The Decoy Princess (14 page)

Read The Decoy Princess Online

Authors: Dawn Cook

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Historical

BOOK: The Decoy Princess
7.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

At least my boots were my own, and the gray cloak bumping about my ankles was fresh from the loom. Even better, I again had a whip coiled in supple loops and fastened to my waist. It was eight beautiful feet of leave-me-alone, and it gave me more confidence than I deserved. No knife, though.

Clean steel of any length and strength was nearly as expensive as a horse.

I had been to two other liveries already. If I didn’t find a horse here, I wouldn’t have time for my bath and find a mount both. And leaving without a horse with the hope to buy it from a fellow traveler wasn’t a promising proposition.

“Come back tomorrow,” the man said as he shuffled to the wide doors. “I’ve got a few at pasture.

Seems horses are in demand now. Damned wedding has everyone jumpy.”

The last was muttered darkly, and I reached out after him. “Wait. Please?” I said, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of my whip. I clutched my cloak closer, hiding it. “What about one of those?”

I stepped from the ring of light his lamp made to where two magnificent black horses—a perfectly matched mare and a gelding—stood sleepy and nodding.

His brow was furrowed, his mind clearly on my whip and not the horses. “Ah—you can’t have those,” he said. “They belong to someone in the palace. A gift for the princess.”

I took a breath to explain, then let it out in frustration as I gazed at my beautiful horses I couldn’t have. He wouldn’t believe me. Probably take me to the palace gates as moonstruck. Lips pursed, I went to the last stall. “What’s wrong with this one?” I said, surprised to see a child curled up in the corner, almost under the mare’s feet. Her body was thin from growing too fast, covered by a grimy, too-short dress. I couldn’t tell how long her hair was as it was a mat of tangles and straw, and her toes were black with filth.

The man leaned over the edge of the short wall. His gaze fell upon her, then rose to the horse. “Can’t sell you Dirt.” His voice was oddly flat.

“Why not?” The brown mare looked sturdy, though a little short. Almost a large pony. My irritation tightened, knowing in a seller’s market, he could demand almost anything. When he didn’t answer, I entered the stall. The mare’s whiskers tickled my palm when she dropped her head to greet me. “Is she yours?”

“Bought her this spring,” he admitted, clearly not pleased I was in with her.

Good
, I thought. It was a matter of finding the right price, and I was going to make sure it was one I could pay. I ran my fingers down the mare’s leg and lifted a hoof. Kavenlow had taught me to ride, insisting being able to choose a good horse was as important as being able to keep your seat in a jump.

Letting the man stew for a bit, I looked her over. “There’s talk of war in the streets,” I said calmly as I patted the mare’s shoulder. “You can sell her to me tonight or give her to the palace when they assemble their cavalry troops in the morning.”

“Costenopolie doesn’t have a mounted army,” the stableman said quickly.

“I imagine they are going to need lots of horses, then—aren’t they?”

The man looked like a trained bear as he shifted from foot to foot. The girl woke, and I scraped up a smile to soothe her frightened stare. She couldn’t be more than thirteen, gawky with adolescence. I’d been enamored of horses at that age, though I’d never been allowed to sleep with them. “She has a cracked hoof,” I said, trying to keep the price reasonable, “and is out of condition. I’m willing to pay you a good price, regardless.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “You can’t,” she cried, scrambling up. “You won’t!”

“Shut yer mouth!” the stableman bellowed, and I, the girl, and all the horses jumped. “I’ll sell the worthless thing if I want!” He turned to me with a smile. “You leaving tonight?”

I hadn’t liked him shouting, and I nodded curtly. My curiosity took on a tinge of confusion as he beckoned me out into the small stable yard. Giving the mare a pat, I latched the stall shut behind me and followed him to where he waited just outside. He leaned close enough for me to smell the sour pork he had eaten tonight, and I backed away. “If it were just the horse, ma’am,” he said, “I’d sell her to you and be done with it. But it’s the girl.”

My eyebrows rose, and I glanced behind me into the lit stables.

“I bought the horse after her family died in a fire,” he continued. “It used to belong to them, and she won’t leave the mare. Screams as if the devil himself were after her if you try. She won’t stay with the folks that took her in and gave her work, either. They quit coming to fetch her, seeing as she’s old enough to be on her own. If I sell the mare to you, she’s going to follow you sure as chu pits stink. She’s a wicked thing, but I get too much work out of her to let her go for nothing. Maybe if you added a little something…”

My face warmed. He had himself a slave. I recalled her haunted eyes watching me from her narrow face. She was what I would have been had Kavenlow not bought me: a beggar beholden to filth like this man for everything she had.

Kavenlow had kept me from such misery as this
, I thought, unable to be angry with him. He had lied to me, but his love had been true. I had to find him before a Misdev soldier did. And though it would complicate my life immeasurably, I couldn’t leave this girl here to accept whatever this man forced on her. Right now, her grime protected her. That might change if he ever got drunk and found her. “I’ll take both,” I said, praying I had enough.

“She’ll make a fine servant, ma’am,” he said, his eyes fixed on the money I was stacking on a fencepost. “She jest need a good whipping. I can’t bear to beat a woman. But seeing as you are one…”

His grin turned ugly. “She’d make a fine lady a good servant,” he repeated, his eyes dropping to the coil of leather on my hip.

She wouldn’t, and I fought to keep from sneering that he would pander to me like that. The man was vile. I’d known such commerce took place in my streets. God save me, I was one of the commodities. I would make it clear to the girl that I bought her freedom, not her. “I want the girl, her horse, and the tack for it,” I said, disgusted as I gave him everything but a few coins.

“Done,” he said greedily as he snatched them up in a thick-fingered hand.

We spun at the sound of hooves. “Look out!” the stableman shouted, stumbling back as the brown mare clattered into the yard. The girl clung to the horse’s back like a brown shadow. “Addie!” he cried as the mare took the low fence. “Come back here. Wretched girl!” He ran to the street’s edge, coming to a frustrated halt. Dogs barked, and a candle flickered as a curtain was pulled aside. I stood in shock as my horse ran into the dark and was gone. “Addie!” he shouted again. He turned to me, anger hunching his shoulders. “I’ll get her ma’am,” he all but growled. “I’ll get her and tan her hide so well she won’t be able to go horseback for a fortnight.”

“My horse,” I said, outraged. “You let her steal my horse! Is this why you’re the only one in the city with horses to sell? How many times have you done this tonight?”

The man’s face went ashen in the light spilling from the barn. “No, ma’am!” he cried. “She run off on her own. Ask anyone; I’m an honest man!” He took a step to the gate, then turned back again.

“Wait—wait here,” he said, his words seeming to stumble over themselves. “I’ll get your horse. She couldn’t have run far.”

My eyes narrowed as he jogged to the street. He turned and gestured for me to stay, then lumbered into the dark. Dogs barked at his shouts, and I stared in disbelief at the empty street. He had my money.

I had no horse. I had to leave. Now.

Not knowing what else to do, I went into the stables to pick out my saddle. There wasn’t a sidesaddle, but I could ride astride. Kavenlow had insisted I learn, despite the stares of the stable-boys.

Worried, I sat on a bale of straw and tugged my dress hem down. The gelding flicked his ears back and then up, clearly not sure whether he liked me or not. “That girl is halfway to the forest by now,” I said aloud, and his ears stayed pricked.

I frowned with a sudden thought. I had paid for a horse, its tack, and a girl, much as the idea revolted me. It wasn’t my fault he had allowed all but the tack to run out the barn door and into the night. The horse I bought wasn’t coming back. I had every right to take one of these. After all, they were intended for me.

Making soft noises, I entered the mare’s stall and made friends with her. I liked the more flashy gelding, but the mare would have more endurance. “Why shouldn’t I take you?” I whispered, my fingers arranging the silky strands of her mane. “You’re my horse. That I haven’t been presented with you yet is a formality. He should be thankful I paid for you at all.”

I flushed in shame for what I was going to do as I got the saddle and pad and tightened the cinch. The mare tossed her head as the weight of them hit her back. She looked as eager as I was to leave. Her stablemate stamped and blew; he knew he was being left behind.

My expectation that the man would come bursting back in at any moment kept my pulse hammering.

Guilt made me choose the bridle in most need of repair, and I slipped the bit in between her teeth. The bag of belongings I had purchased went into a tattered saddlebag I found. I hadn’t exactly arranged to purchase it, but I was stealing a horse; the bag was incidental.

Fingers trembling, I turned the oil flame down and led my mare out into the yard. The noise of her hooves was loud, and I cringed. I had paid for a horse. I was taking one. My gaze roved over the empty yard, listening for the stableman. Nothing. I couldn’t wait. I had to go.

I gazed up at the stars, unseen behind the smoke of a hundred fires. Asking for forgiveness, I swung up into the saddle. Pitch— as I decided to call her—shifted a step, then settled as I adjusted my new cloak to best cover my legs.

“She’s my horse to take. I’m not a thief,” I said as I shifted my weight and sent Pitch into the street.

But somehow I couldn’t seem to still the small, nagging voice that said I was.

Ten

I pulled my cloak, tighter about my shoulders, relishing the clean smell of the wool and glad for its warmth as the cold slipped in from the bay to fill the town. Having decided careening through the streets on a galloping horse was a sure way to attract attention, I was again on foot. Slow and hypnotically relaxing, the noise of Pitch plodding behind me at the end of her lead echoed against the buildings. I was sensing alarm in the few knots of people huddled under the puddles of flickering light, and I wondered what the rumors had shifted to.

I warily eyed a group arguing as I passed. The street traffic had dropped off with an alarming suddenness, but the people who were left were noisy. “Lady Black Sheep,” a masculine voice called sarcastically, and my breath seemed to freeze in me. A shadow pulled itself away from the lamp. Chu pits, it was the cheat. I looked up at the hazy heavens, wondering why it wasn’t raining. Everything else seemed to be going wrong.

He angled away from the small group, a gray horse trailing behind him. My hand plucked a dart from my topknot and I field it hidden in my palm. I wondered if I should risk making a scene by darting him or if there were enough people about that I could tolerate his presence. I decided on the latter but kept the dart where it was.

“Sir Cheat,” I said tightly as he came even with me. His horse wore a patched riding pad instead of a saddle. A bedroll and pack were tied behind it, filthy with use.

“My name isn’t cheat. It’s Duncan.”

“I don’t care,” I said, eying the street. Pitch made greeting noises and accepted the gray gelding in the easygoing manner of equines. I, however, wasn’t pleased.

“Look… lady,” he said, “and I’m being generous with the title. I have to talk to you.”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t owe you anything. Go away.”

“Hey,” he said. “Hold up.” He matched his pace to mine. “Ah, no one has caught me cheating since I was fourteen.”

“Congratulations.” My eyes were on the next pool of light. Perhaps I should have tolerated the innkeeper’s son after all.

“Will you listen to me?”

He grabbed my arm, stopping me. Shocked, I tugged away from him. “Don’t touch me!” I said, feeling my face go hot. Angry, I continued on, my pace quick and stilted. If he grabbed me again, I was going to drop him where he stood.

The cheat took a breath and surged after me. “All right, but listen. What you did in the inn was incredible. I’ve never built up such a stockpile of cards before. Not that fast. You fed them to me,” he said, sounding grudgingly impressed. “Offered distractions so I could move them. And you did it so you could blackmail me into giving the winnings to you.”

“What if I did?” I said, not proud of myself.

“Don’t be such a snot,” he said, and I stifled the urge to slap him. “I’m not mad. Not anymore, anyway. It was as beautiful a bit of trickery as I’ve ever seen. You took the table’s money and kept your lily-white hands spotless.”

“Must be my breeding showing,” I muttered. Why was he still here? I had made it obvious I wanted him to go.

“Will you stop?” he demanded. “We can do far better together than we can alone.”

My feet halted, and I stared at him. He thought I was a thief. He wanted us to work together? “I am not a thief!” I said loudly, and he pursed his lips in bother and glanced over the empty street.

“Of course you’re not,” he said, with a hurried quickness, eyes still roving. “Neither am I. I’m a cheat, and I only take from those who can afford it.”

“Oh,” I said dryly. “A noble cheat. That makes it so-o-o-o much better.”

Duncan didn’t seem bothered by my scorn, actually touching the brim of his dirty hat. Angel’s Spit, was there nothing clean outside the palace? “So what do you say, Lady Black Sheep? Shall we find a quiet table and have a quiet conversation?”

“No,” I said sharply. “I’m not interested in your paltry little schemes…” I hesitated. “What did you say your name was?”

“Duncan.”

“… Duncan,” I said, gripping Pitch’s lead tight. “I want to leave the city, not fleece it.”

“Good idea. Leaving, I mean.” He lurched into motion as I strode briskly forward. “This damned betrothal has everyone jumpy. But you’ve got a star-shining play with your act of fallen wealth to soften their guard, little girl. Pit that with my skills at cards, and the excess coinage we could alleviate is incalculable.”

Other books

The Storyspinner by Becky Wallace
Among School Children by Tracy Kidder
Vimana by Mainak Dhar
Ghost Soldier by Elaine Marie Alphin
Escapology by Ren Warom
Harvest Moon by Helena Shaw
On Set by London, Billy
Nobody's Son by Shae Connor