tutors in his childhood telling him to pick up his feet and walk with purpose.
Knowing his father had retired for the night and that party attendees had returned to their rooms, Proteus made his slow way up to his own room.
Setting the goblet on the windowsill, Proteus changed out of his formal clothing into a more comfortable tunic and light pants, then sat on the bench under the window. Sipping from his goblet, Proteus looked down across the lights of the city.
His city. His people. What would happen if war came to Syracuse? Proteus would do anything to keep them all safe, and he wished he had a solution to ensure Thrace wouldn’t start a war with Sicily.
Proteus rubbed his forehead. He was tired and his head was suddenly pounding.
“There must be something,” Proteus muttered.
Proteus shifted the pillows on the bench and leaned against the wall, still gazing outside. His mind turned in pointless circles as he searched for a solution that might not exist.
Thrace was a big kingdom who had, in times past, reveled in showing their power in war. Proteus’ great-grandfather had been the first to convince the Thracian king of peace, and his son had followed in his footsteps. King Dymas had done his best to maintain that peace in his reign, and engaging Proteus to Marina had been a part of his efforts. Maybe Thrace wouldn’t accept any other solutions. Maybe they were restless and eager to show off their strength once again, to be the kingdom feared by all.
Proteus rubbed his eyes. Such needless violence, but unless he came up with something to appease Thrace, he was bringing it upon his own people.
Proteus sighed heavily and opened his eyes. The headache pulsed at his skull. And while it was spring, Proteus’ room felt hot and stifling thanks to the roaring fire in his fireplace. The wide open window gave him no relief, as Proteus’ room was turned away from the fresh ocean breezes.
Proteus glanced at his bed, his tired body yearning for sleep. But his mind was buzzing and his tunic stuck to his sweaty body.
Seeking relief, Proteus dragged himself to his feet and out of his room.
Guttering sconces threw flickering shadows on the hall walls as he passed. When Proteus had been young, he’d once been afraid to traverse the halls at night because of the shadows, but he’d long outgrown the childish fears of being stalked by shadows.
Or had he?
Proteus stopped and turned his head. He could have sworn he’d seen a shadow moving that wasn’t his, but there were no sounds of footsteps or voices.
“Who’s there?” Proteus asked. When nobody answered, he continued on, muttering, “Now I’m jumping at shadows.”
Proteus tripped over a stone and nearly fell head-long to the floor before catching himself with one hand on the wall. It was then that he realized he was still holding the goblet.
“What…”
Proteus wiped his sweaty forehead and pushed himself onward until he found an ocean-facing window. He took a deep breath of salty ocean air, the breeze chilling the sweat covering his face and body. He shivered, though he still felt overwhelmingly hot. His very bones ached and pain stabbed at his chest.
Proteus looked down at his hands resting on the windowsill. The sloshing wine remaining in his goblet caught his eye.
In a flash, Proteus remembered Sinbad’s joke about the Thracian’s poisoned wine. But if the wine had been… everyone else had… his father had drank the wine as well!
“Guards.”
The word came out of Proteus’ mouth as little more than a whisper. His chest heaved, but felt as though no air entered his lungs.
Proteus stumbled onward, stopping when he reached the great hall. He leaned against the wall, feeling as though the room was spinning beneath him. He grabbed at the wall, but his fingers felt stiff and odd. The goblet slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground.
“Your Highness?”
Proteus wearily lifted his head. A young serving boy named Sage was watching him with wide eyes. The boy shoved his tray of empty goblets onto a nearby table, then darted over to Proteus.
“Your Highness, what’s wrong?” Sage asked.
“My father,” Proteus whispered. His breathing rasped harshly in his throat. “Find… my father.”
Proteus’ legs gave out. Sage cried out and tried to catch Proteus with his small body, succeeding only in softening Proteus’ fall. The boy squirmed free and leaped to his feet.
“I’ll get Master Mathias!” Sage said.
“My… father,” Proteus forced out.
Sage’s head bobbed, then he was running, crying out, “Help, someone help! Something’s wrong with the prince!”
Proteus’ mouth hung open. His breaths came in short pants that shook his entire body. His heart and lungs felt like they were being squeezed. Darkness pressed at the corners of his vision.
Heavy footfalls came from nearby, then rough hands were moving him. Proteus’ head tilted back and he wheezed for breath. He squinted at the form leaning over him, but everything had become blurry.
“Fa…Father,” Proteus breathed.
Pain stabbed through his chest. Proteus’ body seized, then the last whisper of air spilled from his lungs and he sank into painless darkness.
Every breath felt as though he had icicles scraping down his throat. His lungs were so cold they burned. He panted, body twisting as he sought relief from the pain.
“Mathias, I think he’s waking,” said a voice over Proteus.
A calloused hand brushed Proteus’ brow, a low voice saying, “Easy, my prince. Zephyr, help me lift him.”
Proteus was lifted. His joints felt brittle, pain pulsing with the slightest motion. He heard groaning, and it took a moment for him to realize the sound was his own.
“Drink this,” said the low voice.
Mathias, Proteus thought. The royal physician. Why was he with Proteus? What had happened? Wait, hadn’t he-
Panic brought Proteus’ eyes snapping open. Zephyr, Mathias’ Brevian assistant, flinched, earning a sharp scold from Mathias.
“Father,” Proteus rasped, the word feeling like he was choking out a lump of ice. But he persisted. “Poison.”
Mathias’ bushy white brows drew together, then lifted in understanding. “Your father is fine, Proteus. You were the only one poisoned.”
Proteus sighed, sagging against Zephyr’s arms. Just as quickly, he stiffened. His breath huffed out harshly as another wave of pain struck him. He writhed, crying out when his joints felt like they were breaking in two.
“I said to drink, Proteus,” Mathias said, pushing a wooden cup to Proteus’ lips.
Proteus wanted to protest. Everything hurt. He could barely breathe, and wondered if he could even swallow.
But Mathias was more stubborn that Proteus had the strength to resist. Soon, warm liquid spilled into Proteus’ mouth and down his throat. He grimaced at the bitter taste, then choked. Liquid sputtered from between his lips, and Proteus shuddered at the renewed pain caused by the cough.
“Steady,” Zephyr murmured.
Proteus could feel the darkness pressing back down on him. He whispered for his father once more, then fell asleep.
Proteus remembered the pain when consciousness returned. A part of him wanted to stay asleep, but he found himself waking regardless. There was the pain, but dulled. His whole being felt slightly numb and his thoughts moved as slowly as if they were trapped in syrup.
A breeze touched one side of Proteus’ face, bringing with it the smell of salt and water. His head turned, almost of its own accord, toward the breeze. Someone moved nearby, and Proteus tensed before they spoke.
“Your Highness?”
Zephyr’s voice. The young man moved closer. Proteus felt burn-scarred fingers touch his forehead, then Zephyr moved away.
Another breeze washed over Proteus’ face. The warm air was soothing in his throat and lungs, which no longer felt full of ice. He breathed deep, then sighed.
“Your Highness? Can you hear me?”
Proteus forced his eyes open.
Zephyr was standing over him, lips drawn down in his perpetual worried frown. Spiky blond hair was in its usual disarray, not helped in the slightest as he ran his fingers through his hair.
Proteus took a deep breath. “What happened?”
Zephyr’s gray eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember?”
“Poison,” Proteus said.
“In the wine,” Zephyr said. “At least, that’s what we think. It was only you who was poisoned. Wait here, I’ll get Mathias.”
Proteus would’ve thought Zephyr was making a joke if he’d ever heard him joke. He watched Zephyr scurry from the room, then turned his attention to where he was.
It had taken him a moment to realize he wasn’t in his room, even with the hint of the ocean breeze. Sure enough, he was lying in one of the guest rooms on the ocean side of the palace. A tapestry on the wall and rug on the floor were the only decorations. Proteus laid propped up on a heap of pillows and a pile of blankets covered him.
“Ah, Proteus, you’ve come to rejoin the land of the living!”
Proteus looked at Mathias, smiling fondly. The old physician had lived in the palace for as long as Proteus could remember, and had served his father and grandfather. Proteus thought of Mathias as almost a grandfather, especially since he’d never known any of his grandparents.
Mathias pulled the blankets back. When he untied Proteus’ robe, Proteus was shocked by how gaunt his body looked. What in the world had happened?
Mathias took Proteus’ pulse and had him take several deep breaths, listening to his breathing. Proteus was sagging with tiredness by the end of the simple exercises, so Mathias helped him lay back down.
As he did, King Dymas hurried in with Zephyr on his heels. Ignoring Mathias, King Dymas went straight to Proteus.
“Don’t tire him out too much,” Mathias said in a voice that brooked no argument. He herded Zephyr toward the door. “We’ll leave you two alone. Call if you need me.”
“Father,” Proteus said slowly, each word coming out with effort, “Are you… sure you… are alright?”
“Only sick with worry over you, my son,” King Dymas said, stroking Proteus’ cheek. “I thought for sure I was going to lose you. I didn’t want to leave your side, but Mathias assured me that you were stable and the people had their usual petitions and wanted to know how you were faring.”
Proteus reached out and took his father’s hand, smiling to show he didn’t mind. As King Dymas had often said, a king’s work was never done. Then he frowned at a thought.
“How long…?”
“It’s been two weeks,” King Dymas said.
Proteus blinked, then looked down. Two weeks sleeping… no wonder he felt so weak and his body was so wasted!
“You’ve woken off and on, but you were in so much pain that Mathias said it was better to make you sleep until the worst passed,” King Dymas said. He squeezed Proteus’ hand. “If I knew who did this to you, I would kill him where he stood.”
“You don’t… know?” Proteus asked.
“Oh, I’m sure it was Thrace. The ambassadors insist that their king and nobility knew nothing of the assassination attempt, but who else would want to try and kill you?”
Proteus slowly shook his head. “Is it… war, Father?”
“No, Proteus,” King Dymas said with a wan smile. “The only good thing to come from this deplorable act is that the other five kingdoms have rallied behind Syracuse. Thrace doesn’t dare attack us now, and I’ve had more important things to worry about.”
“How-” Proteus broke off with a yawn.
King Dymas’ expression softened. “Sleep, my son. There will be more time for questions later.”
Proteus blinked heavily. He had more questions to ask, but his body was weighed down with exhaustion. His eyes fell shut and he sank into sleep, his hand still clasped in his father’s.