Prince of Attania, 2

Attan spun the communicator on his fingers, letting it fall and catching it before it hit the floor. Should he use it to contact his father? The news was full of Darcy and the various royal Family who had gathered there. Attan could hear his grandparents talking about it in the other room.

Attan laid the communicator on the desk by his bed. No, his news could wait.

“Dinner!” Grandma called. They ate at five on the dot and expected Attan to eat what they set in front of him, whether he was hungry or not.

Before their only daughter had married the King, the Spencers were solidly middle-class. They still lived in the same modest home on the banks of the Mattick, right across from the non-family section of Low City. Few people knew they were Doll’s parents, thanks to Jet’s efforts to keep his private life private. Fewer still realized their King lived on the non-family side of Low City when he was not acting in any official capacity.

But today, Jet was acting as Attania’s King. Attan sipped his broth. It wasn’t bad, mostly liquid. His grandmother knew what type of food he preferred.

The news showed a shot of King Jet walking with his Queen to the City Hall. Speculation ran wild among the reporters, especially since the King had arrived in Darcy with another Family woman. Attan glimpsed Macek, who had accompanied Doll to the capital city, in quiet conversation with Thomas Merrell, the Enforcer, but the news cameras didn’t focus on them for long. All their attention was on the King and Queen, and the announcement that would soon be made.

Attan started on his meat, a thin slice of something unrecognizable. He thought it might be chicken. It tasted like clay, not at all like the fried stuff Greg’s mother served, but at least it didn’t look like what it used to be when it was alive. All right, he could get this down.

“There they are,” Grandma murmured, frowning at the small television. Her own food remained untouched on her plate.

Attan looked at the screen, expecting to see his parents coming out of City Hall. But the camera zoomed in on two others who were just now entering the building. One, Attan didn’t recognize, but the other was Lorra Graves. Both women wore conservative suits with matching skirt and jacket. They entered City Hall without any guards or Family members to accompany them, and again the speculations ran wild among the reporters.

“I’m done. Can I go now?” Attan asked. He hadn’t eaten the bread or the greens on his plate, but he was counting on his grandmother not noticing.

“This is important. Sit.” Attan’s grandfather, a short, rotund man for one of the Family, usually was even-tempered, like his daughter. Today he seemed on edge. Attan sat back down.

When Macek Merrell had told them he needed to escort the Queen to Darcy, he’d said the King needed to discuss something important with her. Attan had guessed what it must be about and so, apparently, had Doll’s parents. Now, most of Attania was speculating on the same thing. Would the King take another Queen as tradition demanded? Would he take more than one, as evidenced by the two Family women who had followed him into City Hall? Would he put aside his current wife, the commoner Queen of Low City?

Questions were raised about Doll’s inability to have more than one child, and about whether the current heir was suitable to take the throne one day. Attan realized why his father had not wanted him to come to Darcy along with Doll. He suddenly felt a bit sorry for his mother.

“Here they come,” Grandma said tensely.

The doors of City Hall opened as if of their own volition, and King Jet and Queen Doll came out together, hand in hand. Jet stopped at the podium which had been set up just outside. “I have chosen to take another Queen for my capital city of Darcy,” he announced, holding out his hand. Lorra Graves walked out of City Hall towards the King and Queen, her curly black hair a cloud around her pale face. She took Jet’s hand and let herself be drawn up to the podium until she stood between them.

“Lorra Graves,” Jet introduced her. She was a cousin, but then they all were, in one degree or another. “The wedding will take place in the spring, here in Darcy.”

The Family who had gathered in the square around City Hall cheered loudly. Most of them were royals who had come to hear the announcement. This is what they had wanted for ten long years.

Lorra stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss Jet’s cheek in acknowledgment. Attan knew she must be gloating inside. Marrying the King was something Lorra had always wanted.Lorra turned to Jet’s current Queen and impulsively threw her arms around her. Doll was visibly startled, but then she smiled and hugged Lorra back.

“I will also take a Queen for my city of Wister in the western province,” Jet continued, stretching out his other hand.

The Family woman Attan hadn’t recognized emerged from City Hall. She was taller than Lorra, and younger, but very striking, with long, dark hair done up in a bun on the top of her head. “Madelyne Farley, daughter of my half-brother Alston Farley, governor of Wister.”

That made Madelyne a niece, Attan figured out. Not that it mattered.

“The wedding will take place in Wister on the first day of summer.”

Madelyne kissed Jet proprietorially on the mouth, before turning to kiss Doll on both cheeks. She murmured something to Doll as they embraced, but it was too low for the news crews to pick up. Doll smiled, however, and made way for Madelyne to stand next to Lorra, so that both women were between her and Jet.

“My Queens!” Jet presented them to his audience. “Soon to be Queen Lorra of Darcy, and Queen Madelyne of Wister. And of course, my Queen and my wife, Doll of Low City.”

The applause was thunderous, before the cameras cut away to yet more speculation and discussion. Floria Spencer sat back with a sigh. Her daughter wasn’t to be put aside. She picked at her dinner, surprised to find that it was cold.

The next morning, Attan asked permission to visit his classmate Greg’s farm. Greg’s sister Lacey squealed when he solidified right in front of her as she balanced a bucket of eggs on one hip. “Shh!” Attan said with a slight grin. He didn’t want the other girls to come running. Lacey was the only one out in the yard, but where one twin was, the other was never far behind.

“Attan!” Farra threw down her apron and caught Attan around the waist. “What are you doing here so bright and early? Want some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” Attan echoed. “No, thanks. I’m looking for your brother.”

“Greg’s not here right now,” Lacey answered. “Come into the kitchen and get warm.” She took his arm, and Farra took his other arm, and the two of them walked him back to the house. The kitchen was indeed warm, and smelled good with baking things rather than roasted animals.

“Here, have a muffin.” Farra slathered butter all over the muffin, which was still warm enough to melt it.” Attan looked at it dubiously. “Try it. It’s good.”

He took a bite. Then another. It was good. “Your brother?” he mumbled between mouthfuls.

Lacey poured him a glass of milk to wash the muffin down, and Attan drank it to be polite. He licked his lips.

Farra sat on the bench next to him. “Greg’s up in the hills with Dad, clearing brush,” she said. “We could bring you there if you really want to go.”

“Or you could stay here with us,” Lacey added.

Attan heard noises from down the hallway. Molly, or one of the other girls. Or all of the girls. He stood up. “No, I’ll find him. Just point out the direction.”

Pouting, Farra pointed. “You’d rather play with Greg than with us.”

Actually, that was true. Greg’s sisters scared Attan in a way he couldn’t really explain. But today he didn’t want to play at all.

He dissipated to wind, causing the girls to giggle and sweep their arms around trying to locate him. But unlike blind Emma, these non-family girls couldn’t sense his presence at all. Thankfully. Attan took off in the direction Farra had indicated, beyond the harvested cornfields and up into the hills above them. He knew what was on the other side of those hills.

Greg and his father really were clearing brush. Attan scouted the general area to see if Tom or any of his men were around, but he didn’t see them. On the other side of the access road which led to Tom’s mountain hideaway, Greg’s father chopped down trees in a two-foot swath. Widening the road? Attan swooped down, materializing at the last second right in front of Greg as he had before Lacey.

Greg swore and dropped the heavy tree limb he was dragging. He sat back heavily in the dirt and glared up at Attan. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Attan countered. Behind them the wide overhead door to the mountain hideaway was raised, though the interior was dark. From the outside it looked as if the door was implanted right into the mountainside itself. Attan knew that it had been purposely built that way, and that inside, the rock had been hewn away to turn the man-made cave into a storage room. He also knew that it tied into natural caves deep within the mountain.

Greg glanced at the opening to the mountain storage room. “We’re gathering firewood,” he said stubbornly.

“Firewood.” Stolen corn more likely. Attan started forward.

“Don’t go in there!” Greg moved into Attan’s path to block him, mocking Attan when he would have faded to wind. “Can’t take me without turning to Elemental, can you? I dare you to fight me person to person!”

Greg was taller, wider and a little bit older than Attan. He had all the advantages physically over the slender Family Prince. But Attan was strong, even as a physical being. “Go ahead, try and stop me,” he jeered. “I don’t need my Elemental powers to get by you.”

Greg rushed him, swinging determinedly. Attan ducked his fists and swung one of his own, but he missed. Greg grabbed Attan around the waist and wrenched him to the ground, sitting on top of him. “I heard about you on the news. When your father has other children with his new Queens, you won’t be the heir anymore, you’ll just be the Prince of Low City.”

“So?” Attan growled, using his superior strength to throw Greg off. “Maybe I don’t want to be the heir.” He stood, breathing heavily, and glared down at Greg. “You!” He accused Greg. “You knew all along about your brother’s secret plans. You were helping him!”

“What are you talking about?” Greg replied. “You know about Tom’s plans too.” But he flushed as Attan pointedly glanced at the cave behind them.

“Where’s Tom?” Attan demanded.

Greg pushed himself to his feet but now Attan stood between him and the cave entrance. “How should I know? He only comes around when he wants something.”

That was true, but it didn’t change the fact that Greg and his father had helped Tom take away the much-needed corn from Midver, all the while acting as if they were the heroes who had saved Midver from starvation. “I’m going in there.” Attan stomped towards the cave entrance, half expecting Greg to tackle him from behind, but the non-family boy remained where he was in the road.

Attan didn’t bother reverting to Elemental form; as human, he let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Like the time he had secretly visited with Jet, the front room which opened to the road was used for storage, and had been carved out of the mountain rock. Its shelves were filled with baskets of corn.

“It’s unfortunate you had to see this.”

Attan twisted around to see Greg’s father haloed in the doorway next to Greg. With a grinding crash, the heavy overhead doors closed behind them. Greg’s father flicked on the overhead lights, a grim look on his weathered face.

“How could you?” Until that moment, Attan had been desperately trying to think of every other alternate explanation for why this storage area was filled with corn. Maybe Renn hadn’t sold all of his own crop after all, maybe all the farmers in this part of Low City used Renn’s storage cave, maybe . . . “They were your own people!”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Renn said, moving steadily forward. “I would never let the people of Midver starve.”

He was careful not to say he didn’t take the corn, Attan noted. “What will you do—give Greg’s allotment of fish from school to them again?” By the startled look on Renn’s face, that’s exactly what he had planned. “But why? Why take it at all?”

“You don’t understand,” Renn said, coming still closer. Attan let him. Neither Greg nor his father could hold Attan if he didn’t want to be held. “We loaded up my truck with the excess, as we agreed, but then Tom made a deal with the town—he said they didn’t need all that corn, that if any Family came by, they would be in a lot of trouble. He said they would be much better off if Tom took most of the corn and sold it, then used the money to buy other supplies, different things, that wouldn’t make Midver stand out if anyone ever investigated. It was a good suggestion.”

“But he didn’t do that,” Attan said. “I was just there, and he never came back. He never intended to sell that corn, did he? What’s he going to do with it—supply his army?”

Greg sucked in a breath, shocked.

Renn made a grab for Attan, who disappeared, merging through the non-family man and out the other side. He took back his form behind Renn, who whirled around, more desperately frightened than angry. “You can’t get out of here,” he reminded Attan.

Attan could, but that would let them know what he was truly capable of. “So what now?” he asked. “Are you going to keep me in here indefinitely? People know I came up to visit Greg.”

“The King and Queen are in Darcy,” Renn said more firmly. “That gives me time to contact Tom. He’ll know what to do.”

“Yes, contact Tom,” Attan agreed. “I’ll wait.” He knew about the communicator in the hidden room and wondered if Renn would actually go for it. He chanced a glance at Greg, who had fooled him the most, and was surprised to see his friend edging for the overhead door. He leaned on the lever, and the heavy doors slowly heaved open, protesting loudly.

“Go on, get out of here,” Greg yelled.

Attan hesitated. Greg had given him an out, but that didn’t solve the bigger problem. He compromised by scooting out under the opening door, still in human form, and stopping just outside. The door had to finish its painstaking progression upwards before the lever could be engaged once more to bring it back down.

Renn clutched his head in his hands. “We’re dead,” he moaned.

Greg walked under the door. “Take the corn,” he said. “Get rid of it, sell it, give it back to Midver.” He stared hard at Attan. “Do what you have to do.”

Attan considered. Not only Tom and his organization were at stake here. Greg and his father were involved somehow, but not Greg’s sisters. If Attan brought the Family down on them, Molly and her daughters would be the ones to suffer. And Midver. If Attan told his father what had happened, Midver would no longer be his secret.

He let his body go, tired of holding on to human seeming and human sensibilities. For a long time he melded with Attania, becoming her elements with no part of him human. It was so very tempting just to stay that way forever.

But Grandma would have dinner waiting, so Attan returned to the physical world. Later, after supper, he took out the communicator Jet had given him. “Dad? I have to tell you something.”