The Decoy Princess (11 page)

Beyond them was the moonless night. The door was open to let the heat of the kitchen escape. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or insulted they thought I was so little a threat. My gaze flicked from the door to them. It was so close, I could smell the dew.

The soldier-turned-cook spun to show a satisfied smile on his round face. “Leave your grubby hands off,” he said sharply, looking far happier in his new position of cook than I would have expected. He held a pan under a squab and basted it. “Them’s for the prince.”

“Aw he ain’t gonna miss a leg,” the other said, leaning close with his Angers twitching. “You said he spilled his guts like a pregnant woman.”

“You touch ‘em, and I’ll cut your burning fingers off!” the cook threatened as he turned to set the basting pan aside. “I want them pretty, not torn apart.”

As I expected, the second man reached for the birds. Their backs were to me. I bolted to the door, shocked when a new wave of dizziness shook me. Muscles suddenly shaking, I skittered around the archway and put my back to the outside wall. My shoulders tensed as the cook shouted, then I slumped when I realized he was yelling at his companion.

Out
, I thought as their argument grew louder. I had made it. Fingers gripping the cold stone I was pressed against, I listened to my heart pound, panting while the unreal feeling began to pass. The sensation was akin to having accidentally pricked myself on one of my darts, and I put my fingertips in my mouth, looking for the telltale bitter bite of venom. There was only the taste of ash. The dizziness must be from my hunger. I hadn’t eaten all day.

The air was cold, and I shivered in my thin dress. Gaining the garden had been very much like my games of hide-and-seek as a child. Easier, almost, as it was night. It had generally come as a surprise whenever Kavenlow woke me from a sound sleep and bundled me off to a remote corner of the palace, announcing to all at breakfast that the first to find me got my dessert that night. I had usually spent all day skulking through the palace to reach Kavenlow’s safe tree, pilfering my lunch from the kitchen or gardens as I went.

The working-class children who were my playmates were always delighted, since my hide-and-seek took precedence over their usual chores. Sentries replaced them when I was older, and Kavenlow got a lot of resistance until he told the captain it was good practice ferreting out assassins for his men. It had been then that my delight in the game blossomed into almost an obsession as I outsmarted the very men set to keep me safe.
But this time
, I thought as my smile of remembrance faltered,
if I’m caught, I
won’t forfeit my dessert, I’ll forfeit my life
.

Taking a steadying breath, I tucked my last dart back into my topknot and crouched. The sound of approaching voices jolted me into motion, and I slid into the kitchen’s outdoor firepit. Pushing up on the heavy oak cover, I slid it half over me. The sharp smell of ash and burned fat was an assault, and I kept my breathing shallow to keep from coughing. The pit was still warm from last night’s dinner. Shifting uneasily in the defunct coals, I poked my head above ground level to see a pair of sentries.

They were halfheartedly beating the bushes with the flat of their swords as they complained loudly of their interrupted dinner and how this was a waste of time because I was probably crying at the back of a closet. If all of Garrett’s men were this inexperienced, I’d have a chance. Even the stableboy had known the value of stealth while playing hide-and-seek.

The two passed. Feeling tense and ill, I waited until their voices vanished before I eased out of the pit.

I stank of burned fat, and a dark stain of grease smeared my elbow. I was a mess.

Taking a steadying breath, I checked for lights and ran to a small grove of trees, skidding to a halt among them. The gray of my dress mixed with the shadows. Moonrise would be in a few hours; I had to be over the wall by then. Breathlessly I waited for any sound of pursuit. There was none.

Jittery and nervous, I gathered my skirts to keep them from snagging and eased through the small grove. Almost lost against the black sky was my goal: the only tree in the garden whose branches reached over the palace walls. It was Kavenlow’s safe tree, and I frowned, realizing he had taught me the many paths to reach the one way out using games and diversions.

Lights and noise pulled my gaze up. My pulse quickened. They were far enough away for me to move, but not for long. I glanced the other way, then ran for a dull shimmer of rocks.

My breath came in time with my soft footfalls on the damp grass. I slowed to a hunched crawl as my boots scraped on the loose scree. The pile of rock was from a stone arbor, left where it had fallen after I had said it made a grand place for snakes and butterflies to overwinter.

Dropping down, I felt for the small depression I had scratched out nearly a decade ago. It was too shallow to provide much cover now that I was twice as big, and I felt exposed, crouched beside the rocks. They were warm yet from the sun, and I pressed against them.

The sound of a dog cheerfully barking seemed to freeze my heart. “Banner,” I whispered in dismay, recognizing him. They had loosed the dogs to find me. And they would, wagging their tails and licking my face.

“Down. Down!” a sentry shouted, hardly a boy by the sound of it.

Please, no
, I thought desperately, knowing if I moved Banner would find me all the sooner. I peered over the rocks to see a distant light. My hope sank as a sudden pacing and heavy breath came out of the dark.

“Dog!” I heard a deeper voice call, and the distant torch bobbed. “Whatcha find, dog?”

The large wolfhound stood poised, listening. His tail began to wag. I sank miserably down as he made a beeline to me from across the open space, leaving the sentries behind. His wet nose pushed into my hand, and he licked the grease from my elbow. “Go away,” I hissed, but he wanted to play. “Bad dog!” I whispered, and his swinging tail faltered. He whined, his paws as big as my hand almost pushing me over as he wanted to know what he had done wrong.

“Oh, you’re a good dog,” I said in dismay, fondling his ears as I forgave the massive animal. “Good dog.” Wishing he would be still, I peeked over the rocks. The lights were closer. I looked to the wall, then back. I couldn’t run with him, and if I stayed, they’d find me.

“Dog!” the guard called, and Banner’s ears pricked. He didn’t move. It gave me an idea.

“Down,” I said, and the large dog dropped, his eyes catching the faint light as he waited expectantly. I grabbed his bearded muzzle and brought it close to my face to remind him I was the leader of his pack.

“Stay,” I whispered. “Stay.” He watched as I backed up, his tail swishing uncertainly. “Stay.”

Stomach churning, I crept through the boulders until they gave way to pebbles and finally grass. I prayed Banner would do as told as I ran to a shack hidden behind a bank of roses. The scent of decaying weeds was thick. I circled the gardener’s hut until I could see the palace wall and my tree. A shadow hiding a glint of steel shifted beside it. My eyes closed in despair. Leaning against the very tree I had to climb was a sentry.

A shout pulled my eyes open. They’d found Banner. Everything was falling apart!

“Here he is,” one called to the other. “Here, dog.”

“What’s he got?” the second asked.

“Nothing. Come on, dog. Up. Up!” There was a pause, then, “He won’t get up. Hey you. Move!”

My eyes widened at the sudden yelp. “Fool dog!” the guard yelled. “Get up!”

“Good boy,” I whispered, cringing as Banner yelped again. The shadow beside my tree moved. I watched, not believing, as the sentry left his post to see what was going on. A young, inexperienced guard, indeed.

“Hit him with your sword,” a deeper voice said. “Get him moving.” The sentry at the wall started to jog, passing me in a creak of leather. That easily, I was beyond their perimeter.

Cursing myself as a coward, I ran to the tree. Banner cried out in hurt, and the warmth of tears filled my eyes. He should have left, run to his kennel. Stupid dog. Why had he listened to me? But he stayed, his loyalty buying me time.

My hand touched the smooth bark, and I reached for a limb. Skirts catching, I levered myself up to the first branch. The bark scraped my palms, and dizziness washed through me, setting my arms shaking.

There was a yelp of pain, and a stab of helplessness took me. “Good boy,” I whispered as I went higher.

I was a coward, running away while he was beaten.

Muscles protesting from lack of food, I finally reached the limb paralleling the top of the wall.

Banner’s cries turned angry. Tears pulled at me, and I risked a glance at the three lights circling him.

More were converging on them.

The guards had begun to bait him, urging him to attack. One called out to kill him as they would never get a monster like him back in his pen. Hating myself, I turned my back on Banner, standing upright upon a wide branch. Banner’s barks grew savage as I inched forward, arms out for balance. Tears flowed, unchecked. He trusted me, and I was abandoning him. I couldn’t explain to him why.

The branch turned before coming close enough to the wall for me to jump, but another limb continued over my head, actually passing over the wall. Standing on tiptoe, I grasped it, closing my eyes to steady myself. Hunger sapped my strength; fear and worry made me dizzy. My feet left the branch, and I inched my way forward one hand width at a time. Banner’s barks cut off in a heartrending cry of pain.

“Banner, just run away,” I sobbed, my grip threatening to slip. The branch thinned. The soldiers cheered, and heartache gripped me. They had cut him. I was sure of it.

Another handhold, and I froze at the whine at the foot of the tree.
Banner! He was alive
! Then my heart sank. He had come to see what he had done wrong. They’d follow him!

My arms trembled as the guards rattled closer. Panicking, I lurched forward another handhold. I looked to see the shimmer of the wall under me. My fingers found a smooth strip of leather. It was the strap of a bag hanging in a thick tangle of branches. Yanking it from its hiding spot, I dropped the few feet to the wall to land in an unsteady crouch. My muscles trembled from overuse and cold. I felt as if I might pass out, dizzy and unreal.

“Thank you, Banner,” I whispered, tears clouding my sight. “You’re a
good boy
. Now, run!”

I slipped over the side of the wall and fell into nothing.

Eight

I hit the ground hard, rolling into the street. A wagon was approaching, black and slow with a single torch. Favoring my ankle, I tucked back off the road and into the shadow of the wall. My pulse hammered. A long howl came from behind the wall, and my eyes closed in heartache. “Run, Banner,” I whispered, hating myself. “Just run away.”

I was out. It hardly seemed to matter. I lowered my head as the wagon passed, heavy with people and household belongings. Suddenly I was aware I was filthy, smeared with bark, grease, and dew. I’d never been past the walls alone before, and I felt naked without…

“Kavenlow,” I said savagely aloud.
This is his fault
, I thought as I sat and massaged my ankle while the wagon creaked by. Kavenlow should have told me. I could have done something had I known. I had been so shaken by learning of my true birth that I blinded myself to Garrett. I’d seen his frustration at being a second son and his pride demanding he take a kingdom for himself. It had been there. I had ignored it, wallowing in self-pity. And now my parents were dead. Because of me.

“Footsore already, love?” rasped a voice.

My breath hissed in. An old woman with a cloth bag was standing before me. I hadn’t heard her approach because of her bare feet. “Beg your pardon?” I stammered, frightened.

“Footsore? Aren’t you going? I’m going. Misdev soldiers thick in the streets,” she mumbled over bad teeth. “Then suddenly, not a one. And Costenopolie men going to the palace and none coming to replace them? I don’t like it. No, I don’t.”

I stood up, gingerly putting weight upon my foot until I was sure it would hold me. There were no cries coming from behind the wall, but I had to move. The leather bag in my grip was water-stained and old. I could hear the sound of sliding coins inside.

“And that poor woman,” the lady said as I edged away. “Shouting at the gate, demanding she be let in, and the guards pushing her down. That’s not Costenopolie men. No, it isn’t.”

Heather
! I thought. “Is she all right?” I asked, stepping close. “Did they hurt her?”

The woman squinted. “I don’t know. But I’m leaving. You should, too.”

A wet cough spun me around. “Go home, Mabel,” a thin man said. Holding a cloak tight to him, he crossed the torchlit street to join us. “The lights are up in the palace because of the Misdev prince. Don’t be filling her head with your old-woman fantasies. It’s wedding plans.”

“Ha!” the old woman barked. “Then why did you pack your leaky old rowboat?”

“It never hurts to be prepared, I say.”

I backed away from them, a false smile on my face. I didn’t think they realized I was gone as they continued their discussion, each assertion louder and laced with more fond insults than the last. One thing was clear. The city was emptying. Somehow the people knew something was wrong, and fear had started an exodus. That was fortunate. I could get lost in a crowd, slip past the gates with the rest. I needed a horse, a cloak, food… I needed money.

Remembering the jingle of coins, I struggled with the knot holding the bag closed. A well-dressed couple passed me with what looked like all their belongings on a tidy cart. Two children were asleep in the back. I tried to hide the grease on my dress as the woman eyed me with contempt. Cheeks flaming, I went to the nearest light to look in the bag.

There was money, enough for a decent trip into the streets. My eyes widened as I recognized the bitter smell of Kavenlow’s venom, and I wasn’t surprised to find a small capped jar, the white crust helping to seal it. There was also a handful of unadorned darts tied with a purple ribbon. A quick taste assured me they were potent, and I added several to my topknot in relief. It wasn’t until I was replacing the bundle of unused darts that I found the folded paper tucked at the bottom of the bag. It was from Kavenlow, and my brow furrowed in anger.