The Decoy Princess

by Dawn Cook

  “But it’s not your kingdom,” Duncan said, jerking my attention up. “Why do you care?”

  My lips pressed together as I put the venom back into Kavenlow’s pouch and tied it shut. “I’ll sleep in a chu pit before I let Prince Garrett think he can have Costenopolie.”

  His shoulders shifted in an audible sigh as stood beside Tuck’s head. “Tess, you’re a commoner. And there’s no shame in it. Let the royals bicker over what they will. It makes no difference who sits on the throne. You have to look out for yourself. No one else will.”

  I said nothing, putting my eyes on the brightening sky showing behind the spring leaves.

  The uneasy silence was heavy as he took up the horses’ leads. “I’ll bring some water back so you can wash,” he said, leading the horses away. “I have some soap—if you need it.”

  At the mention of soap, my feeling of filth seemed to increase tenfold. It was more than the earth beneath my palms and the blood staining my nails. I miserably got to my feet as he left, feeling all the aches from yesterday come to life. Today ought to be a joy as I added to them.

  I wondered at Duncan’s new respect. I didn’t think it came from me having nearly killed him, and I was sure it didn’t stem from a reverence for the crown—of which he had none. I was hoping it was born from a respect of me and me alone. It was something I found rarely enough among the fawning nobles, and I found my feelings toward him softening. After two days of fending for myself, his simple offer to get me water meant more to me than it should.

  The sound of the horses in the brush faded. I gazed listlessly after them, wondering if Duncan was right and I should just keep running.

  Numb, I folded my torch flowers into a cloth and tucked it in Kavenlow’s pouch before tying it to my belt. The stink of last night’s onions was thick on me, and when I took care of my morning ritual, I found my inner legs had a layer of grime on them from rubbing against Pitch yesterday. It had gone clear through my underthings.

  “God help me,” I whispered as I dropped my skirts, wondering if there was anything clean in the world. Duncan’s water wasn’t going to touch the black mix of horse sweat and dirt.

  There was a movement at the far end of the field, and I hurriedly checked that my skirts were in the right place. A sharp pinch in my shoulder brought my hand up, and I slapped it.

  My hand hit not the expected insect but the smooth feel of wood. Heart in my throat, I plucked out a tiny wooden dart ringed with back.

  I was found.

  Panicked, I looked up. A black horse bolted from the trees and across the field. Hunched upon him was Jeck with his cloak flapping like Death himself.

  “Duncan!” I shrieked, lunging into the woods. Hidden behind a tree, I fumbled for my dart pipe. I peeked past the oak, my face going cold as I loosed one, then another, to no effect. I fumbled for my whip, but the black monster of a horse was upon me. Gasping, I ran, stumbling as my will was faster than my feet.

  “Duncan!” I cried as I spotted him. He was too far away. Branches snapped as the black horse came to a four-posted stop. “No!” I shrieked as an arm wrapped about my waist. I jammed a dart into Jeck. Swearing, he dropped me, pulled the bone needle from his thick leather jerkin, and snapped it in two with a leather-gloved hand.

  I hit the ground hard. Jeck followed me down. I held my last dart like a dagger as I tried to rise. Jeck caught me halfway up, grabbing the back of my neck so tight I yelped. His other hand went about my wrist, squeezing. My fingers opened. My last needle fell to the ground.

  “Princess,” he growled, and I was flung like a sack of fish over the horse’s shoulders. “He-ya!” Jeck shouted as, with a lurch, he sprang onto the riding pad behind me. My stomach hurt. I struggled to breathe as the horse bolted.

  “Let me go,” I panted. The vegetation was a blur as we raced down the trail. Taking a jolting breath, I kneed the horse. It squealed, rising up to almost spill us.

  “Relax, Princess,” Jeck said as the horse’s feet hit the ground and we continued. “Can you fight a little less energetically?”

  He sounded almost casual, infuriating me. “Let me go!” I shouted, bending awkwardly to punch him in the gut. The man grunted, but I hadn’t been able to put enough force behind the blow to do more than annoy him.

  “Stop it,” he said. “You asked for this meeting, not me. Your trail was clear enough.”

  Trail? I thought, going limp in surprise and wheezing for breath. Kavenlow’s trail of leaves? Jeck knew what they were?

  “So you’re Kavenlow’s apprentice,” Jeck was saying, confusing me further. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Jeck knew Kavenlow? I tilted my head, bouncing with the horse’s movements. Jeck was smiling behind his trim black beard. I felt his leg tense as he put the horse into a slower gait.

  “I thought it was your servant girl, first, seeing as she had disappeared,” he said, his eyes on the trail back to the palace. “But only a player could escape the palace as quickly as you did. And no one but a player would have dart venom. Hard luck Kavenlow being sent on an errand just when he needed to be here. He must trust you if he is willing to let you speak for him. You’re being a shade paranoid, though. 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 grunted 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 brush. My struggles 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?”