I feel the danger I’ve put myself in even as Alastor snorts at my response and mumbles something about stupid bravery. In the firelight, those gray eyes flicker, the prince looking for all the world like he’d like to end me right this moment.
He drops the tip of his sword.
“Except I saved you from an assassin. If I hadn’t used my evil fae powers, you’d already be dead by now.”
His claim pulls me up short.
“An assassin?”
“Yes, likely the same one whoactuallykilled your parents. Or do hooded men with sharp knives have a habit of lurking in your bedroom?”
I’d just assumed the man they killed was a guard, but it’s true I don’t have any actual evidence of that. It feels foolish now, to not even have considered this other option, but what else should I have thought when the situation involved the Nightmare Prince? His reputation precedes him.
Which means he could just as easily be lying now.
“Why should I believe you?” I say.
He makes a scornful growl rather than answering, turning and crossing back round to his side of fire, throwing himself down.
“You’ll be staying with Alastor and me until the border. While we travel through this country, you’re our shield, and you’re going to make sure we can safely cross back into Filusia. After that, I don’t care what happens to you.”
Does he mean it? Or when we get to the edge of our two nations, will he cut my throat, finishing the job he was sent here to do?
I don’t say another word, and my silence satisfies the prince. He turns back to Alastor, ignoring me once more. I wrap my cloak closer around me, trying to ward off the cold and my dark thoughts. I have to stay alert. It’s the only way I’ll be able to take my chance to escape, if it comes. My hand drifts to my pocket, where the vial of potion sits. It’s so little. Barely a few days’ worth, even if I lower my dose like I did back in Gallawing.
I’ll run out long before we reach the border. What if I get too weak to escape at all?
I clutch it tightly, my lifeline, and glance over at the fae. They know I need it, but they can’t know exactly how important it is, or it’ll just become another sword they can hold at my throat.
Chapter9
Leon
Ican always tell how angry Alastor is with me based on the number of gods he calls on to curse me and my thoughtless ways. One or two, and he’s only annoyed. If he bumps it up to three or four, he’s seriously pissed with me.
We’ve been away from Elmere for about six hours now, and I’m starting to worry he’s going to run out of deities.
“And what in the name of Ralus’s golden ball sack made you think this was a good idea?” he mutters to me. The princess is lying on the other side of the fire, fast asleep. At least Alastor waited until she was out to properly berate me. “We’re trying to prove our innocence here, and then you have to go after their secret princess—soon to be Trova’s queen, for the love of Lusteris—and kidnap her?”
“Maybe it’s precisely because I want to prove our innocence that I brought her with us. Did you think about that?”
He shakes his head. “Sweet, watery Mariste, do you expect me to believe you actually had a plan? Oh yes, that’s right—it’s all about leverage, isn’t it? Well, I’d like to see the leverage you use when we have to fight our way through Trova’s armies to get out of here alive.”
I say nothing for a moment, waiting for him to calm down. That’s the thing with Alastor: he has no filter. When your power means that everyone around you tells the truth all the time, you tend to forget the value of holding back. Eventually, he remembers that sometimes he has to shut up if he wants answers.
“Alright, fine,” he says after a few minutes of silence. “Whatisthe plan? Why in the name of Winni—” He pauses, collects himself, and continues, “Why are we now carting around the heir to the Trovian throne?”
“Because, aside from being a useful bargaining chip if we everdoend up surrounded by Trova’s armies, if I’d let that assassin get her back at the palace, I would’ve failed in the one task my grandfather set for me: maintain Filusia’s alliance with the Trovian monarchs. Hard to do when they keep dying.”
“We could’ve killed that assassin and still left her there,” Alastor grumbles.
“Sure, because she was so safe in that palace.” I roll my eyes. “You saw the same thing I did. There werenoguards in her wing. Someone withauthorityset this up. I’d have been surprised if she survived a week. Whoever killed King and Queen Angevire is obviously out for their daughter too.”
“And aside from avoiding getting framed for another murder, we want a monarch whose claim to the Trovian throne can’t be contested,” Alastor says, proving he understands.
I nod. “We need strong ties with the Trovian royals if the Temple’s influence is going to be kept in check, and I don’t trust a regent to hold things together until a new heir can be found. Don’t you remember how that went last time?”
Eighty years ago, a dispute over the throne led to civil war. And while the fact that the fae backed the winning sideshouldmean our interests are safe, I don’t trust the humans to remember who their friends are. Especially when they keep giving that damn Temple of Ethira more and more power.
