Basil and Sage stood there, stoic and statuesque in that haze, surveying the situation with calculating eyes. When Sage saw me, knocked against a home and slumped on the ground next to a worse off Conifer, a smile appeared for a moment on his face before he was back to business, unable to enjoy the fact that I was alive and well.

“Sorry I’m late, boy. Got hung up trying to grab this ass out of another scrape, isn’t that right Basil?”

The man next to him barely resembled the Basil I had met back at Sage’s home two months prior. He had a full, deep green beard and long, stringy hair that was too unkempt to resemble the cleanness his hair had before. A scar ran down the side of his left cheek, still fresh and bruised red enough to be visible in the haze. He wore a long black cloak lined in fur, concealing much of his body in a shroud.

I didn’t hear Basil say anything, just saw Sage shrug and move forward, toward the large scarred man, who was on his feet but still recovering from the wave that slammed the town.

Coughing, the man asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I am the king of these islands,” Sage declared, taking on a persona more regal than I’d heard from him before. “What business do you have here, burning down my city in my absence? If you’ve a grievance, take it up with my denial department.”

“Denial department?” the man asked, now standing up straight. He was a full head taller than Sage.

“Yeah,” Sage said, nodding toward Basil. “He’s not good at much outside of telling idiots like you, ‘No,’ and sending them on their way. Isn’t that right, Basil?”

He gave no reply, or even a sense of movement.

“See what I mean?” Sage sniggered. “He’d even deny his old pal the chance to hear his lovely voice. A man that insane is not to be messed with.”

“Is this your idea of a threat, green man?” the scarred man asked, arms folded.

“It was his idea actually,” he replied. “My idea was to skip the diplomacy and kick your ass out of here myself.”

The man took a step forward and got into Sage’s face like he was ready to start a barroom brawl. “You don’t sound much like a king.”

“And you don’t much look like a man, beating on the defenseless citizens of my home,” Sage growled. “You know better.”

For a second, they glared at each other, a staredown in utter silence, neither willing to give in even a little, their eyes unblinking.

Then they were interrupted by one of the men leaping over to attack Sage, screeching the whole way in a battle cry that resembled a bat more than a man. Sage never turned to even look at him, or move at all. In fact it didn’t seem to me that anyone attacked the screeching man, yet he fell to the ground in a heap a few steps before reaching Sage, a hole in his head like something had smashed through it. I looked around, trying to figure out what happened, but saw no one and nothing that could have done anything. Conifer was too tired and beat up to notice it had happened, and the other guy saw that his comrade was hurt and decided it was time to pipe down and leave.

Sage licked his lips and smiled. “You should get going now, before you’re late in more ways than one.”

The scarred man smirked and nodded, turned to leave. “Fine. Maybe we can spar next time I see you, then.”

Nodding, Sage sighed and said, “Maybe, Bitter. If we live long enough.”

Then, the man Sage called Bitter gathered his men and left more silent than he’d come.

Once Bitter had left from sight, Sage came over to me and felt my limbs to check if they were hurt. He didn’t speak during this time, just looked me over like a doctor. When he got to my hands, he gasped and grabbed my right one tighter.

“Did you fight?” he asked, somber.

“I had to,” I grunted, repositioning myself so my back was against the wall. “Everyone was in danger, and you were gone.”

Sage shook his head and rolled up my sleeve and pulled back my cloak, revealing the skin on my arm. “You didn’t use any weapons at all? Why? It’s dangerous to fight defenseless.”

I winced from his touch; the whole limb was tender, more so than I had realized. My head was pounding with this idle ache, a throb that only revealed itself the moment I forgot about it.

“I made due with what I had,” I breathed, finding it difficult to speak.

He didn’t pay attention, though. Instead, he pulled my shirt up, revealing my stomach.

“Oh, don’t worry I wasn’t hur—”

“Hush,” he cut me off. “Let me grab your hands and look into my eyes.”

Frowning, I went along with it. In a few seconds, our eyes were locked and our hands were together like they’d been so many times with my mother and Arsene.

This time, however, Sage’s eyes grew wide with fear. And in my peripheral, I saw Conifer move when he gasped, coughing in surprise.

“Is he okay?” he choked out, painful.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my stomach?” I asked, then reactively I looked down and saw my body, what it looked like during this ritual.

My skin was covered in what looked like black tattoos, the back of my hands covered in a circle with eight lines intersecting them like the suns rays, then three lines weaving in and out in an intricate thread all the way up my arm and presumably across the rest of my body. My stomach was covered in a much larger circle, with more intricate rays that also made it resemble a sun, or maybe a flower. The lines were a deep black, the kind that was endless if you didn’t look away. Seeing my body like this made me jump up, despite the pain, for the surprise was greater in me.

“What’s this?” I babbled in confusion, probably looking far from fine. “What’s happened to me?”

Conifer echoed my questions, and Sage grew weary of us, rolling his eyes and holding his palms up.

“Easy, the both of you. This isn’t something new, it’s the seal your mother gave you.”

He said it so casually, so conversationally, that you’d think he was saying I was just the changing of the seasons, just a blustery day, just another rabbit scurrying in the undergrowth, just another noise in the ether. I gave him a look with too much emotion to really say any particular thing, because I wasn’t sure what was happening. When he met my eyes, I could see he wasn’t feeling great about it either; he went to grab my shoulder but I pulled back, leaving his hand out to reach for me in the air.

“Look, this is going to take a while and you both need some medical attention. We’ll talk about this back at our shack.”

“No we won’t!” Conifer grunted, trying to get up despite his wounds. I went to grab him but Basil was there first, his body moving in such a dark blur you’d mistake him for a phantom. “Oh, thank you, sir,” Conifer said, dismissive. Basil didn’t even nod. “But anyway, no we can’t go back to you. We must get back to Parsley and Rose, and see that they are well.”

Sage shook his head but agreed. “Fine. I assume they’re the two women who have been spying through that hole back there?”

He held a thumb out toward Rose and Parsley, both of whom were watching us even then, through that fog. I saw the shadows of them move in the haze, back into their little hovel. Conifer nodded, and we were off.

When we got back, Sage stepped inside and let out an exhausted noise. “This isn’t enough room,” he groaned, placing a palm on the wall. Either he used his power, or the wall was just finished, because it collapsed in a heap afterwards. Everyone except Basil and himself flinched and shielded their face. When the building didn’t collapse, he just shrugged and said, “Well, that works, I guess. Here, you girls help me get rid of this debris and we can set up a spot for everyone to rest.” So the four of them set about to fixing a spot for us, while I sat with Conifer, trying to get his mind off the pain he had. Outside of bruising in the areas Bitter hit him, and a few stray cuts that weren’t that deep, the issues were internal and none of us could properly see what was happening to him. He put on a tough face, but I was worried; anything could be going on beneath his skin. He could die.

“You’re going to be all right,” I said, holding him up by his shoulder with my good arm.

Breathing raggedly, he smirked, the sweat glistening on his face. “So you’re the prince of Avocado,” he said, smiling wider as he said it.

“Don’t bother yourself with that,” I said. “It’s not like it matters anyway.”

“Don’t speak for me!” he wheezed, drawing the attention of Rose, who needed to be told by Parsley to ignore him and keep moving everything. I grimaced, but said nothing. Obviously he had something to say, and I didn’t have it in me to keep him from saying it.

“I should have known before,” he spoke softly, his voice so quiet it carried a tired ophidian whisper. “You came here with him, after all. Our king wouldn’t bring any old kid here, it wouldn’t make sense.” He stifled a cough, then glared at Sage’s back with his dark eyes, droopy with heavy bags beneath them and deep, red rivers running through them. “I can’t believe I told some prince the story of my life. Housed one in my trashy home. Even scolded him like he were…” The tears were flowing openly then, and I didn’t know what to do. He sobbed, and I kept holding his shoulder, doing my best to stare at nothing and failing miserably, passing glances and paying attention to my peripheral as if it were my central vision. Eventually, the situation became too much for everyone to ignore, and I saw Rose tear up, not necessarily because she felt the same but probably more because of her nature as someone of empathy, seeing the sadness of Conifer was too much for her to bare. She dropped the assorted sticks and wood and trash she carried, and went to turn to comfort Conifer, maybe even me, when Sage placed a massive hand on her shoulder, the small motion so loud it caught my attention like thunder. He didn’t speak to her, just gave her a somber face that said, “I’ll take it from here.”

Sage came over to us and knelt down, in front of Conifer more than myself. “You took care of the boy in my stead,” he said with a warmth whose depth I could not fathom, “Is that correct?”

Conifer looked at him with so much emotion he appeared blank.

“I’m sorry if he caused you any trouble,” Sage continued, not averting his eyes. “He can be a terrible kid, but inside of him is someone good, someone who cares more than he lets on,” he glanced at me, smiling. “I can compensate you in any way you wish, if you need.”

I saw Conifer ball a fist, but before he could do anything that he’d regret I interrupted him.

“Conifer is searching for his family,” I said. “His wife and daughter were taken from him by war a long time ago, and he’s been searching ever since. I think after all he’s been through, it’s our duty to help him.”

Sage raised an eyebrow at me, and Conifer was speechless. I don’t think it ever occurred to him that asking for help was an option.

“You know, it’s rude to speak for someone without their consent,” Sage said with a dubious smirk. “I should think if Conifer had a request, he’d ask on his own, wouldn’t you sir?”

Conifer wheezed, “Sir? My king, I’m no sir. I’m a simple musician.”

“Too simple to ask me for something?”

He sat, dumbfounded, then shook his head. “Please,” he said. “Please help me find my family.”

Nodding, Sage said, “I can do that. If they aren’t here in the Orange Archipelago, I should think they’re somewhere out in the Tamarind continent proper. That would mean a lot of sailing, a lot of walking and information gathering for me and Basil here. It would take years for my crew to go searching for two women like that, maybe more. Then we’d have to come back and find you. You might not even be alive by then.”

Conifer stared down into his lap, wiped the mix of blood and spit from the corner of his mouth. “So it’s impossible?”

Sage laughed heartily. “Nothing’s impossible for me, my friend. I was just thinking if you need my help it might make more sense for you to accompany us?”

I blinked at him, then at Conifer, who was staring equally as confused as I was back at me.

“Of course, if our young prince here has proven to be too big a nuisance to you—”

“No!” Conifer said, his eyes once again watery. “No, that should be fine. If you’ll have me, then I’ll gladly come along.”

With great effort, Conifer leaned in to hug me, and while I looked over his shoulder at Sage I mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to him. I never told him just how much it meant to me that he would take Conifer along with us like that, but a part of me thinks he knew just how important it was to help him, not just for himself but for me too.

Everyone finished making our beds of hay, and soon we were both lying down and under the care of our impromptu nurses Rose and Basil, neither of whom probably understood exactly what they were doing but helped anyway. Rose knew how to sew well enough to stitch the outer wounds that were particularly bad on Conifer, and Basil had knowledge of general medicine that he was able to prepare easy enough for us, and got my arm into a position that would allow it to heal faster and more correctly. They weren’t sure if Conifer’s inner wound would heal, but Basil and Sage were confident enough that no one thought too hard about it. Through it all, Basil still hadn’t spoken.

Sage left Basil with us and told him to rest, and told me that if he didn’t rest to force him to. I don’t think I could have done that, but the moment Sage left Basil was passed out and snoring with so much immediacy it almost seemed fake. Conifer was asleep due to some of the medicine that Basil had given him, so it was just me, Parsley and Rose, both of whom never spoke to me much save for the basic greetings we’d administer here and there, or the idle small talk which would occur during the times Conifer and I would visit. Before, I was just a young boy Conifer had taken in as some surrogate son. Now I was the prince of a foreign country.

It’s strange how you spend so much time around people, even think you care for them, and yet you don’t know a thing about them.

With that in mind, I found myself staring down at my hand, remembering what it looked like covered in those black tattoos, and wondering what Sage meant when he said I had been sealed. The sounds of outside lingered in that home, everyone in Persea probably seeing what the commotion was about and fixing everything, no doubt with Sage at the helm.

“Erm,” Rose said, padding softly over to me with a nervousness unusual for her. It made me wince; I must have scared her with everything that happened.

“What is it?” I asked, staring up at her from my hay bed. Her skin was so pale it almost glowed in the darkness.

“I just wanted to say—”

“We, dear,” Parsley said, speaking softly from her sickness. She was beside Rose now, resting both hands affectionately on her daughter’s shoulders. “We must thank you and Conifer, and Sage and Basil too of course. You all came to our aid, knowing we couldn’t get out of here due to my illness.”

I smiled lightly and glanced over at Conifer. “All your thanks should go to him, honestly. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t fight tooth and nail to get to you guys.” Sighing, I could feel my hands shaking, the nerves getting to me. Admission to my dishonorable actions made things feel more real, yet more unreal at the same time. How could I be so foolish to think leaving them behind was a good idea? “He really loves the two of you.”

Parsley nodded, clearing her throat of all the phlegm she had, an exercise in futility she had become accustomed to. “We know. When he told me about his family, I realized very quickly that to him, we were replacements for his own, though I suspect he doesn’t realize it.”

She was perceptive, I thought. Maybe she knew I was a prince the entire time.

“Well, I’m not sure about all that,” I replied.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a pretty introspective guy. I’d bet Conifer knows what you are to him on some level, but honestly I don’t think he sees you as that completely. He doesn’t love you like his old family, he loves you like a second family.”

Parsley and Rose both smiled at that, and I could tell that me saying that helped clear away some of the fear Rose seemed to harbor toward me and open up a line of dialogue between us again, albeit a small, awkward line.

“Well said,” Conifer whispered grinning in his bed. Parsley jumped so fiercely she erupted into a coughing fit, and Rose helped her over to her own bed. He laughed lightly, sounding far away. “Sorry, I can’t sleep so well with this pain. I’ll be waking up all night.

“But,” he continued, groaning as he got up to his feet, “How in the world did you know that was how I felt? I never said anything like that to you.”

I shrugged, unable to conceal the satisfaction on my face. “You do say it though. In your one song you like to sing while we harvest bell peppers.”

He smirked, then limped out, saying he had to relieve himself.

Rose came over to me quickly, kneeling down to ask, “What does he sing about mom and me?”

So, from memory I said the words which Conifer sang, though I may have gotten a few wrong:

I lost my ring along the way,

Oh, oh, oh,

I lost count of all the days,

Oh, oh, oh,

Yet the memory remains,

Oh, oh, oh

Yet the memory remains,

I lost my color in the sun,

Oh, oh, oh,

I lost the time on the run,

Oh, oh, oh,

But I kept up my selfish deeds,

Oh, oh, oh,

But I kept up my selfish deeds,

Well I keep on moving forward,

Oh, oh, oh,

Unsure what I’m moving toward,

Oh, oh, oh,

But we’ll get there together,

Through the good and bad weather,

We’ll make due with this life,

And enjoy our time together.

“That’s not how it goes,” Conifer chided, limping back to his bed of hay with indignance. “Well, whatever. In any case, you figured me out. I’m going to try and sleep again.”

I nodded, “That’s fine. Rest as much as you can.”

Which left just me and Rose, awake far past our typical rest hours. She obviously wasn’t sure what to do, and decided to sit awkwardly in the middle of the room, equal distance from everyone and facing the wall, staring through the hole that was in it, looking more inward than out.

Under normal circumstances, I found her too interesting to look at to really speak to. But crisis situations are good for bringing out the talkative side in anyone, as it helps reaffirm you’re still alive. And on that night, I desperately wanted to remind the world I was there.

“You okay?” I asked, not looking at her more because moving my body required too much commitment for me at that moment.

She nodded, then pulled her legs up to her stomach, resting her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms. Her hair was wild, unkempt from the commotion, and her eyes were so sunken in that out of everyone there, she was the one who looked like she needed sleep most.

“What’s it like?” she asked, still staring off into nothing.

I moved then, groaning the whole way. “What’s what like?”

“Being a prince.”

Sighing, I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Not much different from being a commoner, I guess.”

“Really?” she asked, surprise in her voice.

“Mhm,” I nodded. “Honestly, I probably felt more ill at ease in the castle than I ever have out of it. They want you to be someone specific, you know? Like you’ve got to be this thing that walks a certain way and says these specific sentences and phrases at the correct times, and you’ve got to know how to fight using a sword because a sword is elegant and royal, and you’ve got to appear handsome and interesting at all times so the common folk follow you, and it’s all a huge headache.”

“That sounds like a lot,” she said, giggling softly so she wouldn’t wake anyone.

“It is,” I said, my voice even lower than hers. “It’s too much. I’m no prince.”

“Well, that’s not true,” she said, finally looking at me. My eyes darted away.

“In what way?”

“If your mother was a queen, and your father was a king, then you’re a prince and that’s just the way it is,” she said, her eyebrows raised as if she were playing a silly children’s game. “There isn’t anything to think about there, just as I was born from my mother so I can only be me, you were born as you and can only be you. Even if you aren’t the best prince you can be, that’s just what you are. You can’t change that.”

I didn’t believe her, but I said, “Yeah, maybe. I never really looked at it that way.”

“Well, it’s rather simple,” she said, smiling. “I wish I could be someone like that.”

“Why? Aren’t you content with your life already?”

“Oh sure, in some ways it’s okay,” she said, back to staring into the street. “But I suppose things always appear grand on the outside. I don’t want to live a life without meaning, and being royalty would make it pretty easy to find something for my life.”

“You’re pretty good at healing people,” I said. “Why not just do that?”

“You don’t get it,” she sighed. “Mother’s the same way. It’s not about the position, it’s what you do with it. And personally, I don’t think I could be someone special when it comes to healing. I wouldn’t change any lives.”

“That’s a foolish statement,” I laughed.

Rose squinted her eyes at me. “What’s so funny about wanting to do something meaningful?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “You changed a few lives today by helping fix Conifer and myself up. I don’t really know how to show you how much that means. Maybe you’re looking at things on too large a scale. You can change lives more slowly than a prince, but probably more effectively. I don’t see the problem there. Now me, I can change lives, sure, but if I do it poorly I won’t exactly be well liked. People might kill me—hell they might try even if I do well. If you try your best, people will still love you, least I think they will.”

“Hmm,” she buried her face into her knees.

“What? Do I still not get it?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you for the advice, but honestly I think I just don’t know what I want to do.”

“That’s normal,” I sighed. “I don’t think anyone really knows what they want until they’re older. We’re only thirteen or fourteen, so we have some time still.”

Rose laughed then. “Actually, I’m fifteen. Almost sixteen.”

Which made my face turn a bright scarlet that hopefully wouldn’t be seen in the dark. “Oh, I thought you were about my age.”

“Well, kind of,” she said. “Just not the same exact age.”

“What are you talking about? Being almost sixteen makes you about two or three years older than me!”

She was chuckling heartily then, which earned her a groggy smack from her mother.

We both decided it was best to quiet down and sleep then, and in minutes she was out like the smoldering wick of a candle, snoring subtly in the mostly silent room. The work being done outside was somewhat noisy, but it was so dull that it became white noise to me, and I should have been able to sleep. My mind raced too much, however, with the thought of the girl sleeping across from me and the men I fought—the man I killed, both penetrating my head with a needle tipped dagger.

Both thoughts were frightening, perhaps, but my fear and anxiety of Rose was more welcoming than the haunt of my first murder.