The Decoy Princess (18 page)

He raised his tea to his lips with shaking hands. Hesitating, his face drained of what color it had. “You
are
an assassin,” he said, dropping the cup. Tea soaked into the ground. “I thought you were—who did you kill? Sweet mother of God. I helped you escape! They saw me! They’re going to come after me, now!”

“I’m not an assassin,” I asserted, depressed.

“Then what are you?” he demanded. He tried to raise his arm, becoming panicky when it didn’t move as well as it ought. “What did you do to me?” he cried.

Frustrated, I shouted, “Next time listen when I tell you to do something!”

He hesitated, then settled back on his blankets, showing a wary respect. I waited until I knew he was listening, then added, “My hairpins have poison on them. I’ve been conditioned to withstand it. One scratch usually won’t kill a person. Two will, unless you work hard to keep them breathing.” I recalled Jeck retaining enough control after two darts to talk. “Usually.”

“Only an assassin would be immune to poison,” he said, shivering.

I sighed as I gathered my thoughts. Perhaps he’d believe the truth now. “You were right, earlier,” I said in a flat voice. “Well, almost. I’m—” I took a breath, forcing the words out as my betrayal rose caustic and strong. “I’m the princess’s decoy, bought to shield her from backlash caused by that damned Red Moon Prophesy. I’m immune so as to extend my usefulness.”

And I’m stupid
, I thought bitterly. I should have seen it. No one risks the life of a princess to make her immune to poison.

And you don’t leave her upbringing to the chancellor, however well he keeps her occupied and prevents her from bothering the royal family.

I closed my eyes against the hurt. In that instant, I hated them. Hated them all: my father, my mother, Kavenlow, the princess I had unknowingly protected, all of them. When I opened my eyes, I found Duncan watching me with a mix of disbelief and mistrust. “Listen,” I said, deciding he needed to hear it all. If Jeck found him with me, he might be killed by association. “King Edmund’s second son, Garrett, is making a bid for Costenopolie’s land and ships. He could have had it all but in name had he bided his time and married the real princess at year’s end, but he wants it now. He took the palace and the outlying garrisons, and when the rest of his men get here, he’ll take the city, the harbor, and all the ships in it.”

Grief broke through, and I caught my breath. All I cared about and thought was true had died in the name of Garrett’s meaningless conquests. Nothing had arisen to replace what I once thought real. “Prince Garrett killed my parents,” I whispered. “After I find Kavenlow, I’m going back to kill Garrett.”

“You can’t kill a prince of Misdev,” Duncan whispered, his knuckles white where he gripped his blanket.

“I almost killed you,” I said, weary of everything.

“But it will start a war,” he protested, hunching into his blankets.

I dropped my gaze. “Kavenlow can stop it.”

“Kavenlow?” he questioned.

“The chancellor.” My face twisted as I struggled not to show my emotions. “He went to fetch the real princess. He’s the only one I have left—” My voice had risen to a squeak, and I cut my sentence short.

“He doesn’t know what happened,” I said flatly. “I have to find him.”

“You’re the Red Moon Princess?” he said, a hint of belief in his long face.

“Not since yesterday.” I said the words carefully, refusing to feel anything. My life had been ruined, and all for nothing. I glanced up at the branches and the clear skies beyond them.
Where is the rain? My
life can’t get any worse. It ought to be raining
.

Numb, I took a gulp of tea and set it aside. It was bitter. “Drink some tea to keep your heart strong through the night, and don’t even think about swallowing any of that vile ale of yours,” I said. Not caring if he had more questions, I lay down, wrapped in my cloak, and drew my last blanket over my head. I wanted to sleep, exchanging my reality for dreams if only for the span darkness ruled the sky.

Twelve

The light on the inside of my eyelids was a restful gray, not the bright glare I usually woke to. And I was cold. Confused, I tried to separate myself from my dream of shifting waves. I smelled horse, and the surprise of that, not the stick poking repeatedly into my shoulder, brought me fully awake.

My pulse leapt as I bolted upright. Duncan was crouched on the far side of the fire. The stick that had been poking me was in his grip. My hand dropped from my darts, and I clutched the prickly wool blanket to my neck. Sitting to curl my legs under me, I blinked at the man.

The dim light of morning made him look more unkempt than usual. He had a brown cloak over his shoulders that I hadn’t seen before, its hem black from use. “Morning,” he said as he dropped the stick and pushed the rim of his hat back. “I’m going to water the horses. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Thank you,” I said, then coughed at the coldness of the air. The birds were noisy, and I wondered how I had slept through them. Saying nothing, he rose and went to Tuck. He wasn’t using his right hand much as he coddled the gelding into taking the bit. “Can I… see your hand?” I asked.

He hesitated. Dropping Tuck’s lead, he eased down into a crouch beside me. Silently he pushed his shirt up to his elbow. I leaned close. His deeply tanned arm was still swollen, and the purple and red streaks across his palm and finger were downright ugly. Still having not said anything, he flexed his poison-bloated hand, wincing.

“Can you move your cards?” I asked, knowing he must have tried.

His eyes were fixed upon his shifting fingers. “No.”

It was flat and emotionless, and guilt made me drop my gaze. “It will get better, but your fingers might always be slow when you’re tired.” I hesitated. “Do you want some willow tea?”

“No.” Rising, he turned his back on me, sliding the bit into Pitch’s mouth with a practiced ease. The horse mouthed it noisily.

Shivering, I bent to tighten my bootlaces. I felt bad about what had happened, but at least he wouldn’t be following me anymore. “You’ll be heading inland, then?” I asked, not sure I was happy to see him go. I didn’t like being alone.

He turned, his nasty stubble unable to hide his surprise. “We aren’t going to Saltwood?”

“We?” I blinked up at him. “After last night? I nearly killed you!”

“Really…” Motions stiff with what I thought was pride, he set the saddle pad on Tuck, quickly followed by my saddle. He rubbed his right shoulder before cinching it as if noticing a general weakness there.

“There’s no reward for helping me,” I said. “Just take my saddle and go.” Miserable, I removed my needles and let down my hair. “I can find Kavenlow on my own,” I whispered as I set my black ribbon aside and forced a comb through my curls.

Duncan’s rough bark of laughter pulled my head up.
He was laughing at me ? The nerve
!

“Tess,” he said as he stood by Tuck’s head. “Let’s say you are the princess’s decoy and not a lunatic.” His eyes flicked to my darts beside me, then the whip on my waist. “You don’t owe that man anything. The king and queen bought you with the sole purpose of keeping their daughter alive. And you want to help her? Wake up,” he said bitterly. “Your dream is over.”

“They loved me,” I said hotly, surprised to find myself defending them, even though the same thought had filled my head for the last three days.

“They used you.” His narrow face was harsh. “Don’t you know how the story goes? The lost princess returns, saves the kingdom with the help of a goat boy, then marries her rescuer to live happily ever after. There’s no room for you! If you’re lucky they’ll banish you from the kingdom. If you’re not, they’ll tuck you away, and you’ll never see the outside of the palace walls again. You,” he said, his eyes fierce as he pointed at me, “should be running hard and fast. And I’m going to run with you until you go hungry long enough to realize it’s better to be well fed than spotlessly honest. You have a hard-won skill, Tess. And I’m not going to let you hide it under morals too expensive for commoners when we could be living like royalty in two years!”

Angry, I gritted my teeth and swung my length of hair in front of me. I tugged my comb through it, heedless of the sharp jolts of pain. “You think I should run away,” I said as I picked at a snarl in frustration. “From Garrett. From everything. He killed them right in front of me!”

My pulse hammered, and an upwelling surge of anger knotted my stomach. “He had my mother’s throat slit while I watched!” I exclaimed. “I couldn’t keep her blood inside her, Duncan! It’s still under my fingernails!” I held my hand up, almost screaming at him. “My father died to protect me! I promised I’d kill the murdering dog, and I will!”

My anger and grief poured through me, tightening my throat. I dropped my head as I realized I was almost in tears. Duncan stared, clearly shocked.

Catching myself, I dropped my head and bound my hair up off my neck. It was hard without Heather’s help, but I managed. Duncan silently finished with Tuck and put the riding pad on Pitch for me.

I brought out my venom and refilled the needle Duncan had darted himself with, adding it to the four in my topknot. I was cold, and I hated it. I hated everything.

“But it’s not your kingdom,” Duncan said, jerking my attention up. “Why do you care?”

My lips pressed together as I put the venom back into Kavenlow’s pouch and tied it shut. “I’ll sleep in a chu pit before I let Prince Garrett think he can have Costenopolie.”

His shoulders shifted in an audible sigh as stood beside Tuck’s head. “Tess, you’re a commoner. And there’s no shame in it. Let the royals bicker over what they will. It makes no difference who sits on the throne. You have to look out for yourself. No one else will.”

I said nothing, putting my eyes on the brightening sky showing behind the spring leaves.

The uneasy silence was heavy as he took up the horses’ leads. “I’ll bring some water back so you can wash,” he said, leading the horses away. “I have some soap—if you need it.”

At the mention of soap, my feeling of filth seemed to increase tenfold. It was more than the earth beneath my palms and the blood staining my nails. I miserably got to my feet as he left, feeling all the aches from yesterday come to life. Today ought to be a joy as I added to them.

I wondered at Duncan’s new respect. I didn’t think it came from me having nearly killed him, and I was sure it didn’t stem from a reverence for the crown—of which he had none. I was hoping it was born from a respect of me and me alone. It was something I found rarely enough among the fawning nobles, and I found my feelings toward him softening. After two days of fending for myself, his simple offer to get me water meant more to me than it should.

The sound of the horses in the brush faded. I gazed listlessly after them, wondering if Duncan was right and I should just keep running.

Numb, I folded my torch flowers into a cloth and tucked it in Kavenlow’s pouch before tying it to my belt. The stink of last night’s onions was thick on me, and when I took care of my morning ritual, I found my inner legs had a layer of grime on them from rubbing against Pitch yesterday. It had gone clear through my underthings.

“God help me,” I whispered as I dropped my skirts, wondering if there was anything clean in the world. Duncan’s water wasn’t going to touch the black mix of horse sweat and dirt.

There was a movement at the far end of the field, and I hurriedly checked that my skirts were in the right place. A sharp pinch in my shoulder brought my hand up, and I slapped it.

My hand hit not the expected insect but the smooth feel of wood. Heart in my throat, I plucked out a tiny wooden dart ringed with back.

I was found.

Panicked, I looked up. A black horse bolted from the trees and across the field. Hunched upon him was Jeck with his cloak flapping like Death himself.

“Duncan!” I shrieked, lunging into the woods. Hidden behind a tree, I fumbled for my dart pipe. I peeked past the oak, my face going cold as I loosed one, then another, to no effect. I fumbled for my whip, but the black monster of a horse was upon me. Gasping, I ran, stumbling as my will was faster than my feet.

“Duncan!” I cried as I spotted him. He was too far away. Branches snapped as the black horse came to a four-posted stop. “No!” I shrieked as an arm wrapped about my waist. I jammed a dart into Jeck.

Swearing, he dropped me, pulled the bone needle from his thick leather jerkin, and snapped it in two with a leather-gloved hand.

I hit the ground hard. Jeck followed me down. I held my last dart like a dagger as I tried to rise. Jeck caught me halfway up, grabbing the back of my neck so tight I yelped. His other hand went about my wrist, squeezing. My fingers opened. My last needle fell to the ground.

“Princess,” he growled, and I was flung like a sack of fish over the horse’s shoulders. “He-ya!” Jeck shouted as, with a lurch, he sprang onto the riding pad behind me. My stomach hurt. I struggled to breathe as the horse bolted.

“Let me go,” I panted. The vegetation was a blur as we raced down the trail. Taking a jolting breath, I kneed the horse. It squealed, rising up to almost spill us.

“Relax, Princess,” Jeck said as the horse’s feet hit the ground and we continued. “Can you fight a little less energetically?”

He sounded almost casual, infuriating me. “Let me go!” I shouted, bending awkwardly to punch him in the gut. The man grunted, but I hadn’t been able to put enough force behind the blow to do more than annoy him.

“Stop it,” he said. “You asked for this meeting, not me. Your trail was clear enough.”

Trail
? I thought, going limp in surprise and wheezing for breath. Kavenlow’s trail of leaves? Jeck knew what they were?

“So you’re Kavenlow’s apprentice,” Jeck was saying, confusing me further. “It’s a pleasure.”

Jeck knew Kavenlow
? I tilted my head, bouncing with the horse’s movements. Jeck was smiling behind his trim black beard. I felt his leg tense as he put the horse into a slower gait.

“I thought it was your servant girl, first, seeing as she had disappeared,” he said, his eyes on the trail back to the palace. “But only a player could escape the palace as quickly as you did. And no one but a player would have dart venom. Hard luck Kavenlow being sent on an errand just when he needed to be here. He must trust you if he is willing to let you speak for him. You’re being a shade paranoid, though.