The Decoy Princess (19 page)

Dragging me out here to talk settlements? The tower would have been fine.”

I took a grateful breath of air as the horse’s pace eased. What was he talking about? He knew I wasn’t the princess and would have nothing to do with making treaties. “Let me up,” I demanded, feeling my face redden from being upside down.

“ ‘Course.” He glanced behind us. His gloved hands tightened about my waist, and it was with great relief I found myself upright and set gently down upon the horse before him, sidesaddle, as was proper.

His arm stayed around me, and my pulse pounded as my chance of escape dimmed. The man had arms thicker than a fence post.

He grinned at my cold face. “Surprised? Being the captain of King Edmund’s guard is risky, but it works.” His grip on my waist tightened as he glanced behind us at the empty trail. “Kavenlow is either moonstruck or planning a game I won’t live to see the end of if he’s taking someone so close to the throne as his apprentice. Hell and damnation, what if something happened to the real heir? You’d be pulled down before the ink dried on the coronation invitations. The man has more gall than I’d give him by his milksop looks.”

He looked behind him again. “So, out with it,” he said. “Leaving Prince Chu-head alone this long isn’t wise. What are Kavenlow’s thoughts on Garrett’s bid for your land? I’m tempted to back the dunderhead, though his father will have to annex the kingdom as his own before I can use it in play.” His white teeth showed strongly behind his beard. “I’m going to enjoy tending Costenopolie’s harbors as well as Edmund’s farms. Hard luck having to start over.”

I stared dumbfounded at him. He was talking as if he stood higher, had more power, than his king’s son. “Don’t you mean, King Edmund’s farms?” I stammered.

“King? Since when does a piece warrant king?” Jeck paused, taking in my silence. His face went empty, and his grip tightened.

“You didn’t leave the trail; you were following it. Damn it all to hell,” he swore. “He hasn’t told you who you are yet. You’re not a player, you’re still a damned piece.”

Panicking, I squirmed. “Duncan!” I shouted, slamming my heels into his horse. The black horse squealed and lurched. Jeck scrambled for control as I slid to the ground.

Three darts hit me in quick succession as I ran into the woods. Bark bit at my palms as I clutched at a tree, staggering under the venom. Lungs heaving, I fought off the vertigo, quickly regaining my balance.

Nausea rose high. Jeck crashed after me. Panic gave me a renewed strength. I struggled forward, running.

“Sorry, Princess,” Jeck said breathlessly as he yanked my arm and brought me to a spun-about halt.

“I’m not wasting any more darts on you.”

I gasped as the butt of his sword arced toward me. There was an instant of white pain in my temple, then nothing.

Thirteen

My head hurt. It pounded from somewhere over my right temple. That was the first breath of awareness, to wedge itself past my muzzy blanket of unconsciousness. The second was that I was sitting on something sharp. It felt like a thorn, but I had a suspicion it was one of Jeck’s darts. A filmy black cloth stretched across my face, cutting into the corners of my mouth. I tried to raise my hands, finding my arms were bound behind me. A familiar chalky taste coated my tongue—the flavor that an overdose of venom left behind. I pried my eyelids apart, blinking.

It was well past noon by the sun’s position; I had been out most of the day. My boots and stockings were gone, which would explain why my feet were so cold they ached. A cord was about my ankles. I was propped against a tree, its bark pinching my knuckles and back. Before me was a small camp.

Jeck’s, I assumed, since it was his horse tied nearby. The black gelding still wore his riding pad, and he looked annoyed as he flicked his tail at it.

A metal pan steamed over a small, smokeless fire. Beside it were my black hair ribbon, my coiled whip, my bone knife, and Kavenlow’s bag. I went cold as I realized Jeck had searched me while I was unconscious. He had taken my hair down in his search for more darts, and the tips were trailing in the sticks and leaves. Where else had he looked, I wondered, and why had he taken my stockings off? My head slumped back to hit the tree. I was tied to a tree in my bare feet. It wasn’t raining. That meant it was going to get worse. Somehow.

Gathering my resolve, I wiggled to get free. The horse turned to watch. “Mummph,” I granted in frustration around the gag, but the horse didn’t care. Ears pricked, he looked over my shoulder. I heard the thuds of approaching hooves.
Duncan
! I thought, squirming to make as much noise as possible.

Wiggling and twisting, I peered around the tree to find Jeck, not Duncan, leading Tuck through the brash. My straggles stopped, and I slumped. Tuck eagerly paced to join Jeck’s horse. I closed my eyes in misery. The gray still wore my saddle; Jeck had probably stolen him so we could reach the palace sooner. Worry pinched my brow, and I hoped Duncan was all right. A single dart might kill him so soon after last night.

“Princess.”

My eyes flew open at the soft word. It was entirely devoid of emotion, either sincerity or mockery.

Dressed in black leather and linen, Jeck looked more like a highwayman than the captain of King Edmund’s guard. His black cloak was clean, showing only a dusting of grass and dirt. He eyed me from under the brim of a simple black hat. It appeared far more functional than the one decked with feathers he had worn when I first saw him.

Crouching by the fire, he took off his riding gloves and poured the liquid from the steaming plate into a bowl. My eyes darted from the near-boiling water to his eyes. Whatever was in that bowl probably wasn’t soup. And I was sitting here, pretty much helpless.

“I’m glad you woke,” he said as he stood. “I didn’t want to move you until you had.”

“Mummph,” I said, making it as belligerent as I could. My defiance faltered as he crossed the camp and knelt beside me. Lurching, I swung my bound feet up to hit him.

Balance never shifting, he grasped my knees with a thick-knuckled hand and pinned them. “Easy, Princess,” he said, sitting upon my knees and tugging the scarf from my mouth.

“Get off me,” I demanded, taking a grateful breath of air. “Let me go!”

“I don’t like being kicked.” He dipped a square of cloth into the water, and I squirmed, tilting my head away as far as I could. “Hold still,” he muttered.

I flinched when he touched me, but his fingers were gentle as he dabbed at my forehead. Slowly I let out my held breath, watching his brown eyes. I could almost believe it was concern that pinched his quiet face. The cloth came away with crusted blood and the faint smell of figwort. It would reduce the swelling, and I wondered why he bothered.

“My apologies,” he said, his attention on what he was doing. “I hit you too hard. Prince Garrett wants you in good health, not feverish with infection.” He rinsed the cloth, and the water turned red with my blood. “He’ll have my hide should I bring you back in too sorry a condition.” Leaving the rag on the edge of the bowl, he leaned closer to inspect his work.

His shirt brushed my cheek, and I could smell woodsmoke and two days in the wilds on him. He eased back, and I started to breathe again. “How gallant of the Misdev dog,” I said sharply. “Wanting me in good health before he weds me, rapes me, then kills me.” I would have called for Duncan, but Jeck wouldn’t have removed the gag had he been close.

Jeck made a noise of agreement and moved to sit before the fire on a decaying log. Watching, I pulled my knees to my chin to hide my dirty feet as much as to try to warm myself. I thought I’d been vulnerable sleeping across the fire from a cheat. Now I knew what vulnerable was. Jeck rubbed a sword-hardened hand over his tidy beard and looked at his horse. “What am I going to do with her?” he asked the animal as if I wasn’t sitting in front of him.

“Let me go?” I prompted.

His gaze flicked to mine. “No.”

“Untie me? At least my hands? It’s not as if I can run away from you. Not without my boots.” My thoughts went to my knife and whip beside the fire. “And I’m sitting on something sharp,” I complained to move him into something foolish. “One of your darts, probably. One would think you would have realized I had some immunity right off. But no-o-o-o, you just keep darting away, wasting them until you
hit
me.”

He reached out. Before I realized his intent, he shoved me over. I shrieked as my cheek smacked the leaf mold. “Get your hands off me!” I cried as a hand fell heavy on my hip, forcing me down. A scream escaped me as he flung my skirts over my head.

“Hold still. I see it.”

The light was a crimson tint from my red underskirt as I wiggled, fighting him. There was the twinge of something sharp being removed from my behind. “Get off me!” I yelled, and his weight on my hip vanished. I gasped as a hand gripped my shoulder and yanked me upright. By the time I flung the hair from my eyes, he was back before the fire holding one of his tiny wooden darts between his fingers and eying it for damage.

“What luck. It’s not broken,” he said as he tucked the sliver of wood into his hatband, showing me where he kept them. His eyes went to mine, and his eyebrows bunched. If I got loose, they would be the first thing I would head for, and he knew it.

“You uncouth Misdev
barbarian
!” I shouted, trying to spit the curl of hair out of my mouth. “Don’t you
ever
do that again! I’ll have you keelhauled and thrown into the chu pits!”

He gave me a speaking look, his eyes going to the gag still loose about my neck and the rope about my ankles. My dress wasn’t exactly where it ought to be, and face flaming, I tucked my legs up to hide them.

“You are the most vile man I have ever met,” I said, my heart still pounding. “You abduct me, knock me out, search me while I’m unconscious, and tie me up. Then you shove me down and nearly pull off my dress while my hands and feet are bound. Untie me. Right now!”

A rude snicker came from Jeck, infuriating me. “I didn’t pull off your dress. I pulled out a dart. Would you rather I left it in?” I stiffened as he rose to his feet, flicking a knife out from somewhere. “You do anything I don’t like, I’ll knock you silly again,” he said.

I held my breath, pushing back into the tree for leverage. If he got close enough, I could kick him unconscious, now that my skirts were about my knees. But before I even had a chance, he put his big hand on the back of my head and shoved my forehead to my knees. I took a breath to shout at him, my impetus dying as there was a firm tug on my wrists, and my hands were free. His hand lifted from me. My outrage vanished and I pulled my aching arms forward. A groan of pain slipped out before I could stop it.

Jeck eyed me carefully from three steps away as I rubbed my wrists and the red marks left by the bindings. Tingling jolts pulsed through my fingers with a steady hum, hurting them with the sudden heat of circulation but soothing my wrists where I held them. My feet were still tied, but I had my hands. I was halfway to freedom. Soldier he may be, but he was a fool for believing threats of violence would keep me docile.

“Thank you,” I said sullenly. The gag was still about my neck, and I picked the knot loose and dropped the spit-soaked rag to the earth.

“If you try to escape, I’ll tie you up again,” he warned as he coiled the cord he had used about my wrists and shoved it in a saddlebag along with my whip and knife. His face lost its emotion when he saw me sitting cross-legged, holding my wrists. “What—ah—what are you doing?”

I looked up, doing nothing to hide my disgust. “My wrists hurt!”

“Um,” he said, his lips pressing together to almost disappear behind his beard and mustache. “It’s just the circulation coming back. You’ll be fine.”

“I know that.” My eyes narrowed when he turned away. I remembered my hands had the same, humming-tingly feeling when I had been comforting Duncan. They hadn’t been tied at all then. But my wrists felt better, and I let them go.

I purposely kept my gaze away from the horses. As soon as I could, I’d be gone. “May I have some of that warmed water?” I asked, embarrassed that my face was streaked with dirt.

Attention on an unvoiced thought, he set the high-walled pan within my reach. I edged closer to it and the fire. Everything but my hands were cold, the tingling having subsided into an ache. “Did you kill Duncan?” I asked, unable to keep the worry from my voice.

“The man with you?” he said, seeming to jump to the present. “No. I had no reason to.”

“Then how did you get his horse?” I asked.

Jeck smirked and sat down across from me. “He fell off when I spooked his horse. The beast is more flighty than six deer. I thought the gray was yours. The stableman said you stole a horse and a saddle—”

“I
paid
for them,” I protested, then hesitated. “You talked to the stableman…”

Nodding, Jeck pulled a travel cake from his saddlebag. “Getting out as one of two,” he said around a mouthful of fat and grain. “Nice. How did you convince a vagrant to help you?”

I said nothing, feeling sullen. My stomach rumbled at the smell of honey.

Apparently unconcerned, Jeck brushed a crumb from his beard. “I knew you’d want a horse, and the man wouldn’t stop talking about you. How his girl ran away with the mare he sold you. How you stole the one that belonged to the palace, and what was he going to tell the palace when they came to collect them? Oh, woe is me,” he finished in a mocking voice.

I felt ill, realizing I’d left a trail as clear as Kavenlow’s. My eyes flicked to the black gelding. It was the twin to my mare. “That’s my horse,” I said. “He was holding them for me.”

Jeck’s narrow mustache rose as he grinned. “He’s a fine animal, and a great deal more rested than my horse. Being the captain of King Edmund’s guards has its privilege.”

He had taken my horse when it came right down to it. Turning the hem of my dress up, I looked for a fold of less-begrimed fabric I could use to clean myself.

Jeck leaned to his pack and tossed me a wad of cloth. It arched over the fire and landed squarely in my lap. I picked it up—fully intending to throw it back into his face—but it was soft and clean, smelling of soap. Abandoning pride for comfort, I dipped it into the warm water.