My fingers shook as I forced the gag back into place, but then I paused. “You won’t tell anyone who I am?” I breathed into her ear.
She shook her head once and I saw truth in her eyes.
I yanked the gag back out and threw it on the ground. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you, Alexa,” Tanoori said softly.
I turned and grabbed the torch, leaving her in darkness, then rushed out of the cell as fast as I could. I had to get out of there. Away from the heat, the sweat, the smell, the fear that filled my mouth with the bitter taste of copper. The door slammed shut behind me and I shouted for Jaerom.
“All done?” he drawled as he sauntered down the corridor.
“Got what I could out of her.” I twisted my head, making my neck crack. “How do you stand this heat?”
“Get used to it eventually, I guess, just like all the others stuck down here in hell.” The lock ground back into place, sealing Tanoori in to await her fate, and me out to try and erase what she’d said to me.
“Right.” I strode back toward the stairs, desperate to get away, though I tried to look as nonchalant as possible, hoping Jaerom didn’t notice how flushed I was, how my pulse raced against the skin of my neck. I doused the torch in a bucket near his desk and set it back on the pile.
“See you soon, Little Boss.” Jaerom called after me as I rushed back up the stairs, away from the fear of discovery, from the tantalizing thought of finishing what Tanoori started — of finishing this war. How many times had I dreamed of that very thing? But after two years in the army and one in the prince’s guard, I didn’t think anyone had that power anymore.
It was impossible. She was deranged. Killing the prince would only infuriate King Hector even more. He’d already lost his elder son; Prince Damian was his sole direct heir. And Tanoori’s hint made no sense. Follow the river? The key could be found in the Heart of the Rivers? There were rivers all over the place. We lived in a jungle. No, I wouldn’t even consider it. My duty was to my prince, whether I liked him or not. Whether I believed in his father’s war or not.
Finally, I emerged onto the main floor of the palace. A window was open nearby, carrying the scent of the jungle. The smell of green things and flowers and soil and rain. Thick clouds, bruised the color of dark wine, rushed across the sky toward us, carrying lightning and rain. The growl of thunder was a distant threat, menacing but still soft.
Some said that Blevon, King Osgand’s kingdom, was dry and filled with peaks and canyons because he was cursed. They said a powerful sorcerer made the water sink deep into the earth, so they had to dig for it, just to stay alive. Papa had always said that wasn’t true, and I secretly agreed with him. Off to my right was the breeding house, which I avoided walking past at all costs. As I watched two of the king’s guards come out the door, laughing raucously, I had a hard time believing anyone could be more deserving of a curse than King Hector, and our land was verdant and full of water.
I had to stop, turn away, and press my fist to my belly to keep at bay the nausea that welled up into my throat, threatening to make me vomit as I thought of little Kalen in there somewhere, dreading the time when her monthly courses came and the attic was no longer safe for her. Across the courtyard, boys barely old enough to lift a sword were sparring, forced to join the army and die for a war that had no end in sight.
Avenging his wife’s death had sounded like a noble cause in the beginning, but after so much death, so much rape and horror and atrocity enacted in the name of helping Antion win the war, I couldn’t help but hate my own king as much as the enemy’s. No matter the outcome, there would be no true victors.
Tanoori’s words echoed in my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut. If there was a way to end this war — to stop King Hector — did I have the courage to try?
THAT NIGHT, RYLAN carried a cot into Damian’s outer chamber for me. Thunder rumbled through the palace as rain pelted the stone walls, echoing off the roof above us. The air was taut with the charged heat of the storm.
“Where do you want it, Alex?”
I pointed. “Just set it down next to his door. Hopefully, that will be close enough to appease Iker.” I couldn’t quite keep the irritation from my voice. I’d stood at attention outside Prince Damian’s door for hours, with no sound from within to give me any hint as to his activities, lightning and thunder my only companions.
The long silence had given me far too much time to think about Marcel and Tanoori. About my life before the army came into our village and took Marcel and me away. About the difference between training to fight and the reality of actually killing someone.
Or watching someone you love die.
The pain of Marcel’s loss washed over me and I stared at the cot, willing myself not to lose control. I balled my hands into fists, tried to hold back the sudden, consuming grief.
And soon Tanoori would die as well.
“Alex?” Rylan’s voice was concerned.
I clenched my jaw and, through sheer willpower, forced the emotion away. The tightness beneath the cage of my ribs receded enough to allow me to breathe without gasping and I looked up at him. “I can’t talk about it.”
He nodded and turned away, allowing me to pull myself together. “Do you need anything else?”
Taking a deep breath, I glanced around. The room was bare of anything I needed to wash with or prepare for bed. But that brought up the question of how I was to accomplish my toiletries without revealing myself. If anyone walked in while I was bathing — or if Prince Damian came out of his room …
“No,” I finally replied. I’d ring for a maid to bring me a bowl of water and a cloth. That would have to suffice.
He started to walk away, but I called out. “Rylan?”
Pausing, he looked back.
“The prisoner I questioned earlier … I haven’t been told. When have they scheduled her execution?”
“I haven’t heard, either. I’ll find out and let you know.”
“Thank you.”
Rylan looked at me for a moment longer, as though he wanted to say something more. Our eyes met and locked. For a moment, I wondered what would happen if he knew. If he stood across from me right now, knowing that I was a girl who had just lost her brother and been forced to move into the prince’s chambers — would he take me in his arms and wipe away the tears I’d been choking back all day?
My neck growing hot, I barked out, “That’s all, Rylan. What are you standing around staring at me for?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head slightly, a strange look crossing his face. Before I could try to guess his thoughts, he turned and walked out.
I exhaled sharply when the door shut and I sat down heavily on the cot. Marcel’s death was too much to handle. It was making me vulnerable, revealing the secret I’d spent years trying to cover up. I had to pull it together. I couldn’t allow myself to stare at Rylan like that ever again. My only hope was that he’d chalk it up to exhaustion and grief. He seemed concerned. He obviously knew I was more upset than I let on.
“Ah, my favorite guard, ready to do my every bidding.”
The prince’s voice startled me and I jumped up to attention again. “Your Highness, I apologize for my inattentiveness.” I bowed deeply, hoping he didn’t notice the wetness on my cheeks. How did he get the door open without a sound? And what did he mean by his “favorite guard”?
“Alex, rise and quit apologizing. As this is now your bedroom, I understand that you won’t be standing at attention at all times. Unless your strength and training extend even to the ability to resist sleep?”
I stood up and pressed my fist to my heart. Prince Damian was dressed only in pants, boots, and a loose-fitting white tunic, unlaced so that the top of his chest was exposed. A chest that was more muscular than I would have expected, considering the depths of his laziness. I’d never once seen him exercise or train with any sort of weapon. He did ride fairly often, but that wouldn’t have made a difference in his upper body. The
analytical side of my mind wondered what he could possibly be doing — and when — to create muscle like that. As a member of his personal guard, I was unsettled to think that I didn’t know. But the other side of me — the feminine side — had to crush a sudden rush of butterflies in my stomach.
“Do you need anything, Your Highness?”
“Alex, I believe I’ve told you before that you need not address me so formally all the time. Especially now that we’re practically bedmates.” He gave me a sardonic look, one eyebrow lifted. I could have sworn he was suppressing a smirk.
My cheeks felt flushed, and I prayed that my olive skin hid my blush. A boy wouldn’t blush at that comment, would he? “Sir, I would never presume to treat you with any disrespect.”
Prince Damian sighed and passed a hand over his face. “Of course not. One must always treat the prince with the utmost deference.” He sounded frustrated — almost disappointed. After the last two days, I wasn’t sure it was just an act anymore, as I’d always believed.
Trying to hide my confusion, I asked, “What might I assist you with, sir?”
He turned and narrowed his gaze at me. “You seem like someone I can trust. Second only to the captain of my guard, a dedicated person, completely entrenched in duty.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. My heart beat faster beneath my ribs at the look on his face.
“If someone should happen to bring me a letter, I wish you to bring it straight to me. Do not open it or alert Nolen to its existence. Can I trust you with this?”
“Yes, sir,” I said again, more confused than ever. A secret letter? That’s why he came out to talk to me?
“Excellent.” The prince paused. “I want to trust you, Alex. I hope that I am making a good decision by asking this of you.” His eyes were piercing on mine, sending a sudden rush of heat through my limbs. “I’ve been told my whole life to trust no one. As a prince and heir to the throne, I’m to assume that everyone is an enemy. Do you think that is wise counsel? Do you think it foolish of me to put my trust in you?”
Why did he insist on asking me such questions? He’d never made an effort to win me over before. Was this some sort of new game? To play on the emotions of the guard who just lost her — his — brother?
“I hope that you will find your trust to be well placed in me, sir,” I finally replied, the back of my neck hot.
“That’s not a very firm answer.” He took a step closer to me.
I had to tilt my head back a tiny bit to look up into his face. It made me feel far too much like a girl. “Yes, sir. You can trust me.”
“Do you have many friends, Alex?”
“Friends, sir?”
“Someone to talk to or laugh with. Perhaps someone you can confide all your secrets in.” He lifted one eyebrow. Though he sounded flippant, there was a serious glint in his eyes that made my throat go dry.
“I had my brother, sir.”
“But now he’s gone.”
“Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“So you’re friendless. Alone.”
A strange, panicky feeling overcame me. I didn’t understand what he was doing — what he wanted. “I have the other members of the guard, Your Highness.”
Prince Damian was silent for a long moment. “Of course you do. I apologize for prying into your personal business.”
Our eyes met and held and suddenly I wondered the same thing — did he have any friends? Or was he, too, all alone? I’d been guarding him for a year, and I’d never even thought about it before. My cheeks grew warm with shame.
Damian took a step back, his expression unreadable. “I should let you rest. But first, would you please ring the maid for some clotted cream and berries? I find myself craving something sweet tonight after all the stress of this day.”
“Of course, sir.”
He nodded, then turned on his heel, strode into the inner chamber of his rooms, and shut the door. I stared at it for a long time, my mind racing my heart.
When the maid brought up the requested food, she also brought me a bowl of water, a cloth, and a clean tunic. I set the supplies for myself on the floor next to the cot and picked up the bowl of cream and fruit for the prince. Acai berries, such a deep blue they were almost purple, and sliced papaya and mango filled the bowl. Their juices ran down over the cream, staining it and making my mouth water. When I knocked softly, he called out, “Enter.”
I pushed open the door and entered his room. The fireplace was dark and empty; it was too hot for a fire. Candles flickered from multiple candelabras around the room, making the shadows stretch and sway, chasing the orange light of the flames.
“You may set it on the desk. Thank you, Alex.”
I walked quickly across the room and did as the prince asked. When I turned, he stood by his bed, shirtless, his chest and arms coated with a fine sheen of sweat. His extremely well-muscled chest and arms. His stomach was flat and chiseled. He was as strong as any of the men on his guard, perhaps even more so than most. In the warm light of the candles, Prince Damian was almost painfully handsome. I suddenly felt too hot. Like all the heat in the room had surged into my body, coalescing deep in my belly. Lightning flashed, filling the room with bright white light, making me flinch.
“Was there anything else?”
My eyes widened when I realized I’d been staring at his body. My cheeks flamed, making me grateful for the low light of the candles. “Sir, you’re covered in sweat. Are you taking ill?” I asked, keeping my voice low and gruff. Manly. It was as good a cover as I could come up with. No one looked like that unless they exercised — a lot.
“I’m in perfect health.” He shot me a wicked grin. “As you may have noticed.”
My mouth went dry and my face burned even hotter. But before I could think of any other ways to dig myself into a deeper hole of humiliation, he continued, “You may go, Alex.”
I bowed briefly and strode out of the room, my body on fire with embarrassment — and curiosity. There was definitely more to Prince Damian than I’d realized. But I was beginning to worry that he had realized there was more to me, as well.
I’D BARELY FALLEN into a restless sleep on the cot when I heard someone creeping across the room. I stayed frozen but opened my eyes, my fingers going to the dagger I kept strapped to my thigh, even at night.
The person was small, and clutched in one hand was a rectangle of paper.
I let go of the dagger, leaving it in its sheath, and sat up in bed. The intruder stepped toward me, holding out an envelope. In the darkness, I was pretty sure it was a young boy, maybe nine or ten at most. Silently, I took the letter. As soon as I held it, he turned and dashed toward a tapestry hanging behind Nolen’s desk, his bare feet soundless on the stone floor. He lifted it up, there was a slight creak, and then he was gone, the tapestry swinging back into place.
That explained why the guards outside hadn’t been alerted to his presence. A secret passageway was hidden in this room. One I didn’t know about. I stood up and crossed the floor as silently as the boy. When I lifted the tapestry, there was no sign of a door. The wall was paneled in wood. I slid my hands along the beams, searching for a knot or button, a lever, something to indicate how the boy had come and gone so easily. I couldn’t find anything.
Frustrated and angry, I sat down on the chair behind Nolen’s desk. How was I supposed to protect the prince if I didn’t even know all the ways an attacker could have access to him? Why had I never been told of this before?
I looked down at the letter. There was no writing on the outside, and it wasn’t very thick. What could it possibly contain that warranted being delivered in the dead of night so secretively? I clutched the sealed parchment tightly, wondering if there were any way for me to open it without the prince knowing.
No. I gave him my word. I hadn’t lied when I said I was trustworthy.
Standing up with a sigh, I crossed the room and knocked softly on Prince Damian’s door. There was no response. I knocked again, slightly
louder this time. Still nothing. Would I risk his wrath if I entered without permission? He seemed pretty intent on no one else finding out about the letter.
The door opened silently and I slipped into the darkened room. The storm had passed on, leaving the smell of rain and the sticky heat of humidity in its wake.
I hadn’t thought to put on boots before entering. In fact, all I wore was a long white nightshirt over the pants I’d had on the day before. I didn’t dare sleep without pants anymore, and I’d left my breasts bound beneath the shirt. Still, without my usual vest, someone might notice the cloth wrapped around my chest — if he looked closely. I halted, trying to decide what to do.
Then Prince Damian cried out.
My first instinct was to protect him. Yanking my dagger from my thigh, I sprang forward, rushing to his side. The bedclothes were twisted around his body and legs, and his forehead had a sheen of sweat across it, his dark hair in complete disarray. He grimaced and his head jerked to the side, but he was still asleep. He mumbled something, so quietly I couldn’t quite make out what — possibly a name. His voice sounded … pained.
Prince Damian was having a nightmare. A bad one, from the way he looked and how he continued to jerk and thrash in his bed. I held my dagger in one hand, the letter in the other, and stared at him. Should I wake him up? Or put the letter on his table and leave? I had the sudden urge to reach out and brush his hair from his forehead, to let my hand trail down his cheek. To calm his thrashing with my touch.
He was still shirtless, and I wasn’t able to resist drinking in the sight of his body unabashedly now that he couldn’t catch me staring. I’d seen plenty of men shirtless after living in the army and then earning a position on the guard. But this was different for some reason. He was so beautiful, even in the midst of a nightmare. I’d reasoned away my original attraction to him when I joined his guard, told myself that he was arrogant, spoiled, rotten. But what if he wasn’t as bad as I thought — what if it was some sort of strange act?