The Prince's Wing

by Amber R. Duell

  Chapter Eleven

  Sharp pain sliced down the center of my head. I flew up, instantly awake, and clutched my forehead. It took a few long seconds before I could crack my eyes open, and when I did, Bastian’s room slowly took focus. The events of last night came back in a rush.

  Sneaking out to see Faramond. The boy with the roasted nuts. All the drinks at the tavern. Finding my way back to the palace, to Bastian’s room, and how I needed to threaten a couple of guards. Motherfucker. I was never drinking again.

  I rolled and shifted to my knees on the fur rug. Bastian was slumped over at his table, head on his folded arms, snoring. “Bast,” I croaked, climbing unsteadily to my feet. “Wake up.”

  Bastian jumped, scattering papers to the ground. “What time is it?”

  “Damned if I know.” I rubbed my forehead. No one had come knocking to get Bastian dressed yet, so it wasn’t late. Unless someone had come knocking and I was sleeping too deeply. Bastian would’ve heard though, or the guards would’ve burst in thinking the worst.

  Bastian groaned and scooped the fallen letters from the floor. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  I grunted in agreement and caught a whiff of myself, cringing. “I need a bath.”

  “That stench is coming from you then?”

  “Ha. Ha.” Though, yes. Yes, it was. The scent of yeast seemed to ooze from my pores and something else—a musty smell with a hint of rot—clung to my clothes. Had I sat in something dead at the tavern? I would need to obtain new clothes for sneaking into the city now that people had seen me in them so I might as well burn them. There was no getting this stench out.

  A knock on the door pulled both our attention.

  “If my father asks, I’ll tell him I gave you the night off,” Bastian said quickly. “But even then, if anyone tells him you were drunk, he might demand you be whipped.”

  Wouldn’t be the first time. I nodded once, well aware of the potential repercussions. “What’s a few more scars?”

  Bastian cast me a guilty look. It wasn’t his fault I had lash marks covering my back. There had simply been a learning curve to becoming the perfect guard—or appearing to be. I moved to open the door but Bastian spoke first.

  “I… know it must be hard,” he said. “To have this be your whole life.”

  I lifted a brow. “You’re apologizing a lot lately. Where’s this all coming from?”

  “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his mussed hair, the strands reaching past his shoulders in harsh waves due to the near-constant braids. “The engagement, perhaps. My life is changing, and yours never will.”

  The words were a slap, though I’d accepted their truth long ago. “My life changes the same as yours.”

  “Exactly. The same as mine, but never as your own.”

  I scowled. “Can we not do this?”

  Another pound came on the door, louder, followed by the head servant calling, “Your Highness. Are you well?”

  “Enter,” he replied.

  The elderly man shuffled in with three younger servants behind him. They all wore deep blue robes, their hair sheered close to the scalp, and each carried a different piece of the prince’s clothing. They bowed before descending on him with their embroidered fabric.

  “I’ll meet you outside,” I mumbled. It took at least an hour to get him ready every morning which was more than enough time for me to bathe and put on a clean uniform.

  “Wait,” he said, sounding more official than he had before. “The thing I asked of you yesterday…”

  Karina. But I’d already relayed her message about settling in. “What of it?”

  He looked past me, through the sitting room to the still-open door, and took a deep breath. “It’s an ongoing request.”

  “I understand,” I assured him. And I did. It was necessary for a lot of reasons, but that didn’t mean I liked needing to see Karina again.

  He nodded once before holding his arms out for the servants to start the tedious process of dressing him.

  ✽✽✽

  Two lady’s maids sat on the side porch of the Women’s Palace—the same one where Duchess Fransabelle had rested the day before—whispering as they stitched strands of emeralds onto a shimmering black gown. I shouldn’t have paused to listen, but they should’ve noticed my approach from the side gate. It was their job to know who entered the palace and to welcome the visitor while the residing Lady was told that she had guests.

  There hadn’t been a queen or princess since King Jonty’s days. Bastian’s mother died giving birth to him while the war for the throne still waged, and the king hadn’t trusted any woman enough to remarry after. The brothel took care of his carnal desires so there was no real need to share the crown. But whoever was training these lady’s maids was lacking.

  “I’ve met smarter girls in the streets,” the blonde whispered. “How does the daughter of a countess not know how to sit properly?”

  The older of the two pursed her lips. “I caught her kneeling on the lawn early yesterday morning to look at a toad, and in her nightdress no less.”

  “No!”

  She nodded. “Not even a shawl.”

  “Well, she was raised in Port Black,” the blonde said, sounding disgusted. “You know what the women there are like.”

  The massive port city was known for three things: exotic imports, numerous brothels, and luxury apartments noblemen rented to keep their mistresses. She was implying Karina, the future princess—and, one day, queen—was a whore. My pulse thrummed loudly in my ears as I fought the urge to storm through the main room and out onto the patio. I wasn’t here to cause a scene. Duchess Fransabelle would do that for me.

  I stomped up the steps, purposely making enough noise for them to hear my approach. By the time I entered the main doors, both women were there to greet me.

  “My lord,” the older one said, the blonde cowering slightly behind her.

  “Where is Lady Karina?” I snapped.

  “In the library with Duchess Fransabelle,” she replied.

  I brushed past them without another word. While I wasn’t familiar with the layout of the Women’s Palace, I was sure to find it eventually. I walked quietly, listening for the duchess’s frustrated instructions, but it seemed Karina was doing better today. Either that or I was nowhere near the library. I peeked into rooms with furniture still hidden beneath dusty sheets and shuttered windows. Sitting rooms, bathing chambers, a sun room, closets. None of them were locked, and only the dining area appeared lived in. the rectangular table sat six with a lace cloth covering its surface. Blue and white floral wallpaper covered the walls and large portraits of men and women unknown to me hung every few feet. Tall planters were arranged in every corner with bushy plants.

  But I wasn’t interested in the dining area. I needed the library, so I continued on until, finally, I came upon an opulent door at the end of a hallway.

  On the other side was a large sitting room, almost exactly the same as the one in Bastian’s residence. Only, instead of deep, rich colors, the decor consisted of white, gold, and mauve. I zeroed in on the far door, knowing it would lead to Karina’s private chambers, and quickly went through it. Would I get in trouble for this if someone caught me? Karina was a bastard but a king’s bastard who was also Bastian’s fiancée. Society, in general, owed her some respect. I rubbed my chin, considering. If Karina herself caught me, I could remind her how I didn’t tell anyone about the garden or the kiss. Her ladies could be silenced if I told them Bastian asked me to be there, but I really didn’t want to drag Bastian into this.

  Fuck.

  I was wasting time. This was the palace—no one had the luxury of privacy. In all likelihood, I wasn’t even the first to go through her things since she arrived. Before I could think any more of it, I slipped inside. The scent of wildflowers instantly struck me. I took a shallower breath and did my best to ignore the memories it conjured of the garden.

  Brocade curtains were drawn, casting the room in co
ol morning light. The bed had already been made, the down-filled comforter pulled tight, and at least a dozen pillows were piled near the white headboard. Gauzy material hung from the ceiling around the entire bed, also drawn back now with golden rope. There was nothing that stuck out to me as strange. A lounge chair near the fireplace, a ridiculously large wardrobe that took up an entire wall, and a small dressing table with a mirror.

  But no Aster would leave incriminating evidence where it could be seen, so I began my search. There would be nothing beneath the mattress or hidden between gowns as any maid could find them, but still I looked, fruitlessly. The hiding places for secret notes or other contraband would have to be much more creative. Loose floorboards. Hidden compartments inside the wardrobe. Tucked inside a ripped curtain or fastened beneath a drawer. In the heels of her numerous shoes or sewn into the lining of a cloak.

  After checking behind the paintings on the wall and examining each piece of jewelry for hidden compartments that may hide poison, I was nearly at a loss. Had I been wrong about her? Perhaps Karina was an innocent pawn in all of this. But then I bent down to look beneath a padded stool in the corner of the room. A frayed piece of ribbon dangled from a rip near one of the legs. I carefully pulled it free and ran the pink ribbon between my fingers. It was old and faded with creases worn into it, and bits of dirt embedded into the weave. The countess would never have allowed her daughter such a filthy thing.

  There was no definitive way of knowing if it belonged to Karina, however. For all I knew, it was from another time, a different lady.

  I swept my eyes over the room once more before stuffing the ribbon back where I’d found it. Nothing incriminating was to be found, save the ribbon, but that didn’t mean I was finished looking. The Red Asters were smart enough not to allow Karina to bring anything with her that could give their plan away, but from what I’d seen, she was good at sneaking. If not, she never would’ve lost her lady’s maids and made it to the garden.

  With a sigh, I snuck from Karina’s private rooms and continued searching for the library.

  Luckily it wasn’t far.

  “Hello, Saer,” Duchess Fransabelle greeted warmly as I stepped into the sprawling room full of old books. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Karina sitting in a cream-colored wingback chair, a crease between her brows.

  “Duchess,” I said, kissing her hand, and led her toward the library doors. “I need to speak with you.”

  “Oh?”

  I nodded solemnly and relayed every word I’d heard from the maids. Her face grew grim, her frail shoulders squaring. “I will have none of it,” she vowed. “Stay with her, won’t you? She has a tendency to disappear if left unsupervised.”

  A smirk tugged at my lips. Two problems, solved. “She’ll be right where you left her.”

  “Good boy,” she said, and left the library faster than I thought she could move.

  I whirled on Karina the moment the door shut and my traitorous heart slammed into my chest. Her honey brown hair looked golden where it curled against the rich purple dress. Shimmering ribbons crisscrossed down her arms, forming sleeves. Strands of gems stretched across her upper chest, the lowest grazing the top of her cleavage, and gold dust shimmered on her eyelids.

  “Lord Tufaro.” Her grip tightened on the book she held. “You’re back.”

  My eyes swept the small library, ensuring we were alone among the white shelves and potted wisteria. “I told you our conversation wasn’t over.”

  Her breathing increased, chest heaving, eyes wide. “I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

  “Isn’t there?” I prowled toward her and Karina shrank back into the chair. She held her book against her chest as if it were a shield. Treaties of the North. “Interesting choice in reading material.”

  Karina sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and flicked a glance at the tome. “I was told I wouldn’t have a role in politics.”

  “Oh?” I perched on the table in front of her and leaned forward. The scent of wildflowers hit my nose. I swallowed hard, ignoring how it made my chest tighten with want. “What did you think you would do as a future queen?”

  “The countess—my mother—she said…” Her cheeks flamed. “Well, she never taught me politics because she said the prince wouldn’t want my opinion. And all I had to do was…”

  Kill him as he slept? “Was what?”

  Karina looked down at the book in her lap. “To give the prince heirs.”

  I blinked in surprise, then let out a sharp laugh without meaning to. “If producing living children was all it took to be queen, anyone could be plucked from the street.”

  Her blush deepened. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

  I sobered at the sight of her trembling fingers. If she wasn’t lying, if she really expected to give Bastian children, she wasn’t planning to kill him. At least not right away. “Forgive me,” I said. “That wasn’t my intent.”

  She nodded once, lowering the book to her thighs, and traced the embossed title. My skin tingled, wishing it was me she touched like that.

  Fuck. No. Control yourself.

  “Your mother was wrong. Prince Bastian will want your opinions on many things so it’s good the duchess is giving you lessons.” I sucked in a breath. Fransabelle wouldn’t be gone forever—I had to spend more time getting answers and less time needlessly comforting a liar. “I need you to be honest with me now, while we’re alone. Why are you here?”

  Karina’s breath hitched. “To marry Prince Bastian.”

  “Yes.” My eyes narrowed. “But why? Who sent you? What’s your real goal?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “I’m here because my marriage was brokered.”

  “And you jumped at the chance to become a princess?” As anyone would. Unless they belonged to the Red Asters.

  “I was given a choice,” she said carefully. “But in reality, it wasn’t a choice at all.”

  My top lip curled into a sneer. “It was a choice to kiss me in the garden.”

  “You kissed me,” she said in a rush.

  I leaned in closer, eyeing her lips. “Yes, but you kissed me back.”

  A harsh breath left her then, her gaze snapping to me. “I did. Is that what you want to hear? I let you kiss me and I kissed you back. Because I wanted to.”

  “That’s it then.” I tilted my head, studying her. “You’re here to drive Bastian and I apart. To make him vulnerable.”

  Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? It made sense. Faramond doubted me, thought I was useless or compromised. Sending in Karina would not only get me away from the prince, making him open to attack, but also put an Aster in line for the throne. I believed she wasn’t privy to the entire plot—I was beginning to think no Aster was—but she had to know this wasn’t a simple marriage to bridge two families.

  “No.” Karina’s voice became sharp as she inched to the edge of her chair, invading my space. “I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone because it was my choice. Someone I wanted to kiss. Just once before I promised myself to someone else.”

  My chest tightened. She wanted to kiss me. I leaned in until there was only an inch between our lips. It was torture being this close. Her scent. The invisible pull demanding I close the gap. Taste her. Touch her. “Why me? You could’ve kissed any number of guards when you were traipsing through the palace.”

  “I didn’t plan any of it.” Her breath skated over my skin and I shivered. “Meeting you, talking to you, kissing you. All of it just happened.”

  My hand came up to her cheek, thumb sliding over her cheekbone. Her warmth sent a rush through my body and my breath hitched. “It can’t happen again.” Was I telling myself? Or her? Both of us? “Bastian is all I have. I won’t betray him. He can never know.”

  Her chin tilted toward me, lips parting. I inched closer. Fuck. I wanted to dig my fingers into her hair, pull her close, kiss her until our lips were swollen. The way
her breath hitched told me she wanted that too. Instead, I ripped myself away before I could lose control.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

  I ran a hand through my hair, accidentally loosening pieces from the knot that fell into my eyes. “So am I.”

  What the hell just happened? I’d meant to get the truth out of her… and maybe I had. Maybe she knew nothing. But I wouldn’t betray Bastian now that I knew who she was. I couldn’t even be angry with her that she’d nearly betrayed him too. It took two. We were both walking a fine line.

  It had to end here.

  There was nothing hidden in her room to hint at a grander plan, and deep down, I believed she wasn’t aware of one. That made us both pawns at the mercy of higher powers, but there were still lines we couldn’t cross. And, just because she wasn’t planning to murder Bastian herself, that didn’t mean no one was. I had to keep searching. Keep digging. And, more than anything, I had to stay far away from Karina. Even if Bastian begged me to keep visiting.

  “That takes care of that,” Duchess Franscabelle said in a stern voice as she hobbled back into the library. “You’ll have new maids by dinner.”

  “Why?” Karina asked.

  The duchess shot me a look that would silence even the biggest gossip. “Because I said so. Are you still reading or shall I test you on Eradrist’s history?”

  “I’m still reading,” she grumbled, the spine of her book cracking open.

  “Enjoy the rest of your day, Lady Karina.” I gave her a stiff bow, then bent again to Fransabelle. “Duchess.”

  I’d never been happier to flee a room than I was today. But every step that took me farther away from Karina was also a step closer to Bastian. Fresh waves of guilt washed over me, icy cold then blisteringly hot. How would I face him when he left his morning meeting with the governors? How would I face him ever again?