by Cheree Alsop
THIEF PRINCE
By Cheree L. Alsop
Copyright © 2012 by Cheree L. Alsop
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Cover Design by Andy Hair
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To my husband, Michael Alsop,
My own knight in shining armor,
Who has believed in me
Every step of the way.
To my family for their support,
For the laughter, love, and the
Endless adventures.
I love you!
Chapter 1
I stood out like a moth caught in a flight of butterflies. I accidentally stepped on my partner’s foot again, and he rolled his eyes. I wasn’t cut out for this crown princess stuff. By the end of the song, I’d managed to crush Crown Prince Trevin’s toes three more times. I couldn’t blame him when he turned without a word and made a beeline through the other dancers to where his sister, Kaerdra, and Princess Nyssa waited. Both princesses glanced at me and then laughed. I turned away before they could see my red cheeks.
The room was stuffy even though the dancing had just started. The Eskand servants had stoked the fires to a roaring ferocity before the royal gathering entered the ballroom. It was a relief to slip behind the thick, gold-embroidered curtains to one of the many balconies. My breath fogged in the chilly night air. It wasn’t surprising that the balcony was unoccupied. Behind me, a violinist played the beginning chords for a brisk waltz. The tune was quickly taken up by the other string players. Laughter and footsteps in time to the music followed.
I sighed and tried not to feel sorry for myself. A snowflake landed on my cheek and I brushed it angrily away. It was hard not to feel awkward around the beautiful, proper, perfect, stuck-up, shallow princes and princesses gathered for the winter celebration. It wasn’t their fault I didn’t fit in. It was mine.
I was the one who spent the summers making rounds with the healers and playing in the gardens instead of studying and training like my brother Rory. But back then, Mother and Father hadn’t seemed to mind that I ran as wild and free as the fillies in the fields below the castle. Because back then, everyone knew Rory would be Crown Prince. It was alright for them to look the other way when I hid from my tutors for the hundredth time so that I could learn swordsmanship from the guards. Captain Rurisk had even fashioned a sword my size.
I traced the calluses that had begun to fade along my palms since Rory got sick. I clenched my hands into fists, then dropped them to my sides, blinking rapidly to chase away the tears.
A brief rise of music and laughter announced that someone had entered the balcony. I didn’t have to turn around to recognize Father’s soft chuckle. “Here you are, Kit,” he said. He reached out to smooth my ruffled hair. “I missed you in there.”
I nodded but didn’t trust myself to speak until my emotions were under control.
Father guessed my thoughts. “Thinking about Rory?” he asked gently. At my silent nod, he squeezed my shoulder. “He’s going to be alright.” He sounded like he was trying to convince both of us.
For his sake, I didn’t argue. “It got stuffy in there,” I said, changing the subject.
He chuckled again. “The room or the people?”
This time I laughed. “That's a bit harsh. It’s not their fault I don’t fit in.”
“It’s not yours, either,” he replied. At my unconvinced glance, he ran a hand through his thick chestnut hair. Despite the latest fashion, he refused to tie it back. Shoulder length, it reminded me of a wild horse’s mane. He also hated to wear his crown for other than extremely formal occasions, so despite the fact that the other kings and queens wore their golden crowns with the jewels bearing their country’s colors, Father’s was still packed in his room. He shrugged, slightly abashed. “I should have followed your tutoring more closely, but I liked to see you without rules, especially when there wasn’t any reason to keep you in a schoolroom for hours on end.”
“No reason until now,” I said quietly. “Maybe I wouldn’t embarrass you and Mother if I’d been more attentive to my studies.”
“You’re not an embarrassment, and no one knew what the future would hold. Rory will get better, and then you won’t have the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders.” His expression brightened; his brown eyes, a shade lighter than mine, crinkled at the corners. “You should come back to the ballroom. There’s been an interesting turn of events.”
At his bemused expression, curiosity rose in my chest. “What turn of events?”
“The Antorans have arrived.”
Surprised, I stared past him at the purple curtain, wishing I could see through it. “How do they dare show up after all the raiding they’ve done?”
Father shook his head. “They shouldn’t have. If it wasn’t for honor, Crown Prince Andric’s entire party would have been killed the second he stepped into the room. He and his father have made plenty of enemies.” His eyebrows rose. “King Fayne didn’t come, but Prince Andric doesn’t seem too fazed by it. He’s very collected for someone his age.” He glanced at me. “He can’t be more than a year or two older than you, eighteen at the most.”
I nodded, remembering Tutor Farnon’s rushed course in social history. “He’s an only child, and lost his mother to sickness when he was twelve. The Antorans have been raiding the other countries for the past two years, and no one can catch them once they reach the mountains.”
Father held out his arm. “It’s a pity to waste such a beautiful evening out here in the cold and miss all the excitement. With your mother home tending to Rory, I need someone to keep me company.” He smiled down at me. “And there’s no other company I’d rather have.”
When we walked back into the ballroom, I saw the group of princes and princesses clustered in a circle talking and pointing not-so-discreetly at the other end of the room. A look in that direction revealed the one who had to be Prince Andric. He stood near the wall, his arms folded across his chest and his dark-eyed stare nonchalant as he gazed around the room. His dark brown hair was tied back in a simple warrior’s tail, and he wore loose robes of Antoran black and green. His eyes darted to us when we entered the room and lingered briefly on Father’s dress knife before dismissing us with the rest of the gathering.
Father’s surmise of Prince Andric seemed accurate. Though the other royalty in the room were obviously perturbed at his presence, he merely watched the dancers and sipped the honey-laced wine set out for refreshment.
His guards wore the same robes of Antoran black and green; the only difference between their attire and that of their prince was the gold medallion around Andric’s neck. The medallion held the biggest elder diamond I had ever seen. Considered one of the most prized possessions of Denbria, kings had gone to war for diamonds smaller than the one he wore.
The arrival of the Antorans created a chink in the festive evening. The ball wound down just past midnight, and I saw several dark stares thrown toward the prince as subdued par
tiers left to seek their rooms in the spacious palace. It seemed that though honor prevented them from physically making their hostility known, the kings and queens of Denbria weren’t about to pass up a chance to make him uncomfortable.
***
I couldn’t sleep. Though the huge bed could easily have fit ten girls my size, and the sheets and the feather mattress were very soft, I couldn’t get comfortable. The night sounds of the palace were foreign, and the wind whistled in different places than my room back home. I missed our gardens, though the snows had them locked in frozen beauty. I missed Phantom, the great black wolfhound that slept beside Rory’s bed waiting for him to get better. More nights than not I rested with my head pillowed on the faithful dog’s side as I waited with him.
I rose to dash away the escaped tears on my cheeks with lightly perfumed water from the pitcher on the side table when a knock on the door caught me by surprise. I grabbed an evening robe and hurried to the door. The servants slept in the smaller room between Father’s and mine, but I didn’t think it made sense to wake them just to answer the door. I pulled it open and looked down the hall, only to find that it was empty.
Confused, I turned to shut the door again when I noticed the small envelope at my feet. ‘Princess Kirit’ was written across it in an elegant hand. I frowned. Nobody who really knew me called me Kirit. Father had taken to calling me Kit when I was little and the name stuck.
I shut the door, took the envelope back to bed, and opened it in the light of the moon that shone through the glass windows. The message was simple, but in the same elegant handwriting from the front of the envelope. “An Invitation to All Crown Princes and Crown Princesses of Denbria: Prepare for a Night of Adventure and Meet beneath the King’s Living Spire.”
I smiled. It wasn’t a very hard riddle. King Trand’s great grandfather, son of the original ruler of Denbria, had planted an evergreen tree the day his son was born. The tree, now sheltering the same son’s final resting place from the merciless weather, towered above the other trees at the edge of the King’s Forest. Not too tricky, but considering the other princes and princesses, I figured that was probably a good idea.
A small burst of excitement filled me while I pulled on a pair of loose riding pants and a soft blue shirt with sleeves that were too big, as was the fashion. Fashion was never very convenient. At home, I would have just rolled them up, but I just shook my head and decided to live with it. I already doubted my choice to wear the riding pants. The other princesses would probably wear their frillery since the princes were also invited.
That was something I didn’t have to worry about, as attested to by the night’s dancing. Though I had been asked to dance several times by the princes, it was out of royal courtesy. Only the title of Crown made us the same. Before, I wasn’t destined to inherit one of the eight countries of Denbria. Now that Father had given me the temporary title of Crown Princess as Rory’s sickness worsened, the other Crowns didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t matter that I accepted the title grudgingly, believing and hoping that I would be giving it back to Rory as soon as he got better. They treated me like an imposter, and I felt like one.
For a moment I questioned whether I should accept the invitation at all. Then I argued that I would probably miss out on the only excitement the festival had to offer. My heart pounded faster as I fastened my blue cloak with the gold palm leaf clasp that was the symbol of our country.
Chapter 2
Kenyen and Danyen, the twin seventeen year old sword fighters from Tyn, were there before me, along with Landis of Faer and Tisha from Maesh. It was rumored that Landis’ and Tisha’s parents had already reached an agreement for their arranged marriage; they were holding hands when I stepped into the light of Danyen’s lantern. My breath fogged and I shivered in the early morning chill. We waited for the rest to appear, saving our questions until everyone was together.
The beautiful, fair skinned and auburn-haired Brynna of Eskand was next, followed closely by Nyssa in Veren’s royal purple and silver. Trevin and Kaerdra were last, siblings from Cren and duel heirs of the Crenian crown. It wasn’t often that a king granted both of his children heirships, but it was no secret that he planned to split his kingdom when the brother and sister were old enough to take over.
“What is she doing here?” Kaerdra asked; her tone indicated me even though she refused to look in my direction.
“She’s a Crown Princess, too,” Tisha said quietly. She threw me tentative smile. Landis gave her a pained look and brushed a stray strand of her curly blond hair behind her ear.
“She’s an imposter Crown,” Brynna said with a glare in my direction.
“Not by choice,” Tisha replied, her voice uncertain.
“Doesn’t matter,” Trevin said. His sister nodded in support. “She doesn’t have the training or the knowledge to lead her country properly. Rory knew what he was doing.”
A dark figure within the shadow of the pine caught my attention as I turned away to hide my cheeks that were bright red with embarrassment. My eyes adjusted from the shifting light of the lantern to starlit darkness, and I made out the form of the Prince of Antor watching us.
“What is the thief doing here?” Kenyen asked coldly when the Prince’s presence was noticed.
Andric walked toward us; the darkness separated slowly from his black clothing as if loath to relinquish him to the dim light. Only the gold medallion stood out against his chest. No outward expression betrayed any emotion he felt at what the Tyn Prince called him.
Nyssa sniffed and swept her hair back. “It’s not right that your father allowed this thief and his band of bandits to attend the winter festival,” she said to Brynna.
“Funny,” Andric replied with a wry twist of his lips.
“What is?” Nyssa was forced to ask when Andric didn’t embellish.
The Antoran Prince shrugged. “That you were so willing to accept my invitation.”
My heart slowed at the implication, but Nyssa merely stared at him.
“What are you talking about?” Landis growled.
The Prince’s dark eyes gleamed. “That’s my handwriting on the invitations you hold.”
A knot formed in my stomach and I glanced down at the card in my hand. The writing I had thought elegant before now looked ominous.
Andric caught my expression. “My mother felt that good penmanship was one of the qualities of a proper king.” He gave a simple gesture with one hand and dark shadows separated from the night to surround us. “My father stressed the importance of the element of surprise.”
I stared at him, unwilling to accept what my eyes saw. The dark shapes were soldiers in Antoran black and green, armed with swords and wicked-looking serrated daggers. “Are you kidnapping us?” I asked in amazement.
Andric nodded, his expression calm. “In a manner of speaking.” Another gesture and horses walked from the darkness. They were short and rugged with thick dusky fur that grew long around the hooves. They were already saddled but didn’t have bridles or any form of leading harness that I could see; they stopped beside us and waited.
Andric swung onto the mount closest to him. He then looked back at us. “It’ll be a much longer journey if you walk.” He spoke quietly, but in a tone that carried no room for argument.
I looked at the waiting guards and saw that we had no choice. I could fight them, but I was unarmed and couldn’t take down a dozen soldiers by myself. I highly doubted the other princes and princesses had any battle training. My best bet would be to survive and find a way to escape along the way. I gritted my teeth and took a step toward the nearest horse.
“You don’t really think we’re getting on those horses just because you say so,” Kaerdra snapped.
“Kaer,” Trevin said softly with a nod toward the guards. “I don’t think this is a good time to argue.”
Kaerdra turned to glare at the soldiers around us, her chest heaving. She looked like she wanted to argue, then gave up in a huff of breath that sho
wed white in the night air. “Fine, but you’ll be sorry when our father finds out about this.”
“I intend to be long gone by then,” Andric replied. His jaw tightened as his eyes searched the darkness of the palace walls.
I looked around at the guards and fought back a wave of panic when a soldier stepped toward me. I took a deep breath and leaped onto the closest horse. His hooves shifted under my weight, then he turned his head to sniff my fur-lined boots. They were soft and thick for short walks in the slight skiff of snow that covered the ground, definitely not meant for riding. I settled them in the stirrups and wondered how long they would last. The horse snorted softly as if he read my thoughts and I gave him a small smile.
“At least pretend like you’re unhappy about this,” Brynna said icily to me as she mounted the next horse. She tossed her auburn hair back. “Unless,” she said with a slight twist of her lips, “You want to run away. Goodness knows your country would be better off.”
I looked past her and tried to ignore the burning that reddened my face. The guards were already in their saddles and awaiting Andric’s orders. He nodded. “Let’s move.”
The horses started with a quick jolt that caught us by surprise. With no bridle for guidance, we were forced to hold onto the horses’ thick manes until we got used to the strange cadence of the mountain mounts. They didn’t gallop, but settled into a bone-jarring, mile-eating trot from which they didn’t seem to tire. I felt rattled after the first few minutes; I was used to the horses of the plains, the long-legged, smooth gaited striders that Father bred as a hobby and raced against Faer’s swift steeds.
My horse was fast and eager, but maintained his place in line without any guidance from me. I wondered who had trained them to obey so well. The other princes and princesses rode before and behind me in silence as they, too, struggled to adjust to the rugged animals.
