The Decoy Princess (12 page)

My dear Tess,

That you have found this means I have taught you well. It saddens me I must
rely on ink and paper to convey how proud I am of you.

If you are climbing the walls to escape, I’m probably dead, and the stability of
the realm is in jeopardy. Flee if you deem it best for the short term, but
Costenopolie is now yours. I wish your game well. Whatever task the
sovereigns have given you upon the return of their princess, use it to further
your deception. I worked hard to keep the king and queen from knowing my
real intention for you. Be satisfied knowing that though royalty holds the
crown
, we
are the cunning and strength that keep the realm intact
.

You’ll never know the depth of my grief for my lies of omission, but I want you
to believe that you were
never
the king and queen’s. You were
mine,
and I loved
you as the child I couldn’t have. You are the daughter of my heart, the
inheritor of my skills
.

Your loving mentor,

Kavenlow

The tears started somewhere in the middle, and they ran down my face unchecked. My chest was tight with an unbearable weight.
How could you do this to me
? I thought desperately.
Just when I was
ready to hate you
? Choking back a sob, I stretched to put the note to the lamp flame and watch it burn.

No one would see his words but me. I didn’t understand all of what he meant, only that he loved me. I felt like Banner, howling at the wall as his source of strength slipped away, leaving him with an unheard promise to return.

I dropped my head as a handcart passed. Wiping my eyes with the back of a grimy hand, I numbly walked, heading downward to the docks and the inns. Kavenlow’s absence made the once-comforting streets seem fraught with a hidden menace. Garrett’s soldiers were absent, a situation I was sure would remedy itself tomorrow when they began searching the streets.

Much to my surprise, a good deal of the dock market was open as greedy merchants pandered to frightened people hoarding food and supplies. The lights were high, and so were the prices, but I wouldn’t have to wait until morning to outfit myself. First, though, I needed a quiet place to draw my scattered soul together and find a sense of purpose.

The dizziness had passed now that I wasn’t running, but exhaustion pulled at me as I angled for an inn set back two streets from the docks. It would probably be quieter. I glanced back at the palace before crossing the street. It glittered like a necklace in candlelight, high on the hill. My eyes closed in a pained blink, and I turned away.
They are dead. Both of them
.

Striving for an air of wealth rather than destitution, I resolutely smoothed my filthy dress and strode into the inn. The stagnant air smelled of overdone potatoes, but the low-ceilinged room was warm and almost empty. Three men were gaming at a table by the hearth. Another sat alone with a bowl, eating soup as carefully as if it were money to be counted. A surly tavern maid eyed me, but it was the man in a tattered cap leaning against the casks that I approached. A beggar would seek assistance from the tavern maid; a lady would demand it from the owner.

He gave me a once-over, the question clear in his eyes as to what a woman with good boots was doing alone with no coat, covered in filth, and her hair falling down about her shoulders. “I would like some supper,” I said, pronouncing my words carefully.

The innkeeper took a breath to speak, but a shrill voice coming through a dark archway shouted,

“Get her out! We aren’t the palace to feed the city’s laggards.”

I gave Kavenlow’s water-stained bag a subtle shake, sending the soft sound of sliding coins to him.

The man glanced at the archway. “Tend to yourself, woman!” he yelled. He was smiling when he turned back, his work-reddened cheeks split to show he was missing a tooth. “Running away from our husband now, are we, ma’am?”

I looked at the empty tables. “Supper?” I asked as I set two coins down, glad Kavenlow had insisted I handle the money when in the streets and so I knew how much was needed.

“Help yourself to what’s in the pot,” he said, nodding to the hearth behind me.

“I left so quickly,” I stammered, embarrassed, “I don’t have a bowl.”

Saying nothing, he leaned to reach behind a counter and pull out a wooden bowl and flat length of wood that might be considered a spoon—if one was desperate.

“She pays for that!” the unseen woman shouted, and the man’s shoulders hunched.

I took them, feeling ignorant. “Would it be possible to have a bath?” I asked.

“I ain’t doing any bath!” the woman exclaimed. The bar wench suddenly found something to do, vigorously scrubbing at a far table with her back to us.

I brought out two more coins. It was twice as much as I paid for dinner. My mother’s blood still stained my hands; I would give him the entire bag if needed. “Shut your mouth, woman!” the man yelled over his shoulder.

“I ain’t doing any bath!” she insisted.

“You’ll do a bath,” the man bellowed. “Shut yer mouth!” He turned to me, and I gritted my teeth to keep the tears from starting. “It’ll be a while. You want it in a room?”

Head down, I nodded, though I wasn’t planning to sleep in it, and he reached behind him to draw a tankard of dark liquid. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Take your pick of the rooms in back. The second one has a lock, ma’am.”

My face went cold. “Thank you,” I managed, a sick feeling thundering down upon me. I was so alone. There was no hidden escort, no friendly guard behind me. I was alone after sunset with a bag of money in a tavern two streets up from the docks, dressed in rags and covered in pig grease. The only thing that could make this worse was if it started to rain.

Knees feeling like wet rags, I crossed the room to a table near the hearth and sat with my back to the wall. I set the heavy tankard down, and with Kavenlow’s bag over my shoulder, I found the pot held a fish stew. The thought of eating was repellant, but having nearly passed out from hunger, I took some.

Eyes were on me. I didn’t like it. I’d never eaten by myself before.

The men turned away as I sat down. Slowly my fear eased, warmed away by the creamy soup. The spoon was hard to manipulate, and I felt like a fool as I struggled to keep anything on it. I found my appetite quickening—until I realized the gelatinous blob I was pushing around in my mouth in question was probably twin to the fish eye that was now staring up at me.

Gagging, I hunched over the bowl and spat it back out. My face was warm as I looked up, but no one seemed to have noticed. I stifled a shudder and pushed the bowl away, my gaze falling upon the old man eating. He didn’t seem to care that his soup was looking back at him, but I did.

The gaming table grew noisy, and my attention went to them as they played three rivers. The oldest man at the table was graying at the temples and had a kind, noble-looking face despite the weary slump that put him as a laborer of sorts. He was dressed simply but clean. A stick was tight between his teeth, and he shifted it from one side of his mouth to the other.

Closest to the hearth was a soft-spoken man, tight with both his money and opinions. He was dressed like a merchant with clean boots and a good cloak.

The last had his back to me. He wore a nondescript shirt and trousers of brown cloth. Unlike the other two, he had no beard, and his brown hair was cut severely short as the younger sentries like to keep it. His jests were quick, as was his speech, and he seemed to be winning a lot. I watched him pull a few coins to himself with pleasant, encouraging words to the others. His hands were too clean to be a laborer, and his clothes weren’t good enough for a merchant’s.
Soldier
? I thought, but dismissed it as his build—though nicely muscled and sturdy with a broad back and trim waist—was clearly used to casual exertion rather than the discipline of swinging a sword. He had a dagger, though, its outline showing at the top of his ragtag, thin-soled boots.

Then I saw him draw a card from his collar and replace it with one from his hand, disguising the action as a stretch. My breath hissed in. He was a cheat! That’s what he was!

Outraged, I felt my cheeks warm, then checked my upward motion.
What the chu pits was I doing
?

I was worried about a thieving cheat when my life was balanced between my quick feet and Garrett’s anger?

Chilled by the thought of Garrett’s soldiers, I pushed my bowl farther away and looked into my bag to estimate what I could purchase. There was enough for supplies but not a horse, too. They were expensive in a coastal city where the little fertile land was used for growing food for people. They would be even more costly with half the city surging through the gates.

How was I going to get a horse
? Worried, I took a sip from the tankard, almost choking at the acidic taste. It was near spoiled. God help me, this was the worst meal I’d ever not eaten.

I spat the ale back and frowned as the cheat laughed at something the merchant said. My gaze rose, lighting upon the money on the table. My eyes narrowed in speculation.

I could play cards. Kavenlow had taught me. As a rule, he cheated. The first time I caught him, I swore I’d never play against him again. He had laughed uproariously—which made me so angry I could have had him stuffed and turned into a rug— men changed the stakes. If I caught him cheating, I got his dessert. If he won without me spotting the deception, he got mine. It had been a very enjoyable winter.

The flash of pleasant memory died. Depressed, I wound a stray curl back around my topknot. I would find Kavenlow. But I needed a horse.

Leaving my uneaten soup, I rose with my tankard and bag and approached the table. The talk fell to nothing as the men looked up. I flushed for my forwardness; I hadn’t been introduced, but I didn’t think it mattered. “Three rivers?” I said. “May I join you?”

The silence grew uncomfortable. The merchant glanced at the innkeeper, and he shrugged. It was the cheat who broke the tableau by shoving a bench away from the table for me. I ignored it, my face warming. Immediately the merchant rose with a quickness undoubtedly born from pandering to customers. The other two men got to their feet as well.

“Let me help you, madam,” the merchant said, taking my tankard and setting it on the table before assisting me onto the rough bench with a practiced ease. “My name is Trevor.”

“Thank you, Trevor,” I said, breathing easier now that someone had finally said something. I eyed him speculatively as I adjusted my filthy dress. “I believe I have visited your shop on high street. You sell threads and cords, yes?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a smile. He didn’t recognize me, and for the first time all night, I appreciated the fact.

“Collin,” the second man said. His stick shifted between his teeth as he sat back down.

The cheat had hardly risen from his bench and was already back to shuffling the cards. “Ma’am,” he said, giving me no name, and I nodded at him.

“I’m…” I hesitated, not knowing what to call myself. “I find I’m in need of a distraction tonight, with all the excitement in the streets. What version are you playing?”

As one, the men relaxed. “Stones dam the river,” the cheat said, sliding a card to me. “Forest blocks the sun.”

I nodded. I’d played that. Pulling an appropriate coin from the bag atop my lap, I set it in the center of the table with the rest. I took up the cards and bit my lower lip. Play circled from me to the cheat, exactly how I wanted it. If I couldn’t win what I needed, I could blackmail the cheat into losing to me.

That is, if I could catch him cheating and show him I could prove it.

There would be two circles of the table, each of us trading cards with a visible waste pile or the unseen remainder of the deck. At the end, each could fold and lose their coin, or throw in another to buy the chance to win it all. The strongest hand won. It was a simple game.

We played our first turns in silence. My dislike of the quiet prompted me to turn to the merchant, the most refined of the three. “Trevor,” I said, eyes watering as I pretended to sip the awful ale. “You sell that marvelous thread made by insects, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.” He discarded a sword card into the up-facing pile. “I don’t think I will be selling much silk for a time. I would be wise to shift my inventory from domestics to the thicker cords that can be used in ropes for warships, but I have yet to find a supplier.”

“Warships!” I said, my surprise genuine. How could he have even guessed such a thing? It had only been this morning that Garrett began his bid for my lands.

“Rumors,” Collin growled around the stick between his teeth. “Costenopolie won’t go to war over a damned-fool marriage.”

I blinked. But my unease went unnoticed as the merchant took up his tankard and said, “No, but the Misdev dogs might. May they rot in hell.”

With loud agreements, the other two men raised their drinks in salute. All three took a draught, slamming their tankards onto the table with undue force. I watched Collin in fascination as he didn’t have to take the stick from his mouth to manage the lip of the cup.

“You deal in cords and string?” Collin questioned as he picked up the merchant’s discarded sword card and put down a red pawn. “I make twine for nets.”

The two exchanged shrewd looks as I chose an unseen card. Anything was better than the pawn I discarded. It was a black stone, useless with the cards I had, but I kept it, casting aside a valuable queen.

I had three reasons for giving it away. One, it would imply I had an excellent hand and perhaps I could bluff my way to winning. Two, if I was right, the cheat would take it, squirreling it away for future use. Or three, it would lead the table to believe I was a simpleton. Any of the results would be favorable. My heart gave a pound as the cheat hesitated for the barest moment before picking up it up.