The Decoy Princess

by Dawn Cook

  “How much silver?” I said bitterly, determined to know my worth.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He hesitated. “Enough for a loaf of bread,” he said, and I made a helpless moan. “I don’t know my parentage either,” he said, trying to catch my gaze. “No player does. I came from the docks. My mother was a tavern wench and my father probably a sailor.”

  I sniffed, miserable. I didn’t want to hear any more. None of it.

  Kavenlow took my chin and turned me to him. The lines of his face were softened by shadow. “The king and queen bought you, Tess, but I stole you from them.” He made a short, unhappy laugh. “Perhaps it is more accurate to say you stole me. I was completely unprepared.”

  My eyes rose to his, and I saw the love in him.

  “You were so clever and bright,” he said with a faint smile. “You were the daughter I could never have. And when you survived the assassin’s darts that killed the others?” His smile turned full with a soft memory. “That was when I convinced the queen the only way to insure her daughter’s survival would be to send her away. I had found my apprentice, and I would have her raised with all the skills and grace of a princess.”

  “Apprentice?” I whispered, my hope almost painful.

  “The king and queen are legally your parents, but I raised you, Tess,” he said, pride crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re more my child than theirs.”

  The tightness in my chest loosened, and I took a breath. In my soul, I knew he was right. Our long hours spent in diversion, his attentive interest in my studies—these were not faked, put on to lull me into thinking he cared. I was not his plaything. I was not the princess’s decoy to be cast aside. I was Kavenlow’s apprentice.

  He nodded, seeing the beginnings of forgiveness in my eyes. Shoulders bowed in relief, he moved us back to the path. My thoughts were spinning too fast to say anything, and we went to fetch the horses in an awkward silence until he cleared his throat. “Did Captain Jeck tell you anything about his plans?” he asked, his voice mixing with the singing frogs.

  “No,” I said, amused at the intentness in his voice. Imagine, Kavenlow looking for information from me. “Garrett has only enough men to hold the palace and outer garrisons, and they aren’t very good. He expects more in about . . . ten days. Jeck did say he thought Garrett could manage it and that he wouldn’t mind tending our ships as well as Misdev’s farms.”

  Kavenlow frowned. “Then he thinks King Edmund will claim Costenopolie when the dust settles. A player can only manipulate one kingdom. If Jeck wants to use Costenopolie in play, King Edmund will have to take it first.” He was silent, his movements going jerky as they did when he was worried.

  “Just how many rules are there?” I questioned, not liking the idea.

  His teeth gleamed from the dark. “Very few, of which I’ll acquaint you in due time. Some are self-imposed and can be broken, such as knowing who another player is in reality, like Captain Jeck. Others can’t and will result in being pulled down should you flaunt them.”

  “Like putting yourself on the throne,” I said, and when he nodded, the fear slipped back into me, twice as strong. “Yes, but if I’m not on the throne, how will we keep the royals from swamping us? You saw her,” I accused, walking almost sideways as I pleaded. “She is a pathetic, soft know-nothing.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Don’t be harsh. Her life has been upended as much as yours. She may be having hysterics, but she wasn’t the one pounding her sister’s head into the ground.”

  “She’s not my sister,” I said, flushing. “She doesn’t even want to be the princess.”

  “She is Costenopolie’s heir, and she will be put on the throne.” His jaw was set.

  “But she can’t control a kingdom!” I protested. “She can’t even control her mouth! When it’s made common knowledge that Prince Garrett murdered my parents and the princess was raised in a nunnery, the assassination attempts will redouble. That’s assuming our neighbors don’t declare outright war on us. Garrett should be sent back to his father in a box. You can convince King Edmund that his death was justified. That’s why I came looking for you! You have to smooth the political waves after I kill him.”

  “Political waves!” Kavenlow said, aghast. The horses were just ahead, and he pulled me to a stop. “Tess. We can’t kill Prince Garrett and not expect retaliation under any circumstances. It doesn’t matter how much blood money we give them.”

  My lips pursed. Kavenlow didn’t understand. Garrett was going to die. He couldn’t be allowed to think his actions would go unpunished. “The easiest way to end this is to kill Garrett,” I said sullenly.

  Kavenlow shook his head. “No. I won’t start a war over one person’s pride.”

  I stiffened. “Pride! He murdered them! If that’s not justification, what is?”

  “It’s not necessary, and I won’t let you.”

  “Kavenlow!”

  “No. Costenopolie is mine, not yours. There can’t be two players for one kingdom. Technically, you’re still a piece. I’m the player. And you won’t kill Prince Garrett. I forbid it!”

  Embarrassment covered my surprise at him giving me a direct order. I was no longer the princess, even in play. I was his apprentice. I didn’t mind as much as I would have expected—seeing as I had spent the last few days being nothing. “But they’re dead,” I protested, and we shifted back into motion. I could say the words, now that I’d found Kavenlow.

  His face was sad as he glanced from the shadows of the waiting horses and back to me. “Tess, Costenopolie’s player before me wasn’t a pleasant man. He used people badly, and it was because of him Costenopolie and Misdev warred upon each other.”

  “What does that have to do with letting Garrett live above justice?” I asked.

  “Listen and I’ll tell you,” he said, and I grimaced. “I was far into my apprenticeship when I decided I wouldn’t use aggression to increase my sovereign’s standing. I wanted to try commerce. My master and I argued, and he tried to kill me when it became obvious I wouldn’t continue his plan of conquest by sea. I barely escaped him, exchanging his life for mine.”

  I stifled a tremor, imagining the terror of finding someone I trusted trying to kill me.

  “Once my peers found out I had killed my master, it took all my cunning to convince them I wasn’t going to manipulate Costenopolie’s king to directly threaten their individual games. They thought I was staging a continent-wide takeover, not believing I had killed my master to prevent him from doing the same. Someone, I haven’t figured out who, yet, started the Red Moon Prophesy to try to end Costenopolie’s royal family line and set me back.”

  “Then it’s fake?” I asked in disbelief, my feet scuffing to a halt. “It’s all been a lie?”

  His apologetic look was obvious, even though it was fully dark. “Most prophesies are continent-wide statements of a player’s future intent.”

  As I stood there, trying to take that in, Kavenlow took my shoulder and moved me to the horses. They were watching us, Jeck’s horse tossing his head in impatience. “I wasn’t unhappy when Misdev’s player died of consumption,” Kavenlow said. “I only know Captain Jeck by reputation, seeing traces of his will in the upcoming marriage plans.”

  I was silent as we loosely cinched riding pads and draped packs on the horses. There were too many thoughts swirling through me, most circling back to the Red Moon Prophesy. The burning-hell thing had been a fake? What had all my misery been for?

  “Where did you get these horses?” Kavenlow asked as he looked at the underside of Pitch’s hoof. Blinking, he set it down and patted her hindquarters.

  I turned from knotting a pack onto Jeck’s horse, glad the moonless night hid my face. “The gray is Duncan’s. The other two—” I warmed. “Why?” I asked. If he knew where I had gotten them, he would make me give them back and the princess would have them.

  Kavenlow looked at me over the back of Jeck’s horse. “T
hese are my horses.”

  My face went empty in dismay. Kavenlow had bought them? For her? “You bought her horses?” I said, hearing the smallness of my voice. “As a betrothal gift?”

  “No!” Kavenlow came around the back of the horse and gripped my shoulder. I looked up, hating the warmth of unshed tears in my eyes. “They’re yours, goose,” he said softly. “I bought them for you. What would a princess do with two black horses she can’t even ride?”

  “B-but the stableman,” I stammered. “He said they were a gift for the princess.”

  “I couldn’t tell him they were for the princess’s changeling, could I?” he said gruffly. “How on earth did you end up with them?”

  “Thank you, Kavenlow!” I said, giving him a hug. They were my horses. It seemed like such a foolish thing to cry over, but I had so little left.

  “I take it you like them?” he asked, awkwardly patting my back. He gripped my shoulders and set me back upright. I wiped my eyes with the inside of my sleeve, and he turned away, clearly uncomfortable. “How did you get them?” he asked again. “I told that man to keep them until I sent for them. They were going to soften the blow of, er—”

  “Of me not being the princess,” I said, imagining the news would have spoiled my delight with them quite thoroughly, even if his intentions had been good. “I sort of stole the mare, and Jeck stole the gelding, though in actuality I paid for mine—well, I paid for a horse, but the girl ran away with it, so you see I had to take one of the others—”

  Kavenlow waved me to silence, and I winced. I thought he would be angry, but his look was of concern. “Captain Jeck stole one?” he asked. “He’s not at the palace? He’s is out here?”

  I nodded, suddenly worried. “Garrett sent him to find me. He caught up with me two days out from the capital. That’s when he let it slip about players. He was going to take me back, but I escaped with his horse.” Embarrassed at my double thievery, I dropped my gaze. “I left his pack in Saltwood for him, except for his knives. I kept those. He’s either behind us or ahead, depending on whether he cut across the bay like I did.”

  Kavenlow went still, as if looking for strength. “You escaped him, stole everything he had, then left most of it for him to find a day down the road?”

  “Yes.” My voice sounded defensive, even to me. “I didn’t need anything he had.”

  Kavenlow silently untied Pitch and Tuck and led them to the path, leaving me to wonder if I had done something wrong. “Let’s get back to the others,” he said, his thoughts clearly on something else. “As you say, he might be before us, or behind. Either way, we will want to meet him together.”

  I followed with Jeck’s horse, my thoughts uneasy at his continued silence. We were nearly back to the camp when I scraped up enough courage to break into the noisy frogs. “Kavenlow?” I questioned, his dark shadow beside me seeming suddenly foreign. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He was silent for so long I was sure I had, but then he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Have you . . . told anyone?” he asked, his tone carrying a forced casualness. “About players? Duncan, perhaps?”

  “No.” I took a long step to match his pace. “But he accidentally darted himself and now thinks I’m an assassin. I told him I was the princess’s decoy, but he doesn’t believe me.”

  His motion hesitated for an instant so brief I might have imagined it. “Ah, how did you explain the venom?” he asked guardedly.

  I met his eyes, black in the dusk. “I told him you made me immune to it so I could defend myself from assassins. It only enforced his belief that I was one.”

  “And he probably thinks I’m the same,” Kavenlow said around a sigh. “No,” he said, raising a hand as I took a breath to apologize. “It’s my fault. It’s not against the rules for someone to know about the venom, but it’s risky. They might jump to the proper conclusion.” His head drooped. “I’ll try to reinforce the idea that I’ve been training you to be the princess’s armed chaperone. It’ll be all right.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, really meaning it.

  Kavenlow smiled thinly. “He hasn’t had much opportunity to tell anyone else. And it’s only been a few days. It shouldn’t be too hard to cloud his thoughts.”

  “But he nearly died!” I exclaimed.

  “Really? I’ll make it food poisoning so it’s a small shift of his memory.”

  I frowned, not liking that I had cooked dinner that night and would be blamed for it. But a thought stopped me cold. “What do you mean by shift of his memory? Duncan’s memory?”

  We rounded a turn and found camp. Duncan stood up from beside the fire as the sound of the horses reached him. The princess was still crying, but at least she was being quiet about it. “Kavenlow, what did you mean by shift of his memory?” I asked again.

  Kavenlow waved a distant greeting to Duncan. “Did Jeck tell you about the venom?” he asked, his eyes bright.

  I made a small face. “He implied it came from an animal of some kind.”

  He nodded. “It does. But he didn’t say anything else?” I shook my head, and he leaned close and whispered, “It’s rather special, Tess. I said I will shift Duncan’s memory, and that’s exactly what I can do.”

  Twenty-three

  I pulled my cloak tighter against the cold. MY bedroll was some distance from the fire, and the dampness of the ground had soaked into me. The princess was sleeping sweetly right before the coals, her sundry blankets—which she had haughtily told me she had purchased in Brenton—were strewn in a careless disarray. Kavenlow sat upon the log across the fire from her drinking his tea, keeping watch over us as we tried to sleep through the freezing spring night.

  Everyone had agreed a watch was necessary. Duncan and I were slated to stand together later, Thadd and Kavenlow again just before dawn. The princess had protested she could stand guard as well, and I found a perverse satisfaction in that Kavenlow told her to sleep. Only Kavenlow and I were resistant to Jeck’s darts; one of us would remain awake all night.

  I pulled my blanket to my chin, accidentally exposing my feet. I still had on my boots—just the thought of which made my lips curl—but it was either that or suffer all the more from the cold. My evening had been a frustrating mix of awkward hesitations and Kavenlow’s put-offs. All my requests that he explain his last words before we rejoined the camp had been brushed away with an infuriating, “Later.” Depressed, I sat up to tug my blanket down over my feet.

  “Can’t sleep, Tess?” Kavenlow said softly, and I met his eyes over the fire. “Come sit.”

  Freezing, I rose and, draped in my blankets and cloak, shuffled to where he made room for me on the log. “Is it later now?” I asked dryly.

  Kavenlow’s salt-and-pepper beard shifted as he smiled. Pulling a sheaf of wormwood from behind him, he threw it on the fire. A musty smell came up, tickling my nose and memory. My eyes shifted closed, then jerked open. “You didn’t burn it,” I said, snapping full awake.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “The gypsy. You didn’t beat her, you didn’t kill her horse, and you didn’t burn her van.”

  “No.” He poured a second cup. “Have some tea. It will help keep you awake.”

  I almost slopped the dark brew in excitement as he handed it to me. He wasn’t trying to lull me to sleep; he was making sure no one else woke up! “The gypsy is a player, isn’t she?” I asked, not caring to get my jar of honey for fear Kavenlow would make me share it with the princess in the morning.

  “She used to be.” Kavenlow watched the princess’s slow breathing. “She willingly handed her sphere of influence to her successor almost a decade ago. Now she wanders, acting as an arbitrator and judge over the rest of us. I don’t like her. Players don’t ever stop playing. They just use more powerful pieces.”

  I pushed my frozen toes up almost into the coals. “You took me to see her. Why?”

  He sipped his tea, his fingers still showing the ink from my last history lesson, black shadows the firelig
ht flickered against. “I took you as my apprentice long ago, but I never cared to present you to her before. It was nothing. Don’t waste time trying to find significance in it.”

  “She tested me,” I said, remembering it now. A shaft of anger colored my words. “She said I was lacking.”

  The wrinkles across his brow deepened, and he looked pained. “By her definition, you are lacking: you’d rather work to find a compromise than face a conflict directly, and though you can defend yourself, you can’t bring yourself to kill, even when you think it’s deserved.”

  Miserable, I lowered my cup to rest on my knees. How had he known I hadn’t been able to kill Garrett? “I’m no good at this, am I? That’s what she said. That you should start over.”

  Much to my astonishment, he put an arm across my shoulders and gave me a sideways hug. “Tess, you lack those abilities because that’s what I wanted my successor to be. I didn’t want a soldier. I wanted an intelligent, sophisticated, beautiful woman who would search for an answer rather than go in with arrows flying and swords flashing. Someone who could enslave with charm instead of chains.”

  I smiled weakly, and his arm fell away. “The game is changing,” he said. “The old methods aren’t going to work much longer. When opposing forces fight, there’re no choices. When one side refuses to fight, they have all the options. Your skills give you possibilities your competition will only wonder at. That bitter old woman doesn’t see that. She never will.”

  I failed to see it either, not reassured at all by Kavenlow’s proud smile. Despite what he said, I knew I had no skills. But then I wondered. Kavenlow had said he could shift Duncan’s memory. The gypsy had said the same about me, and Kavenlow had told her it wouldn’t work.

  Curious, I pulled my toes from the fire before my boots caught. “The gypsy,” I said, not sure I was remembering everything properly. “She asked me if I could ride a horse? And—if I had dreams? No. If my dreams came true.”

  Kavenlow started. “You remember all that? Tie me to a stake at low tide, I warned her you would.” Smiling past his beard, he threw a second sheaf of wormwood on the fire and fanned the smoke away. From behind us came a stomp from the horses.