The Decoy Princess

by Dawn Cook

  My breath quickened as I retreated, hand atop the knife at my back. “Stay away. Both of you!” I demanded. The pounding of my heart was so loud, I was sure they could hear it.

  Thadd snorted. “I’m not touching her,” he said in his slow voice. “You’re on your own.”

  Duncan stopped his advance. “Well, she can’t go in like that,” he said, gesturing.

  Watching them warily, I relaxed. “The woods are rife with black string,” I said, recalling having seen the thorny vine in the brighter patches of forest. “It will dye anything black. I’ll go in with black hair . . .” My words trailed off as a thought took their place. “I could go in as a gypsy. We all could. Gypsies come into the capital to sell horses all the time, especially matched pairs.”

  “You don’t look like a gypsy,” Duncan protested. “And neither do I.”

  “Thadd almost does,” I said. “Give me a hot fire and three hours, and I’ll be a raven-haired beauty with a bad temper.”

  “You’re halfway there with the bad temper,” Duncan muttered, crossing his arms before him and taking a stance to look nearly unmovable. “And I’m not going to dye my hair to play gypsy. If you don’t put on those trousers, I’m not coming in with you.”

  “I don’t care if you come or not,” I lied, feeling a stab of worry. “Thadd and I can do this on our own. You can stay here with the wagon where it’s safe.”

  “Oh, I’m coming,” he said tightly. “But I’ll be behind you. You’re going to get caught if all you do is dye your hair and fake an accent, pretty little thief. I want to see that.”

  My eyes narrowed, but before I could say anything, Thadd interrupted. “Um, I’m not leaving Contessa’s statue,” he said in his somber voice. “We’re bringing the wagon with us.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed at the beginnings of a headache. Neither man was capable of taking direction. I would be better off darting them and tying them to a tree like goats than trying to find a plan that satisfied all their inane, sundry requirements.

  Ignoring Duncan’s increasingly barbed comments, I spent the remainder of the afternoon dying my hair and weaving strips of my red underskirt into it and the mane of the draft horse. It emulated the younger gypsies I had seen perfectly. I tied my two black horses to the back of the wagon with ropes stained red to signify they were for sale. I’d probably be all right unless I ran into real gypsies.

  Thadd was frantic about his statue, insisting he sit in the back with it instead of up front where he ought to be. I had found some prickle stick in my search for hair dye, and after rubbing it on his foot, he developed swollen, itchy welts. No one would be poking about in our wagon with his foot looking like that, and it was a good excuse for me to be driving.

  Surly and bad-tempered, Duncan watched us prepare to leave, claiming he would visit our heads on the palace gate tonight. And it was well past noon by the time I drove the wagon out from under the woods. The sun pressing down felt heavy after the chill shade of the trees. My toes were cold. Gypsies wouldn’t have boots, and I’d hidden mine under the hay with the statue. The closer we rattled to the sentries, the more nervous I became. I had my handful of darts, but the entire point was to get in with no one the wiser. The stone walls of my city loomed gray and cold. My pulse hammered. This isn’t going to work, I thought. Jeck would come out of the guardhouse, pin my arms to my sides, and drag me away.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Thadd as we neared the gates. He said nothing, and I turned to find the man gaping at the walls like a peasant. My shoulders slumped. I was on my own. I’d have to talk to the guard myself. If he had any brains at all, he would know my accent was false.

  “Ho there,” I murmured, pulling the horse to a stop as the guard came forward. He had dried food on his jacket, and I frowned. He wore my father’s colors, but I didn’t recognize him.

  “First time to the capital?” he said, his gaze flicking behind me to Thadd.

  Heart pounding, I turned in my seat. The sculptor was staring wide-eyed at the buildings, the people, everything. “For him,” I said, wrangling my tongue around the Rs. “He wants a surgeon to look at his foot afore Momia chops it off.”

  “It isn’t catching, is it?” the guard said, backing up.

  I shook my head, tucking my feet under my skirt as I realized they were a shade whiter than the rest of me. “Momia can’t cure it. Which street has a surgeon?”

  The guard smirked. “Five coppers,” he said, and I stared at him for a heartbeat before remembering to keep my eyes down. “Trading tax,” he added, grinning as a second guard came out of the guardhouse, blinking at the brighter light. “You want in, you pay the tax.”

  My stomach clenched. I had no money. “I burning-well told you I was here for a surgeon, not trading. The horses are for fetching city medicine.”

  Thadd threw five coins on the bench, and the guard took them, his grubby fingers grasping. “Go on,” the thieving sentry said. “You’re blocking the road. Stinking gypsies.”

  Nervous, I clicked at the horse and slapped the reins a shade too hard. Head bobbing, the animal ambled peacefully forward. Trading tax? I questioned as we passed the gates. Right into their pocket, I’d wager.

  “Does Duncan have money?” I asked as soon as we were out of earshot, not knowing why I cared. Thadd grunted an unknowing answer. I longed to turn and watch the gate but didn’t dare. Taking the first right I came to, I halted beside a smithy. I had made it past the gate despite Duncan’s dire predictions. Now, would he?

  The hot smell of the forge tickled my nose, and I wiggled my fingers at Thadd for my boots. His somber gaze roved over the narrow houses, the people, and the few open shops. There should have been masts showing above the roofs, but there were none. I felt sick, wanting to drive to the docks and see if Garrett had burned them to the waterline or if they had simply abandoned the harbor because of rumors.

  “I didn’t know you had money,” I said as my second heel thumped into a boot. “I’ll get it back to you when I can. There’s no such thing as a trading tax.” I reached for the water bag and handed it to him. “Better wash your foot. If you keep scratching, those welts will turn real.”

  He accepted the water, his wide back hunched as he sponged the irritating sap from him. I anxiously watched the top of the road for Duncan. The foot traffic was thin. Shops were open, though the stock looked scanty. The few people about were tense, getting what they needed and moving on. There was very little banter. The veneer of normalcy was thin.

  My nerves had me ready to bolt when I spotted Duncan’s jaunty profile at the top of the road. Relief slumped my shoulders. I whistled, and he turned on a heel to make his unhurried way to us. “Since when does the capital have a foot tax?” he asked when he was close enough.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had money?” I answered.

  Duncan froze. “Because you would have spent it on something stupid, like a bath.”

  “Baths aren’t stupid,” I snapped. “They keep your hair from falling out.”

  “Look,” he said belligerently, tugging on the hair showing from under his begrimed hat. “No bath.”

  My hands trembled. “All right,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’re here. Let’s get something to eat while I decide how to get into the palace.”

  Thadd silently dumped his water over the side of the wagon and shifted his work-hardened bulk to the front bench. He took the reins from me and got the horse moving. Duncan gripped the side of the wagon and, with a graceful motion, pulled himself over the edge. “Don’t you have a plan already?” he said as he knelt in the wagon’s bed behind Thadd and me.

  “Not yet,” I admitted. I felt my stringy hair, hating the greasy texture. I thought longingly of the bath I had bought but never gotten. “How much money do you have?”

  Duncan grew wary. “I’m not buying you a bath. It’s my seed money. I can’t start a game without it.”

  His words were laced with spite, and my worry flared to anger. “Why are you b
eing so mean to me?” I asked, turning to see him.

  “Because this stinks like a chu pit!” he exclaimed under his breath, brown eyes narrowed. “You should have gone with me and left this to sort itself out.”

  My brow rose. “That’s it?” I exclaimed. “That’s why you’ve been badgering me all day? You’re angry because I won’t leave her to be raped and killed so I can pursue a career cheating people with you?” Thadd clenched his jaw in mental anguish, and I added, “Pardon me for having a whisper of morals, but there’s nothing stopping you from leaving. Go on. Leave! Thadd and I will be fine.”

  I spun from him and stared straight ahead. My hands were clasped tight in my lap, and my throat closed. I didn’t need his help.

  I sensed, rather than saw, Duncan look between Thadd and me. “That’s not what I meant,” he finally said.

  “What did you mean, then!” I exclaimed. “Stop questioning my decisions or come up with something better!”

  “Contessa?” called a feminine voice across the street. “God save us. Tess?”

  My head turned. “Heather?” I cried, wiping my eyes and standing up as I saw her.

  Thadd pulled the horse to a stop, and Duncan grabbed my arm to keep me from falling.

  “Look at you!” my friend said as she ran across the street. “I was coming to see if anyone had picked up your circlet. I do it every day, hoping for news. Oh, pig feathers! You have a black eye? And what are you doing in the streets without Kavenlow—and in a wagon?”

  I lurched to the hard cobbles and touched my cheek. I had a black eye? Why hadn’t anyone told me? Heather reached us, and I gave her a hug. “Heather!” I exclaimed, almost crying. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  She pushed away, her red cheeks bunched as she beamed. “Well, why wouldn’t I be? I heard you arguing with”—she looked Duncan over appraisingly—“this man,” she continued, “and I knew it was you. I’ve heard you put a servant in his place enough times. Lord help me, who did that to your hair?”

  I glanced up at Duncan’s scowl. “He’s my friend, not a servant,” I said softly. She went to touch my eye, and when I pulled away, she plucked the sleeve of my dress instead.

  “I thought I threw this away,” she chattered, then gave me another breath-catching hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said as she pulled away, her eyes bright. “Why won’t they let anyone into the palace?” She ran her fingers over my greasy hair in dismay. “They said you’re getting married next month. I knew you weren’t. You can’t get married without me. And so soon!”

  “This is Duncan,” I said when she paused for breath. “And Thadd.”

  “Pleasure,” she said, her eyes darting from them to me. Then her eyes went back to Duncan, and I sighed. “Why won’t they let anyone in or out of the grounds?” she asked again. “The rumors put the king and queen dead. Then the next day they’re alive but you’re dead. But here you are! I don’t recognize any of the guards on the gate. They tried to tell me it’s practice to lock the gates when there’s foreign royalty on the grounds. I told them that was chu on my shoe and gave them what for. But you look all right, except for your black eye. Who hit you? Saints preserve you, you’re filthy! I hardly recognized you. How did you get that dirty?”

  “We need a place to rest,” I wedged in, starting to get depressed. “Do you know somewhere?”

  “My house,” she said breathlessly, touching my hair and making a face. “Oh, Tess. I don’t know if this will come out. It’s my parents’ house, actually. I’ll get you a bath. And a good meal.” She glanced at Duncan and Thadd. “And your man-friends, too. They both have horses, do they?” She gave me another hug. Her blue eyes were wide as she put me at arm’s length. “Heaven save you. Is that your red underskirt in your hair?”

  “Heather!” I exclaimed, embarrassed. “Can we go? We don’t want to be noticed.”

  Her mouth made an O of understanding. “You ran away? Shame on you! Prince Garrett was handsome enough.” She hesitated, dismay coming over her. “He wasn’t the one who hit you, was he? Why is it always the pretty ones who have the worst tempers?”

  “Um, it wasn’t him,” I said, and she looked at Thadd. “It wasn’t either of them, either.”

  “Help the princess into the wagon,” she said pertly, as if Thadd should have already.

  “Burning chu pits,” Duncan muttered. “Does the woman ever shut her mouth?”

  Thadd extended a thick hand, and I lurched up to sit beside him. Heather held a hand to her fair hair and pursed her lips until he offered her a hand as well. She sat next to me, adjusting her dress and she glancing at Duncan with the edge of her attention. “How long have you been out of the palace?” she asked again. “Thank heaven I found you. You shouldn’t be out alone.” She looked at Thadd. “Though I see you have a guard—of a sort.”

  “They aren’t guards,” I said dryly. “And I would have found you sooner, but I was at Saltwood and then Brenton.” She gasped, and I glanced behind us. The few people who had seen our reunion didn’t seem interested. “I was chasing Kavenlow and the real princess.”

  “Real princess? How . . .” Heather’s blue eyes opened wide, and she put her hands to mouth. “Oh, Tess,” she wailed. “You’re the real—”

  “No!” I cried, reaching past Thadd to cover her words. I felt the prick of tears. This was not what I needed.

  “But, Tess,” Heather said in a hushed voice as I pulled my hand away. “How?”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to take a bath and eat something. The horses have to be returned to the stables before someone recognizes them, and I have to figure out what Kavenlow would do.”

  Heather took a breath to demand I answer her, but years of taking direction were hard to overcome. Swallowing, she pointed down the street with a quivering finger. “There,” she said. “Turn left down there.” She forced a nervous smile. “I’ll get you a bath. And see you in some proper clothes, though I don’t know where, since the shops close early now. I’ll get you cleaned up, and you’ll see. You’re the princess, Tess. You are.”

  I closed my eyes as her prattling washed over me, both comforting and irritating. I could smell the smithy going distant behind us. The scent of cooking potatoes and fish was making me dizzy with hunger. I didn’t mind the stink of people, or that my dress was too tight, or my feet hurt from the pinch of my boots without stockings.

  It was hard, though, seeing Heather as I last saw her, rosy-cheeked and dressed in white. And even harder that she was treating me as if I was still the princess. Deep in my heart I knew I wasn’t.

  Twenty-eight

  The water was blessedly hot, and I slid downward until it threatened my nose.

  “Sit up, Tess,” Heather complained. “I’m not ready to rinse your hair yet.”

  My breath bubbled out as I straightened. Heather scrubbed at my scalp with a vengeance until it hurt. “What were you thinking?” she scolded. “You should have used that new dye from the docks. I would have picked some up for you. You had such nice hair. I may as well finish cutting it all off for you, now. We can say you had a fever. That, at least, is romantic.”

  “Mmmm,” I murmured, knowing her threat was idle.

  She wiped her hands on her skirt and turned to a bucket of waiting water. “Hold your breath,” she said as she dipped out a ladle.

  I leaned forward and closed my eyes as it cascaded over me, making me shiver.

  “Oh . . . dear,” she said slowly, and my eyes opened.

  “What?” I asked as the soap dripped into them. The harsh bubbles stung, and I waved my hand frantically for a towel.

  “Nothing,” she warbled, her voice a shade too high.

  A towel hit my hand, and I wiped my face. I squinted up at her. Her brow was pinched, and her blue eyes looked worried. A strand of my hair lay in the water, and my breath hissed in. It was red. The black had washed out to leave my hair the color of a fine roan horse. My eyes closed in misery. “It’s all right, Heather,”
I said, trying to find the strength to deal with this latest indignity. “Just rinse it the best you can.”

  Heather’s hand shook as she tilted my forehead back and poured a second ladle of water over me. Apart from her horrified silence, I could almost believe the last thirteen days were a nightmare and I was in the bathing room in the palace. My eyes opened. The sight of Kavenlow’s ring on a cord hanging from a hook brought it all back, and I slumped.

  Heather’s parents lived in one of the better sections of town, in a house, she had proudly explained, that she bought for them with her palace stipend. Right now, the two-story home was empty, since her parents had left the third night Prince Garrett’s guards had taken the streets. They had tried to convince Heather to go with them, but she stayed, claiming I’d need her.

  A flock of children ran chattering down the narrow lane between the houses, and I smiled. That was a sound I hadn’t heard in ages. A dog was with them, adding to the happy confusion. There had been no children in the palace since I had grown up. I thought the princess should do her best to remedy that. There should be laughter in the garden again.

  Heather dumped a third ladle, and I wiped the water from my eyes. “What’s the news from the palace?” I asked. Heather had pointedly kept to frivolous topics since I told her about Garrett killing my parents and my escape. She dealt with the uncomfortable by ignoring it—unless it was gossip, which she then talked about until everyone believed it true.

  She shook out my old dress, her pursed lips making it clear she wanted to throw it into the fire. “Officially?” she said as she folded the filthy thing up and set it carefully aside. “The Costenopolie guards that are usually in the streets have gone to inform the summer-festival guests that it will be a wedding instead of a betrothal. Unofficially, Prince Garrett has killed everyone and taken over the palace.” Her eyes dropped. “His guards are scavenging for livestock and food since the regular vendors aren’t coming in anymore. Most of the ships have left, too. The harbor’s almost deserted. There’s to be an announcement tonight in the large square.”