Page 68 of The King's Menagerie

Their clothes were unremarkable, but their swords and armor were all of good quality. Those metal breastplates were an odd choice, uncommon in Tavamara. Even the royal guards wore leather armor for the most part. The swords were also high quality. Whoever these men had been, they were either good at their job or had thought they were.

The way it had taken six of them running about like angry chickens inclined him toward the second option. Smart, competent criminals were the exception, not the rule.

Once confident he would not be easily traced, and that he had all the information he could gather from the bodies, he swung up onto Feather behind Kajan and rode off into the thin forest that eventually would spill into the mountains that much later on formed the border between Tavamara and its northern neighbors. They traveled as quickly as he could manage, while stopping frequently to cover their tracks and ensure they were not followed.

By the time they reached his home, he was exhausted. He had not felt this sort of tension, this awareness, for a very long time. He thought he had left it all behind. He had intended to leave it all behind.

Pain twisted in his chest, a wound that would always be raw, as painful now as it had been seven months and six days ago. He would never forget how it had felt to hold his brother's dead and bloody body in his arms. The light forever gone from brown eyes, so much like their mother's. Dead because Ramsay had been too busy guarding a prince and had trusted his brother to others.

Making a rough sound, he dismounted, helped Kajan down, and then led Feather into the stable he had built himself shortly after arriving. The house had already been here, if onlybarely. He had gotten it for a pittance from a man who had been delighted to have the old cabin—shack, really—off his hands. But Ramsay had nothing but time on his hands now, and so had used it to make the house respectable and add a small stable to the property.

Now, buried in the thin forest, with a view of mountains all around him, he had found a reasonable imitation of peace.

Kajan examined everything curiously, eyes wide, the tears drying on his cheeks momentarily forgotten as he took in what must be shockingly humble surroundings to him. Feather played with his hair, making Kajan giggle. Much like Ramsay himself, Feather had been impeccably trained, and he'd always seemed to genuinely enjoy children while having little patience for most adults.

Kajan would likely never know how fortunate he was that it was Ramsay of all people who had come to his rescue. Soon, hopefully, this would all be a distant and largely forgotten memory for him. Though as he was the crown prince, more and increasingly dangerous problems would be coming his way. Hopefully his new bodyguards would be better at their job.

"Stay out of the way for a bit, Your Highness, while I take care of Feather, hmm?"

Kajan laughed. "That is a silly name for a horse."

Ramsay smiled and patted his horse affectionately. "Yes, I suppose it is, but he runs as light as a feather, even when I am on his back."

"Well, you're not very big," Kajan said, looking as though he were trying very hard to be nice, especially under the circumstances, but the truth was the truth.

Ramsay burst out laughing, leaning against his horse as he attempted to regain control of himself. He reached out to tousle Kajan's hair. "No, I am not very big. But I am fast and very tough, and I weigh more than you might think." He winked.

Kajan giggled.

Grinning, Ramsay finished ensuring Feather's comfort. Locking the stable door, he led the way out of the stable and across the way to his small, humble but sturdy cabin. Inside, he hung up his face and head wraps, then washed at the basin he always kept filled with fresh water. "Ah, that feels much better. I still am not used to the heat in your country, hmm? Where I come from, it is most often very cold. Would you like some tea?" He walked over to the stove, looking over his shoulder for an answer.

"Y-yes, please," Kajan said, looking suddenly uncertain.

Crossing back to Kajan, he knelt and hugged the prince tight. "It's okay, Kajan. We will get you home safe, I promise."

Kajan started crying again and hugged him so tightly that Ramsay struggled to breathe for a moment. "I want papa! I w-w-want to go home!"

"Shh, shh," Ramsay soothed, hugging him tight. "You will see your father again, Kajan. I promise."

Kajan just cried harder.

Ramsay drew back slightly and smiled. "Do you know what I used to be?" He smiled more brightly when Kajan only looked at him in confusion.

Standing, he crossed the room to his bed and drew out the small wooden chest he kept beneath it. Inside were the few precious objects he had taken when he left Tritacia behind forever. Picking out the small velvet jeweler's bag he wanted, he strode back to Kajan and knelt again.

Opening the bag, he dug out the only ring it contained. "Do you see this ring, Kajan?"

"No…" Kajan said, sniffling, tears drying as curiosity overtook fear.

"Once upon a time, it was my duty to protect a prince. I trained for it for a very long time—I was not much older than youare now, in fact. Every day for ten years I protected that prince. He is still alive and safe because I protected him. Once he was almost stolen, just like you. I stopped the men who tried to take him and got the prince safely home. That is what this ring means—that I am a guardian. What my people call a Holy Protector. I promise on my own life, Kajan, that I will get you safely home, all right? So you do not need to be afraid."

Kajan looked at the ring. "Papa has rings like this." He frowned. "But not like this too."

Ramsay smiled. It turned a bit sad as he looked at the ring himself. It was beautiful—made from white gold, set with a deep blue sapphire. Over the sapphire was more white gold molded into the royal flower of Tritacia. The ring of a Holy Protector.

He had given them so much, until they had taken the one thing he had begged them to protect for him while he guarded their prince. Then they had not even been sorry. He had raged and raged, all to nothing.

So he had buried his brother, dead at only eleven years. Then he had packed all that Feather could comfortably carry and boarded the first ship with room for man and horse. He had left Tritacia and the life of a Holy Protector behind forever.

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