The Decoy Princess (16 page)

“Where to?” he said, looking very pleased with himself as he sat tall in my saddle. “Saltwood is the only thing in this direction, and finding a fisherman willing to risk a coin on cards is like finding a virgin in a brothel.” He hesitated, his face lost in shadow. “There’re the sailors, though. They don’t have much money, but they’re free with it. That might be a good place to start. Work out the tack we’re going to play out before we hit the bigger towns.” He hesitated, looking down at me. “You gonna walk the whole way?”

I led Pitch to a fallen tree and scrambled up the best I could. Duncan’s eyes widened as he saw me with my feet to either side of the animal. He opened his mouth, then looked away as I flushed and pulled my cloak to cover my legs. I sniffed, trying to make it as haughty as I could. “Keep the saddle. I’m not working with you,” I said, nudging Pitch into motion.

“No, no, no, my pretty thief,” he said as he pulled even with me. “You owe me. And I want to know how you spotted me moving my cards. If you caught me, someone else could.”

“I’m not a thief,” I said, wondering if I dare try to outrun him in the dark. I’d never ridden without a saddle. The movement of muscles under me was odd, and not entirely uncomfortable.

Duncan’s words caught at me, reminding me who I really was. Within hours of losing my crown I had shown my true birth, becoming a thief with frightening ease. The princess had taken everything from me. I was nothing, thanks to her.

I felt the warmth of tears and held my breath, refusing to cry. I had to find Kavenlow. He was all I had left. He would know who I was.

Eleven

I rubbed at my neck, in time with Pitch’s motion as I watched the flight of birds winging their way to their evening roosts. The mat of needles and dead leaves muffled the sound of hooves. This far out, the path was a thin ribbon, but it was still clear where it ran, circling the rocky places and running beside narrow, deeply cut streams until a good crossing was to be had.

We had passed only a few people today, on foot and slow with their belongings. They had been frightened and unwilling to talk. It seemed my unrelenting pace had put us ahead of the crush, though, and we hadn’t seen anyone since noon. Duncan had said nothing about traveling deep into the night yesterday; I had waited until almost dawn before collapsing by the road like the beggar I was. He probably thought I was trying to leave him behind. He’d be right. The man was sticking tighter to me than a burr, and I had resigned myself to his presence. At least until I found Kavenlow and the chancellor paid him off and “encouraged” him to leave.

Pitch stumbled, and I winced when my cramped knees flamed at the jolt. I was hungry, exhausted, and the pain from riding too long was almost unbearable. But I’d sling chu in the careen pits before I said anything to Duncan. I’d stopped several times today to shift my legs, blaming the halts on checking Pitch’s feet for nonexistent stones or watering her. Duncan seemed obnoxiously fine, perched on my saddle and probably used to the travel.

I brushed a wisp of curl out of my eyes and tucked it behind an ear. The continual jarring had loosened my topknot, and as I wound my hair back up for the uncountable time today, I spotted a maple leaf impaled upon a stripped twig. Kavenlow had put it there. I had been following his markers since sunup—though Duncan didn’t know it—Kavenlow’s modified garden game of hide-and-seek paying off in an unusual way.

The way the branch that held the marker was growing showed direction. The height of the leaf told me he was on a horse. An upside down leaf would tell me he had lingered and moved on, or camped in this case. We had just passed one like that. Despite my pace, I was almost a full day behind him. I’d never catch him before Garrett’s assassin did. But Kavenlow had kept me alive for two decades. I had to believe he could survive one Misdev guard.

I’d been watching the markers closely for his path to leave the trail and strike out southwest.

Saltwood was a harbor town, and though it would be faster by nearly several days to cross the large bay between us and the mountaintop called Bird Island than to go around it, Kavenlow hated the water and would most likely take the longer way.

The thought that I should have tried to free a garrison instead of chasing after Kavenlow flitted through me, quickly dismissed. It would precipitate an armed attack, ending scores of lives, soldier and commoner alike. Garrett was the only one I wanted to kill, and with Kavenlow’s political skills to convince King Edmund his death was justified, that’s what I’d do.

I shivered in the chill of the coming evening. The sun was behind the trees, and it was growing dark.

We were passing beside an open field, gray in the low light, and after flicking a bothered glance behind me at Duncan, I angled off the path and into it.

“Stopping already?” he said. “You went till almost dawn yesterday. What about the hundred men following you?” he mocked. “Seeing as you stole your own horse and all.”

“I didn’t steal Pitch,” I said tightly. “I paid for her.”

“And that’s why I had to sneak you out, yes?”

My breath quickened, but I tried to ignore him. There wouldn’t be a hundred men hunting me. There would be one: Jeck Depressed, I shifted my weight, and Pitch obediently halted. My feet hit the ground, and pain almost buckled my knees. Clutching at the riding pad, I breathed slow and shallow. “I’m camping there,” I said, pointing to the edge of the field.

Duncan swung from his horse—I’d found out today he had named the gelding Tuck. Both of them reached for a tuft of grass, the cheat contenting himself with a single stem, the horse taking a mouthful.

“That’s a god-awful place to camp,” he said around the stalk of green. “If you want to sleep on soft ground that’s going to leave your blanket wet again, fine, but I’ll be over there.” He gestured to a crumbling rock face that looked as appealing as sleeping in a dog’s kennel. “The fire’s warmth will be reflected by the rock, and it will be drier.”

I was too tired to try to disguise my ignorance. “You’re right. I’ll get wood for a fire.”

“I don’t suppose you know how to start one, do you, Lady Black Sheep?”

The arrogant mockery in his voice pushed me beyond my tolerance. Jaw clenched in a flash of anger, I flicked the bone knife from my waistband and sent it spinning across the space between us. His horse shied as it thunked into the tree next to him. “My name is Tess! Use it!”

Duncan blinked at the hilt of the knife quivering a foot away from him. “Uh, sure, Tess,” he said, reaching to wiggle it free from the wood soft with spring sap. My anger took on a healthy dose of exasperation when avarice joined his surprise as he looked it over. “Hey, I’ve never seen a knife like this.

What is it? Bone?” He grinned. “Find it lying about, did we?”

Insulted, I snapped, “I bought it.”

“Just like your horse?” he challenged, eyebrows high. “All right. How much, then?”

My lips pursed. “For more than you’ll ever have to lose,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t believe me if I told him I bought it with my crown. Literally, it seemed. I was embarrassed for having lost my temper. He was still turning it over in his hands, and the thought crossed me for the first time that he might not be willing to give it back. Worried, I hobbled closer and extended my hand. Eyes distant in thought, Duncan gave it back, and I tucked it away.

Making an “uh-huh” of disbelief, he led Tuck off the path to the rock face. Slow and pained, I followed, trying to keep my limping as unobtrusive as possible. My left leg had gone sluggish as it did when I was tired, and I tried to hide its hesitancy.

Seeming unconcerned that Tuck would wander, Duncan took my saddle off his horse and gave the gray a fond slap on the rump, letting him graze as he wanted. I collapsed beside the black circle of a past fire, thinking longingly of the bath I’d paid for but never used.

“Get up,” Duncan said, pushing the toe of his soft boot into my ribs. “You’ll go stiff.”

“Stop it,” I said irritably. “I’ll get the wood in a moment.”

He squatted beside me and brushed my dress up to my knees. Shocked, I bolted upright. “What the chu pits are you doing?” I shouted, jerking my leg out of his hand.

“Rubbing the life back into your knees. Even a blind man could see they hurt.”

Again, he reached out. Appalled, I drew back and kicked him square in the chest.

Duncan fell backward. His rump hit the earth, and his breath whooshed out. My pulse pounded. I scrambled up, my fingers tingling as I fought to keep from reaching for my darts.

“What the devil is wrong with you?” he gasped from the ground, his fingers splayed over his chest as he struggled to breathe. There was a wet print of my boot on his lower chest.

“Don’t touch me!” I demanded, face tight. He was a grasping lowlife of a man. How dare he presume I wanted his hands on me?
Even if I had. Once. By mistake.

Duncan staggered to his feet. His face was red, and his eyes were watering. “You ungrateful brat!” he exclaimed, hunched into himself. “I was trying to help.”

“You’re a filthy liar. And don’t you
ever
raise your voice to me again!”

Still red-faced, Duncan made a sarcastic bow, sweeping his raggedy hat off and running it along the dirt. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

My face went cold and my anger shifted to alarm. “What did you call me?”

“Princess,” he mocked, his eyes bitter as they dared me to throw my knife at him again. “That’s what you seem to think you are: talking in that fool accent, checking your hair six times a day, unable to show an ounce of gratitude for someone who helps you. Your act may work on half-drunk merchants and fisherman, but I know who you are.” He pointed, and my breath caught. “You’re a cheat and a thief, no better than me, so bury your airs and shovel chu like the rest of us!”

“A thief and a cheat,” I said, hearing my voice shake. “And if you touch me again, you’ll find out if I’m an assassin, too.”

He pulled his narrow face into a smirk, thinking I was making an idle threat. Tugging his water sack from his pack, he affected a mien of indifference. “I’ll find the water,” he said over his shoulder as he swaggered into the brush.

Full of a flustered anger, I removed Pitch’s tack and rubbed her down. The horse arched her neck and nickered at my overly aggressive touch, leaving to join Tuck before I was done. Eying Duncan’s pack suspiciously, I arranged my things to claim some space. Knowing the horses wouldn’t likely stray from a meadow surrounded by trees, I left to search out some wood.

My knees felt like embers as I struck out across the field in the opposite way Duncan had gone.

Slowly my muscles loosened, the pain almost feeling good. Firewood was only one of my goals. What I really wanted were the flowers from the stand of torch plants growing in the field where the sun shone most of the day. It was too early in the season, but I gathered the spent blossoms from last year’s tall spikes lying flat on the ground. When dried and powered, the yellow flowers made a tea to ease pain and act as a mild sedative. It wouldn’t help me tonight, though, and so after putting what I gathered in Kavenlow’s small bag tied to my waist, I went to search out a willow.

I found one in a rill that was probably dry in high summer, cutting several twigs and a good portion of me underbark. Working my way back to camp gathering deadwood, I vigorously chewed a sap-rich twig, thinking of the man in the inn.

My cloak snagged on a briar at the edge of the meadow, jerking me to a halt. Dropping my wood in exasperation, I worked to free it, hesitating when done. I was exhausted, and breathing in the evening-cooled air, I looked over the meadow. Last year’s dead vegetation was already dew-wet and purple in the graying dusk, and there was a definite chill in the air. No rain, though, and I was thankful for small favors.

My face went slack when I realized the field was empty.

“Where are the horses?” I whispered. “Duncan?” I cried, not seeing him. Then I went cold. “He took them,” I breathed.

Wood forgotten, I ran to camp, fear making me feel unreal and disconnected.
Had he played me like
one of his marks? Following me until he could steal everything
? Not a day from the city, and I lose everything. I was such the fool!

I skidded to a heart-pounding halt by the rock face. My things were where I’d left them. He hadn’t robbed me. But the question still remained as to where the horses were.

“Hey! Here!” came a faint call. I spun to find Duncan emerging from under the far trees. He was leading Tuck; Pitch followed obediently behind. “I found good water,” Duncan said when he was close enough. He slipped the rope from Tuck and shooed the horses into the field. Looking up at my silence, his face darkened. “I’m a cheat, not a thief,” he said hotly.

“Can you blame me?” I all but shouted. “I come back to find you and the horses gone. I don’t know you from a hole in the ground. You should have told me you were taking them!”

Duncan coiled up his rope and tossed it at his pack. “Get off your pedestal, Princess. I’m sorry if I scared you. I was only watering them.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said, my heart beginning to slow. “And you didn’t scare me.”

“I think I did.” He crossed his ankles and sat down in a smooth motion. His eyes were amused, watching me from under his tatty hat. An emblem had been torn from it, and I wondered where he had gotten it. Taking up a stick, he peeled the bark from it for kindling. “You look like that net maker with that stick stuck between your teeth.”

Aghast, I stiffened. “It’s to ease my soreness,” I accused, refusing to throw it away. “I’m not accustomed to riding without a saddle.”

“I can tell. It won’t be long before you are, though. You smell like a horse already.”

My jaw dropped.
The gall of him
! I stared, not knowing what to do. Feeling six times more filthy, I sat down across the fire from him and took up a stone to pound my willow bark with. “Better that than the chu pit you smell like,” I belatedly muttered.

“I think it’s an improvement,” he said. “Better than that soapy smell you had before. And I like the smudge of pollen on your nose.”