Princess at Sea (43 page)

For Duncan,
I thought, trying to shield my desperation from them. I had to do this for Duncan, or he would be killed. I would have nothing. No game, no sister, no life with Duncan. Nothing.

Gritting my teeth and pressing my eyes tight to keep the tears from leaking out, I pushed aside my feelings of right and wrong, wrapping my will about Kavenlow's slippery, gray-ghost thoughts. This was wrong. I didn't want to do it.

Sundown,
I thought.
The wagon goes at sundown. The men slip out with the morning crush and wait until noon to move.

“That's right,” Kavenlow said, his confusion wavering. He hesitated, and I felt his certainty strengthen. “Why did I think we needed to move that close so soon? And waiting until noon will give us more men back in the capital to choose from.”

Jeck said nothing, and a tear made a warm trail down my face. I left their thoughts with a rush, floundering and holding my breath until I reclaimed the feelings that were only mine. I was loathsome and unclean. I was the filth scraped off the boats and left in the chu pits to rot in the sun. It had saved Duncan's life, and it was the most awful thing I had ever done.

“Sunset,” Jeck said slowly. “Where's that list of men back in the capital already.”

I'm so sorry, Kavenlow,
I thought, taking a shuddering breath and holding it.
Please forgive me.

I opened my eyes, wiping them on the back of my hand. Jeck and Kavenlow were just as I had last seen them. Kavenlow shuffled through the stack of papers that had come in with the latest reports of rumors from the city. “Here,” he said, leaning close with a list of names. “If you have the land force, you'll want Jamie and Turlo. They grew up in Saltwood. They might even have an idea of where the pirates are holed up.”

It was done. Shoulders hunched, I stood, wavering on my feet. Neither man looked up as I used the residual magic resonating in me to keep them from noticing me. It was easy as I was still sensitized to their individual thoughts. Hunched in heartache and dizzy from the venom, I walked slowly from the hall, working to keep my steps soft.

For the first time in my life, I had used my magic to deceive.
It will be the last,
I vowed as I made my uncertain way to the stables. But what could Kavenlow do to me for my deception? Cast me out? Make me leave him? He was going to do that anyway.

“One more, yet, Tess,” Thadd said, pushing a heavy satchel
onto the wagon bed and snuggling it up to the other three. The rare spice in their tight chests shifted closer to me, sending the exotic scent to tickle my nose.

I nodded, keeping my head lowered as I stood beside the driver's bench. In honor of my subterfuge, I was wearing a worn dress that was too small and dingy with grime. I had worn it while retaking my palace last spring—having to hide it from Heather so she wouldn't burn it—and I would wear it again to rescue my sister. I had been recognized at the gate looking much worse, but I'd wanted to be identified. This time, I didn't.

Thadd walked away, his slow ponderous pace and short stature keeping him unnoticed amid the bustle of men at the stables preparing for their departure in the predawn dusk. The young sculptor was fraught with worry, his shoulders tense and expression downcast, and I watched Contessa's first love with a heavy heart.

He had grown up with Contessa, and they had planned a simple life together before her world changed, and she went from foundling to princess in a day. Thadd loved her desperately, following her halfway across the kingdom to keep her safe from dangers he had no chance to protect her against, then showing his bravery further by changing his life to try to keep a place in hers. The simple but honest man was hurting more than anyone, and no one seemed to care as his status of “queen's advisor” was one politely ignored and often gossiped about. Depressed, I turned away, pulling Penelope's shawl tighter about my shoulders, and tried to stay unnoticed.

My fingers tingled with magic, and my cold nose itched with it. It ran through me in a thin, ever-present threat that was almost not there. No one would see me unless I drew attention to myself, but still, it made me nervous. The sun was almost up, and I was anxious to be away. I hadn't had but a catnap of sleep, and breakfast had been a roll I had stolen from the baskets brought out to feed the soldiers who had responded to the 'ware fire lit in the highest tower last night and returned. Between my lack of sleep and my worry that Kavenlow or Jeck would remember that the wagon was supposed to go out at sunup not sundown, I was anxious and nauseous.

Easing into motion, I crept back into the livery for my last horse. I'd spent the night there hiding from Kavenlow. I couldn't bear to look him in the face. I had broken his trust. I had lied and manipulated his thoughts. I didn't know if I would ever be able to make amends. He would never trust me again.
Not that it mattered.

The smell of horse and leather brought a lump into my throat, reminding me of him. It was eerily quiet since most of the mounts were gone or in the yard. I went unhesitatingly to the last of the three mares that I had picked out hours ago. Fingers stiff from the morning cold, I saddled the remaining soft gray with a riding pad, leaving the cinch somewhat loose. Her bridle was already in the wagon with the rest, hidden in a rough sack smelling of fish. I draped a rude blanket over the riding pad, knowing it was a thin disguise but trusting my magic to keep me and my three horses unremarked upon. They would carry my sister, Alex, and me home.

I would have taken Duncan's horse as well in the hopes of finding him, but the gray gelding was gone, commandeered by the searching soldiers. It had been by luck and magic that these three and the one hitched to the wagon had been “overlooked.”

Backing the last mare out into the aisle, I longingly thought of Jy and Pitch. Jeck had told me they had been moved to one of the slower warships before he struck out on the burned
Sandpiper.
The warships were still searching—unaware that we were back at the capital—and though I was glad my horses were safe, I missed them.

My eyes rose to the wagon when I came out from the gloom of the stables and into the chill light of the coming dawn. Thadd had loaded the last bag of coin and was sitting atop the driver's bench, his head bowed and patiently waiting with the reins in his thick hands, scarred from his profession. My shoulders slumped and my mood turned despondent. I said nothing while I tied the mare to the back of the wagon with the other two. He thought he was going.

Feet slow and reluctant, I came around to the front of the wagon. His strong jaw was clenched, as if he already knew what I was going to say. “Thadd,” I said tiredly, and he turned to me, his brown eyes showing a hint of panic.

“I'm going.”

It was soft, but heavy with determination, making me feel worse. He held out a hand, and I took it so he could help me onto the wagon. His grip was warm as he hauled me up, but I could feel the worry in it, the fear I would make him stay. I glanced behind me at the unwatching men before I sat beside him, knees together with my cold hands between them. It was a very unprincess-like position, but I looked like a street urchin and was cold. My well-made boots poked from under my ratty hem, and I pulled them under my skirt to hide them.
God, please help me find the words to tell him.
“Thadd—”

“I love her and I'm going,” he repeated, the desperation he had been trying to hide creeping into his slow, methodical voice. Thadd was a big, heavy man, but his heart was as pure and fragile as new ice. His lovingly made plans with Contessa had vanished like a dream hiding between wakefulness and sleep.

Miserable, I looked at the light shining on the highest of the palace towers. It had turned the milky stone to a flaming red.
Red sun in morning, sailors take warning
. . . I thought, refusing to believe in superstitions. I had to go. I had to leave now. I didn't have time for this, but he, of all people, would come out of this the most wounded, no matter how it turned out. He loved her, but there was more here I had to address than his simply wanting to help rescue her.

“I know you love her,” I finally said.

His feet shifted at the unsaid “however” in my voice, drawing my gaze to his boots. They were new, a gift from Contessa, along with whatever else he needed for his work and livelihood. I knew he had only accepted them so that people wouldn't stare and whisper at his bare feet inside the palace. He was a country artisan, and the last link Contessa had to her free, unfettered childhood.

“I need to be there,” he insisted, a hint of panic in his serious brown eyes.

“And I need to have you here,” I said. “In about three hours, Kavenlow or Captain Jeck will be looking for me, trying to make sure I don't go out with them and foul up their plans. You're going to have to tell them that I'm sulking in the garden.”

“I love her, and I won't stay here and do nothing. Don't ask me to do that, Tess!”

It was a determined statement, and a lump came into my throat. I understood. I understood too well. “Please, Thadd,” I whispered. “They said only one person. It has to be me. If you come, too, they'll assume treachery. I'm giving them exactly what they want so they have no excuse to hurt her. I lied to Kavenlow and betrayed his trust to keep her safe. If you come with me, it will endanger her.”

His breath trembled. Thick, powerful hands shook as he gripped the reins. Worry creased his face, making him look twice his age. “Does she love him?” he asked. Surprised, I stared blankly until he rubbed his forehead, and added, “Alex. Does she love him?”

My heart seemed to clench. I didn't want to be the one to talk to him about this, but no one else would. I had a brief thought that this was the softer, but far more difficult side to being a player—manipulating people for a greater good they couldn't see. I consoled myself in that I would be telling him this even if it didn't fall within the span of the game, that the unfortunate tie between Contessa and Thadd had to be sundered or their entire lives would be tainted as polite society labeled their love with guilt and shame. But it didn't make me feel any better.

“I—I think she would love him . . . in time,” I whispered, unable to look at him. “If she wasn't already in love with you. But she loves you, Thadd,” I said, instilling my voice with a pained worry. “She won't abandon you for him. I know it.”
And she needs to,
I thought, unable to say it. It was so unfair to him. God help us, it was so unfair.

Thadd dropped his head so that his long bangs hid his eyes. “That's what I thought.”

“Thadd?” Worried that he might finally understand, I reached out. But he pushed the reins stiff with cold into my grip, and wood creaked as he swung down. Never looking back, he walked away, his head down and his back hunched. A soldier almost ran into him, the young guard's apology seemingly unheard as Thadd never shifted his slow, ponderous pace or acknowledged him.

Pained in my soul, I bit my lip and watched until the milling sentries came between us, and I lost sight of him. Thadd was suffering more than he let on: having already endured the heartache of seeing his love wed to another, knowing there would be a legal heir someday—and all that went along with that.

A sigh slipped from me. There was nothing I could do. We all had our own puntas to slay. And saying a quick pain was better than a long slow ache was a lie. It all hurt. They all left scars.

Turning to face the unseen sun, I pushed my feelings away and clicked my tongue to get the horse moving. It rocked into motion, and with my fingers tingling with magic, I trundled the clapboard wagon holding a kingdom's ransom unhindered through the palace gates and into the city streets when the gates opened to allow more returning soldiers entry.

The morning wind seemed to swell in the harbor to fill the streets with noise as I passed the palace walls and became lost among my people. The wind chattering in my head rose and fell in some private thought the zephyr didn't care to share with me, and I pushed it down, refusing to let it gain a foothold. Though it was early, the streets were noisy with merchants readying their wares, some doing a brisk business in the gray light. There was an unusual tension everywhere, words sharp and tempers quick.

I joined the steady stream of nervous people headed for the main gate. The snatches of conversation I caught revolved about the royal couple, and the frequent hails and questions shouted to the returning men in Costenopolie uniform had me on edge. There was worry, but no fear in them. A hard readiness, but no revenge. I had been right to tell them the truth.

My pulse quickened when I neared the manned exit, but I was let through without hindrance. The three horses trailing behind me earned a few curious glances and nothing more. The air freshened when I passed the gates and continued on straight down the seldom-used path toward Saltwood. Most of the outgoing people had turned north to the interior: carts and wagons, people with bundles on their backs. More people pushed past me, eager to get in and looking for news. The rising sun hit my face but gave very little warmth. The morning fog had risen, and, shivering, I sent my gaze down to the harbor.