The Decoy Princess

by Dawn Cook

  Jeck made a show of tucking the shackles’ key into his pocket, his gaze roving over the crowd.

  The crowd’s noise swelled as the gates were unlocked. A guard mounted the wagon and slapped the reins. Neck sweating, the horse bolted from the crowd and into the dusky palace grounds. The ring of sentries before the crowd backed up to follow the wagon in. Thadd and Duncan were roughly pushed into motion. Jeck was the last to return. He looked over the crowd as the gate swung shut. The clank shocked through me, and my face went cold.

  “What do you want done with them, Captain?” one of the better-dressed guards asked.

  “Send word to Prince Garrett that we have them,” he said, his eyes on the crowd through the gates. “And find me a lever and hammer. I want to open that box.” Saying no more, Jeck strode after the wagon, that awful hat crushed in his grip and his cloak furling behind him. The guard’s fingers fumbled as he checked the lock on the gate and hurried to follow. Swords drawn, the remaining guards struck aggressive poses in the safety behind the gate.

  As if Jeck’s absence was a signal, the crowd surged past me. I stood rooted to the cobbles, bumped and jostled. Their noise grew ugly, and the soldiers threatened to stab through the bars. I backed up until the crush thinned. Almost unseeing, I turned and paced quickly down the road, feeling light and unreal. I had to get in there. Jeck would kill them both.

  The tree overhanging the wall wasn’t far, but it seemed to take forever. Shadows were thickening. The moon wouldn’t rise until late, giving me a smothering darkness until then. My attention alternated from the cobbles to the unbroken line the top of the wall made with the sky. I reached to touch my whip and then my knife as I looked for my tree.

  The lamps were being lit, and my feet slowed as I passed one. A bad feeling settled over me as I recognized this corner. I had burned Kavenlow’s note here. Confused, I spun to the line the wall made against the lighter sky. It stood unbroken, cold, and empty.

  My tree was gone.

  Shocked, I stood as if frozen. They had cut it down. They cut my tree down! An unreasonable anger flashed through me. How dare Jeck cut down my tree! That was my safe tree, the heart of my games with Kavenlow. It was as if he had killed a favorite pet. And how was I supposed to get in now?

  Frustrated and angry, I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the thin grass that eked out an existence where the stone wall met the cobbles. This wasn’t fair. I had to get in, rescue Duncan and Thadd, and save the princess. Jeck was ruining everything!

  I crossed my arms around my knees and fought between my desires to cry and rail at the wall. If I didn’t get in, Duncan and Thadd were going to die. Why hadn’t he listened to me?

  A cluster of jabbering people passed before me, faceless in the waning light. They ignored me as they would a beggar, and if I didn’t get over the wall, that’s just what I’d be. But how? It was built to withstand short sieges. A hundred men couldn’t take it.

  Hopelessness turned my heart black, worse than the night I had left my dog, Banner, to be kicked and beaten for his steadfast obedience. My tree was gone, probably no more than a stump. I couldn’t tie my rope around a stump.

  My head came up. “But Banner could,” I whispered. A hundred men couldn’t take the wall, but a lone woman might—if no one saw her. My eyes flicked across the empty street. Heart pounding, I took one of my preciously few darts from under my cap and stabbed it into my thigh. I grimaced at the sharp hurt, hating it. One dart wouldn’t lower my resistance too far, and I needed all the help I could find to remain unnoticed and convince Banner to do the impossible.

  I tugged my hat back on and looked up and down the street. It was quiet this far from the palace gate. I pulled my rope from my pack and re-coiled it loosely. There was a knot every arm length, and they bumped through my fingers.

  “Banner,” I whispered as I stood before the wall and closed my eyes. Now that I knew what the venom did, I could feel it, trace the tingling flow from where I had stabbed myself. I followed the sensation as it ran through my veins, settling on the space behind my eyes. It seemed as if my nose burned, and I willed the sensation to grow. “Banner?” I whispered again, thinking of sticks and bones, and games of fetch. “Banner, I’m back. Come play with me.” What if they had killed him?

  A muffled whine and a short bark from behind the wall set my heart racing. He was alive and free—and at the foot of the wall. It was working. It was really working!

  Remembering the quick feel of the mouse’s thoughts, I tried to slip into Banner’s. The impressions of the night seemed to fade, then strengthen when I found him, his paws shifting restlessly against the damp ground. Like a rising tide, his emotions ebbed into mine, twining in an uncomfortable slurry. I struggled to fit his impressions into a context I could relate to.

  He was far more complex than the mouse. Making sense of his view of the world was very much like composing poetry while hovering on the edge of sleep. My concentration wouldn’t hold, distracted by the process itself. Every time I managed to separate us enough to remember what I was trying to do, I would lose my place and have to start over. It was frustrating, and only the knowledge that I had done it before kept me trying.

  Slowly I began to understand. He was hungry. Hungry and wet. His hip hurt where he had slept on it, and one of his paws had a torn pad. But Banner’s drives were more complicated than a mouse’s want for food and warmth. He had the ability to reason, to learn to expect an outcome from a seemingly unrelated action. It was the ability to play that I had to exploit.

  He whined, and I found a twin sigh slipping from me. Frightened from so close a tie, my eyes flashed open. The sight of the smooth wall shocked me. I had half expected to see Banner’s tangled beard and rough coat. Checking to see that the end of the rope would uncoil properly, I flung as many loops as I could at the top of the wall.

  Grunting from the effort, I caught my balance and watched the rope arch up. It settled over the wall with a soft hush. “Take it, Banner,” I whispered, hoping the rope hung over the wall within his reach. “Take it and pull. Let’s play tug.” My hands tightened on the rope’s rough strands. “Take it from me, boy. Come on. Pull.”

  I held my breath as the knots bumped through my fingers in a series of jerks. He was doing it! Banner was a heavy dog, but his weight wouldn’t be enough to hold me. I had to get him to wrap the rope around the stump, if the Misdev guards were lazy and had left one.

  A faint roar from the gate rose, and I risked a glance at the street. I had my distraction, but what would be the price? Sealing my emotions away, I settled myself. This was going to be nigh impossible, even if Kavenlow had sensitized Banner to venom-induced instruction.

  “Banner,” I whispered to myself, imagining the shattered remains of my tree. “Bring me the rope. Come on, boy. I’m hiding behind the stump.”

  The thought of me crouched behind the stump made Banner go wild. He barked sharp and high in greeting. The rope went slack. I felt his paws shift in confusion, and his disappointment was so thick I felt guilty for trying to manipulate him. Shoving my heartache aside, I tried again. “Get the rope, Banner,” I whispered, forming the thought he ought to be quiet and take it in his teeth. “I’m hiding. Just around the stump. Bring me the rope, and we’ll play. Get your rope, Banner. Get your rope.”

  His confusion shifted to hope, and I reinforced the idea that only with the rope in his teeth would I praise him and tell him he was a good boy. I imagined he saw the corner of my heel disappearing just out of his sight around the stump. I heard an eager bark. My pulse hammered. He was so excited, I didn’t know if he had the rope or not.

  “Pull, Banner,” I said. “Come on. Try to take it from me.”

  I gave a tug on the rope. My heart sank as it moved freely. I pulled again until it held firm. Elated, my breath caught. I had taken up the slack, that was all. Banner had wrapped it around the stump. I hoped.

  My hands were sweaty as I gripped the rope. Lips moving in a si
lent prayer, I forced myself to trust Banner and my unseen work. The rope held as I put my weight upon it. I took a step up the wall, balancing against it and pulling myself up a step, then another. My arms ached at the strain and the faint lethargy from the venom, but I couldn’t stop.

  Up a man length, then another. My jaw ached from clenching it, and sweat dotted my forehead. My hands were cramping, and my arms felt like cloth. By the time I found the top, my pulse was racing. I tried to swing a leg over the top, but missed. The sudden pull of my weight on my shoulders drew a low cry from me.

  Banner barked a frantic greeting. I took a breath, wishing he would be still. Holding it, I flung my leg up and over, bruising my ankle through my boot. My breath exploded from me in a sob, but I lay straddling the wall. My cheek pressed against the cool rock as I caught my strength. My legs felt useless, and my arms were numb, but I’d made it.

  I looked down at the street, glad no one had seen me. Banner barked again—a playful, eager sound—and I turned toward the quiet palace. A stir of pride filled me until I saw my tree, cut and left to rot, its green leaves souring into decay. Nothing was left but an oozing three-foot stump—the stump my rope carelessly circled.

  There were no guards. Duncan’s distraction had worked.

  “Hey, Banner,” I whispered as he stood with his front paws against the wall. “Good boy. Just a moment. I’ll be right down.” The big dog’s tail whipped the ground.

  I pulled the rope up from the street, then dropped it into the garden. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and slid from the top of the wall. It was the most frightening thing I’d ever done.

  There was an instant of stomach-dropping motion. My eyes flew open as it seemed I should have hit the ground by now. With a shocking suddenness, the ground pushed my feet, jamming my knees into my chin. Stars exploded. I fell sideways. Pain throbbed in my hip and lip. I tasted blood; I must have bitten it. Banner covered my face with his tongue, and that, more than anything else, pulled me to a sitting position.

  “Down. Down, Banner,” I gasped, trying to fend him off. He would have nothing to do with my commands, both verbal and in his head. He covered me with his body, refusing to let me do more than sit up. My tears flowed as I gave him a long hug before I scooted backward to hide under a bush.

  He whined and fawned at my feet, and I ran my hands over his ears, telling him he was a good boy, the best dog anyone could have. His fur was matted with mud. His paws were caked with it. He stank like wet dog, and I breathed it, knowing he had already forgiven me for everything. “Good boy,” I said, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. “You’re a good boy.”

  Thirty-one

  Banner’s hunger-thin form vibrated as he growled at the sight of Garrett’s guards. I felt it through the arm I’d draped across his shoulders. He had clearly endured a hard time. His ribs showed, and his head looked too large for the rest of him. “Easy, Banner,” I soothed as I peeked out from under the bank of shrubs we were lying under, and his rumble turned into a plaintive tail thump. My fingers felt for the smooth finish of my dart tube. Kavenlow’s venom had filled very few of my darts, but I wouldn’t let them hurt Banner again.

  The palace grounds were a shambles. Garrett’s stolen livestock had been given free pasture of the gardens, churning the grass into mud and digging up the roots of the rare and delicate plants I had spent years tending. It was appalling, convincing me further that Garrett was an ill-mannered barbarian.

  Banner and I were overlooking a circular patio surrounded by budding roses. At the center stood the wagon and a flurry of guards. The horse had been taken to the stables, leaving Duncan and Thadd with their hands bound and metal shackles on their bare feet. There was no more pretence that they might be freed.

  Jeck stood unmoving directly across from them, his powerful outline obvious in the flickering torchlight. He had that gaudy hat on again, and the black feathers draped brokenly across the back of his neck. Even as I watched, he took it off, crushing it in a gloved hand. He looked irritated.

  In sharp contrast was Garrett. The prince’s motions were quick with excitement as he paced from one end of the patio to the other. His cape furled about his ankles, showing flashes of his elaborate outfit as he moved. He looked every bit the prince and desirable husband. I bitterly thought of how innocent I had been.

  My gaze rose to the dark tower. Kavenlow’s window was black, but a faint glow of light shone from my sitting room. I was sure Contessa was there, and I hoped she was well.

  A series of shouts and harsh scraping sounds broke the dusky silence, pulling my attention to the patio. Six guards wrestled with the box Thadd had carted halfway across the kingdom. It was heavy; Thadd worked in marble. Jeck stood well back. He was watching not the box but the surrounding area. I slowly let my held breath out, shivering in the chill.

  “Be careful!” Thadd said, his bound hands reaching out when the box thudded to the ground. The stone pavement under it cracked, and I could see his distress even from here. A guard cuffed him to be quiet, and only Duncan’s quick reactions kept the short man from going down. Another shove, and Duncan and Thadd were separated again.

  Garrett strode impatiently to the box. Banner growled at him. “Be still,” I whispered, thinking I’d like to bite the prince again, too, and his threat turned into a confused whine.

  “Get back!” Garrett shouted at the three sentries trailing him. “Your hovering is going to drive me insane. Get away, damn you all to hell!”

  The three men dropped back when Jeck raised a hand and took their place. “More torches,” Garrett said loudly. “I want to see the guttersnipe’s blood run when I ferret her out.”

  My face went slack. They thought I was in the box! That’s why they had ringed it. I closed my eyes in a long blink, thankful I hadn’t taken Duncan’s advice.

  Garrett paced as two sentries pried at the slats. “So this is how she planned on gaining the grounds,” Garrett said, sneering at Duncan and Thadd. “Not very clever, is she?”

  Jeck said nothing. His eyes continued to scan the surrounding grounds.

  “I don’t know why I pay you, Captain Jeck,” Garrett taunted. “You spent a week chasing a fool slip of a woman and couldn’t catch her. All it took me was some patience.”

  Jeck stiffened. His hand was never far from the opening of his jerkin, and I wondered if that was where he kept his dart pipe. The sentries returned with more torches, and Jeck pointed, placing them at the fringes of the circle. The patio was as brightly lit as if for a festival, and my stomach churned at the irony of it all.

  “Please,” Thadd begged as they levered the box upright. “Please be careful.”

  Garrett rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “See?” he chortled. “She’s in there.”

  I watched breathlessly while the guards continued to pry at the box with little success. Unable to take the suspense, Garrett strode forward. Snatching up an ax, he pushed a guard out of the way. With a grunt of effort, he swung it at the thick wood.

  “No!” Thadd shouted, lunging forward. I covered my mouth as four guards fell upon him, pinning him to the ground. Jeck didn’t move. He wasn’t watching Thadd, focused instead upon the edges of the circle. He was looking for me.

  Thadd struggled until he had a view of Garrett. He watched, horror etching his face while the prince beat upon the box. “I am surrounded by fools!” Garrett shouted as he swung again and again. The front of the box splintered with a frightening crack. He dropped the ax with a cry of victory and pulled at the shards of wood. Several guards grasped the edges, and with a cascade of sawdust, the front of the box fell apart.

  The patio went silent. The sawdust spilled from Princess Contessa’s statue, falling to reveal Thadd’s heartfelt tribute to the woman he loved. In the softness of evening, the pale folds of her dress looked light enough to drift in the breeze. She was holding a dove, her head tilted to show the graceful line of her neck and the fall of her hair. The vision held sway for three heartb
eats as all took in the vision of grace and beauty.

  Face ugly, Garrett drew his blade. “It’s not her!” he shouted, swinging it.

  “No! Don’t!” Thadd cried, desperately struggling to rise.

  Garrett’s blade hit the statue with a dull clank. My eyes widened as a fold of exquisitely carved stone broke away to crack the paving stones. Shocked, I glanced at Jeck. His lips were tight, and he had his hands on his hips. He gestured brusquely to one of the guards, and the man came close, unable to tear his gaze from the prince’s tantrum as Jeck whispered in his ear.

  “It should have been her!” Garrett exclaimed. Thadd bowed his head as Garrett’s blade hit the statue again and, with a sharp ping, broke. “Aargh!” Garrett shouted, flinging the broken hilt into the shrubbery. Furious, he strode to Thadd, still on the ground under the guards.

  “Where is she?” he shouted, pulling the man up as the sentries got off him. “Where?”

  “You’re a murdering dog,” Thadd said, almost weeping over the destruction of his life’s work. “I wouldn’t tell you before. I won’t tell you now.”

  Garrett reached for his sword. His hand slapped into his empty scabbard. Clearly furious for having forgotten he had broken it, he swung his fist into Thadd’s belly. The squat, powerfully built man doubled over, almost pulling the sentries down with his deadweight.

  Enraged, Garrett strode to Captain Jeck. “I want them questioned,” the prince all but spat. “Put the taller one on the rack first. We’ll find out where the guttersnipe is.”

  I put a hand to my mouth, deathly afraid for them. Beside me, Banner’s growling became audible.

  “There’s no rack, Prince Garrett,” Jeck said. “King Stephen didn’t use one.”

  “Then improvise something—Captain,” Garrett said caustically. “You, though, will go into the city and burn it street by street until she surrenders herself. She isn’t here.”