Free A Strange and Ancient Name by Josepha Sherman Page B

the dark corridors that night of Moon Dark. His silent approach startled two guards, who whirled, silver-headed spears at the ready, only at the last moment recognizing: “Ae, my prince, forgive us! We didn’t realize—”
    “No matter. No. Don’t follow. I would be alone.”
    Hauberin kept himself most regally proud of carriage till he was out of their sight, then slowly let his shoulders sag. Those guards were supposed to have been actively patrolling. He should have said something. But he just hadn’t been able to find the energy.
    And was this what Serein had meant by his strange curse? That every time Hauberin slept, he would start to—
    Phaugh! I will not carry his words around like some idiotic little spell-slave!
    No? Then what was he doing wandering the palace corridors like some sleepless wraith? Hauberin gave a dry little laugh, stopping to lean against a wall, welcoming its support, enjoying its smooth coolness, his head thrown back.
    If anyone should ask, I can always blame my father’s blood.
    Prince Laherin had truly been a born traveler, wandering even into other Realms whenever time and royal duties permitted. Hauberin saw himself in his mind’s eye, a small, dark child staring wide-eyed up at the tall, golden-haired being who always seemed far too splendid to be merely Father, shyly asking the man to travel with him. Laherin had laughed, ruffling his son’s hair, promising lightly that yes, he would take the child-Hauberin with him some day.
    Some day. After the death of Hauberin’s mother, that promise had been forgotten. Prince Laherin had thrown himself into a frenzy of grief from which, in time, he had emerged apparently unchanged. Only Hauberin knew that some small corner of Laherin’s soul had died as well. There had been wilder and ever more perilous journeyings over the years, stolen in secret stretches of other-time, with none suspecting but his desperate son, helpless to stop him.
    And at last Laherin had found what, perhaps, he had been seeking all along: his death.
    Jaws clenched, Hauberin blinked fiercely, telling himself it was merely weariness lowering his defenses. After all, he and his father had never been truly close. And yet, and yet . . .
    Damn!
    The prince wiped angrily at his eyes and strode determinedly forward. Even after these six years, he hadn’t forgotten the anguish of suddenly waking knowing with a dreadful psychic certainty that his father was dead, slain by mischance or some yet-unknown hand—
    No. He wouldn’t dwell on unhappiness. If the past insisted on being recalled, he would think only of the bright days, of his father as happy explorer. As romantic, too, though none would have guessed it from that cool royal facade.
    Hauberin smiled. The man had definitely been a romantic. Who else would have fallen so deeply in love with a human woman, slight, dark little Melusine? Who else but a romantic would have ignored all the warnings and shocked murmurings from his court to make her his wife and royal consort?
    And what of Melusine? Hauberin could understand a human woman falling in love with a tall, golden Faerie prince. But what courage she must have had, even with love’s support, to come here to an unknown land and people, forever leaving behind all she knew.
    But she had succeeded in making herself a new life here.
    Hauberin’s smile softened tenderly. Ah, Mother. I do miss you, too.
    Of course he hadn’t realized her courage back then when he’d been a boy. She had been merely Mother, warm and loving, but with a wry wit to her that hadn’t allowed her son self-pity or shame. But his memories of her were a child’s memories; she had died so unexpectedly young, when he had been barely eight. Had things been different . . .
    Ah, but who could avoid Destiny? At least, Hauberin told himself, she had had the chance to love and know herself loved in return.
    And so I come to be small, like her, and dark. And half-human.
    Less than half-human.
    Hauberin