Free The Chosen Prince by Diane Stanley Page B

before him, while he looks very much like Alexos, is at the same time altogether different: gaunt, wizened, brooding.
    â€œAlexos?” Teo asks.
    â€œMore or less, little man.”
    â€œCarissa says you’re better now—but you look sad.”
    â€œDo I?” His voice sounds empty.
    â€œYes. You look different.”
    Alexos turns his head away.
    This isn’t at all what Teo expected. It’s probably his own fault. He should have said how much he’d missed Alexos, how he’d waited outside the sickroom all those afternoons, and how glad he is to see him again. That would have been so much nicer than saying he looks different and sad.
    â€œWe could go fishing,” he tries, thinking that might cheer his brother up. “We can take the boat out.” When Alexos doesn’t move, just continues to stare at the moving water, Teo skips over and climbs into the skiff. The poles are already there, as they have been since the last time they went out on the river. There’s no fresh bait, but Teo hasn’t thought of that. He just looks longingly at his brother. “Come on. It’ll be jolly.”
    He hears a little groan then—or was it a sob? Teo doesn’t see any tears, but his brother’s face is all twisted up, as if he’s about to cry. But at least he’s moving now, leaning on the cane, hauling himself up into a standing position. It looks hard. It looks like it hurts. But he’s coming, that’s the thing.
    Alexos struggles down the sharply sloping bank, then continues unsteadily along the water’s edge to where the skiff is tied. Only then does Teo truly grasp that there’s something terribly wrong with his brother’s legs. Can he even climb into the boat? Of course— that’s why he’s so sad!
    Alexos leans down, one hand gripping the cane, the other fumbling with the rope. It would have been easier with both hands, but he manages to undo the knot. He pauses for a moment, still holding the rope, staring at Teo, who sits there waiting, confusion on his small, round face. Then Alexos flings the line into the front of the skiff and pushes hard against the bow.
    The boat slips backward till the current catches it, spins it around, and starts to carry it downstream. Alexos continues to stand on the shore, watching. His face is so contorted with anguish, Teo wonders if he is dying.

11
    AN ODD ASSEMBLY IS waiting in the room when Suliman arrives. Besides the usual house servants, there’s a gardener, the side-door porter, a pair of humble laboring types, and one of the grooms. Suliman can feel the burning heat of their excitement: that blend of elation and anxiety, so common in moments of crisis.
    â€œOh, my lord physician!” the gardener cries as Suliman comes in. “Such a tragedy!” He claps a meaty hand to his chest to express the depth of his emotion. “I was the one who found him. And I didn’t know what else to do but carry him back to the palace—with the help of these fine lads here—and then to send for you. He isn’t dead, my lord, but he’s quite insensible.”
    Unwilling to take the man’s word for this, Sulimanmakes his way through the crowd, picks up the prince’s wrist, and feels for a pulse. He finds one, slow and steady. Then, satisfied, he returns his attention to the gardener.
    â€œWhere was he?” Suliman asks. “Please describe the circumstances.”
    â€œDown by the river, my lord. Right at the edge of the water. He was still breathing when I came across him, so I knew he was alive. But he wasn’t as he ought to be, neither. He wouldn’t open his eyes or speak a word, no matter how much I talked to him.”
    â€œDid it look to you like a simple fall? Anything else you want to add?”
    â€œProbably just a simple fall. There wasn’t any blood.”
    â€œWas he lying facedown?”
    â€œHe was.”
    â€œNot in that