A Royal Guide to Monster Slaying

by Kelley Armstrong

  “Absolutely not,” she says, straightening. “These are mere thieves. Pickpockets and scoundrels. Clan Bellamy is a noble family of—”

  “Bandits.”

  Her face darkens. “They are a nomadic people who have learned special skills to survive in a harsh climate.”

  “Skills like springing locks? Picking pockets?”

  “They—” She pulls back. “I wouldn’t know. But these scoundrels are not from Clan Bellamy.”

  I head to the back of the tent. There, I lie on my stomach and lift the tent edge. Outside, it’s dark. Quiet, too.

  I watch for a few moments. When it stays quiet, I take my dagger and slice through the hide wall. The girl yelps softly.

  I look over at her. “Are you complaining because I’m damaging our captors’ tent?”

  “Of course not. Just be careful.”

  I peel back the newly created flap and push my head through. There’s another tent beside ours, but it’s dark and silent. I catch a pine-scented breeze coming in from my left, and I follow it to see the forest.

  I crawl through the flap. One slow look around. Then a step right. Away from the safety of the forest.

  The girl tries to grab my arm, but I keep walking. When I reach the edge of the tent, I peer around it. Far off to my left, a campfire burns. The glow of it lights up another tent. I peer into the sky to see the smoke swirling up at least twenty paces off. I turn the other way and squint into the darkness.

  A squeak sounds. Then a chattering drifts over from a wagon parked to my right.

  I start in that direction. When the girl reaches for me again, I duck around her and keep going. She tries to pull me back, but I brush her off.

  I reach the wagon. No one’s guarding it. In the distance, a figure stands with his back to us. I slit the hide cover on the wagon. Inside, it’s pitch-black, but Jacko chatters, letting me know he’s there. I climb onto the wheel and then wriggle through the ripped cover.

  I follow the jackalope’s chattering to a metal crate. It’s closed with a simple latch, which I undo, and he leaps into my arms. I comfort him as I climb out of the wagon.

  “There,” the girl says. “Now can we—”

  “I need my warg.”

  I keep Jacko in my arms, and to my relief, he actually stays quiet. I head back the way I came. The girl runs in front of me.

  “They’re holding him in the middle of camp,” she says. “Over by that bonfire.”

  I find the rising smoke and continue toward it. Once I’m near enough to smell the fire, I creep around a tent until I can see it. And there’s Malric. He’s wearing a collar chained to a wagon. He’s also sound asleep. Three men sit at the fire. There’s no way I can get to the warg without them seeing me.

  “I need to wake him,” I say. “He can easily break free. I’m sure he can.”

  “Which means he doesn’t sleep a natural slumber. Otherwise, he would break free. They’ve drugged him.”

  “I need to—” I begin.

  “He’s fine. There’s no way of getting to him. They haven’t hurt him, but if you wake him and he fights, they might need to.”

  I hesitate. She’s right. This situation is, I suspect, not as dangerous as it seems. But my captors won’t hesitate to kill Malric if he poses a threat.

  I already feared I’d lost him. As difficult as this is, I must accept he’s temporarily safe. Walk away for now, and return soon to free him. Very soon.

  * * *

  Once we’re away from camp, I march to a nearby outcropping of rock and climb it. From there, I can see the landscape. The Dunnian Woods is to our right. Then I spot a gnarled tree I recognize.

  I take off at a jog; the girl protesting as she follows. Sure enough, I find the road. Ahead, I see the hill where the wagon “crashed.” I root around at the roadside until I unearth my sword.

  The girl catches up as I buckle on my sheath.

  “Now we may go,” I say.

  She wants to head to the nearest village. I ignore her and climb a wooded hill right near the forest’s edge. At the top, I find a clearing and sit. She shivers as she lowers herself to the ground.

  “We should start a fire,” she says.

  “And let the smoke tell them where we’ve gone?” I shake my head.

  “We shouldn’t be in here,” she says. “These woods border the mountains. They’re full of monsters.”

  I stroke Jacko as he settles on my lap. “Then it’s a good thing you’re with the next royal monster hunter.”

  She dips her chin. “I’d heard that. My condolences on the loss of your aunt. Still, you are a hunter in training, and perhaps we shouldn’t stay inside these woods.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve been in here before. So have you, I suspect, in your journeys over the mountains.”

  She starts to protest.

  “You were going to tell me who you are,” I say. “Or did that change when I called your clan bandits?”

  Silence.

  “You’re Clan Bellamy,” I say. “And you are bandits. You waylay travelers and relieve them of their belongings. What else would you call that?”

  “A lesson,” she says hotly. “We teach them to better protect their goods. To hire guards to help protect them.”

  “Guards from Clan Bellamy?”

  “We can, as you said, cross the mountains. We may not hunt monsters, but we know the paths to avoid them. We share that knowledge for a price. Just as Clan Dacre shares its monster skills for a price…the price of a throne.”

  “The people chose that. We united the clans and offered them our services in return for the throne.”

  “As we offer our services in return for gold.”

  I snort. “After you’ve robbed people and shown them the need for protection. That would be like Clan Dacre capturing monsters in the mountains and freeing them in the villages.”

  When she opens her mouth, I cut her off. “I’m not arguing that Clan Bellamy doesn’t provide a service as mountain guides. It’s the raiding and thieving that’s the problem. Right now, though, my concern is you. You didn’t show up at my castle by accident. You were spying.”

  I expect her to deny it, but she raises her chin and says, “My father is about to negotiate with your mother, and he wanted a better understanding of the royal family. I gave him a good account. I said you were kind and generous. He was impressed.”

  “Your father?” I think fast. “So your father is Everard, Warlord of Clan Bellamy.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you would be?”

  “Alianor.”

  “So tell me, Alianor, why did you—?”

  Something moves deep in the forest. When I go still, Alianor turns to me. “Did you see something?”

  I peer into the darkness. Then I shrug. “Just trees blowing in the wind. Before we continue, though, I need a moment of privacy. I was in that cage a very long time.”

  After a pause, she realizes what I mean. She nods, and I slide Jacko off my lap. He hops quietly after me as I creep into the forest.

  Alianor’s busy looking down the hillside toward the encampment. I’m sure I saw someone in the forest. When I notice movement again, I duck into a cluster of bushes. A slender figure moves toward Alianor. A male figure. He stops and leans each way as if looking for me.

  When he turns, I hide again and watch him through the branches. His gaze travels past me. As he starts forward, he steps into a patch of light, illuminating his face.

  Dain.

  As soon as I wonder why he’s here, I know the answer. He must be working with the bandits. They didn’t just happen to find a royal princess tramping across the fields. Someone told them I was coming.

  I know it was Clan Bellamy that captured me. Take the princess captive and then have Alianor “free” me and win my mother’s gratitude before negotiations begin. Quite a plan. When we’d climbed onto this hill, I’d watched for one of Alianor’s clansmen to slip after us. None had. Because Dain was already nearby. Already wa
iting.

  He creeps toward Alianor. He’s noticed I’m gone, and he wants to speak to her privately. I slip after him. He’s still twenty paces from her when I charge. I hit him square in the back, and he lands face-first with an oomph.

  I try to pin him, but he’s twisting, and he manages to get onto his back and throw me aside. That’s when Jacko attacks. He jumps onto Dain’s face and digs his claws in, legs wrapped around Dain’s head.

  Dain yowls and tries to yank the jackalope off, but Jacko only grips harder. Then the jackalope squeals and jumps off. I think Dain bit his stomach, which is really rude. But I suppose if I had a jackalope on my face, I might do the same.

  Dain grabs my leg. I kick free. He starts to rise, but I jump onto his chest, forcing him down. He hits the side of my head, and my cloak hood falls back. I pin his arm and press my dagger to his throat.

  His lips curl in a snarl. Then he stops. “Princess?”

  “Don’t act surprised,” I say. “You knew exactly—”

  Jacko sails from nowhere. He lands on Dain’s lap and sinks his teeth into the boy’s stomach. Dain yelps and goes to throw the beast off, but I grab Jacko before he can.

  “Serves you right,” I say to Dain. “You bit him first.”

  “Because he was attached to my face.” He glowers at Jacko. “I should have known that’s what it was. Blasted jackalope.”

  “Good jackalope,” I say, scratching around his antler prongs. I lean down and croon, “Who’s my brave little guard-bunny?”

  Jacko purrs and rubs against my hand.

  Dain shakes his head. “That is the weirdest—Wait, where’s Malric?”

  “He’s fine. Just…temporarily absent. He—”

  “Tell me later. Right now, the important thing is that girl you’re with. She isn’t a friend. She’s—”

  “Alianor of Clan Bellamy. Her people took me captive, pretending to be slavers. Then Alianor pretended to rescue me. It’s a ruse to win my mother’s favor.”

  He stops and stares at me, blinking. Then he says, “Oh.”

  I peer down at him. “You really do think I’m a little fool, don’t you?”

  “No, I just thought…I thought you needed help.”

  “You were here to rescue me?”

  He squares his shoulders. “You’re the princess, and you were in the clutches of bandits. It is my duty to help.”

  I sigh and roll off him. “Could you stop helping me, please? First the warakin, and now this. One minute, I’m handling a crisis perfectly well. Then I have a hunter barging in, determined to rescue a princess who does not require rescuing. The only thing you’re doing, Dain, is making situations worse. Now, let’s talk to…”

  I look over at the spot where Alianor was sitting. It’s empty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  slap my dagger into Dain’s hand. “Take this. There, you’ve been compensated for the loss of the warakin. That’s worth more than two silver, so it also pays you for your ‘rescue.’ Now go. Please.”

  He shoves the dagger back at me. “I don’t want your dagger. Or your money. I spotted you at the cabin the day before last, and I was concerned. You don’t have a guard. So I followed you. I saw you taken captive while trying to help those villagers. I was figuring out how to rescue you when you escaped with that bandit girl. I knew she was up to something, so I tried to help—because it was the right thing to do. You’re the royal princess.”

  I eye him, looking for the lie in his words. He’s bristling with anger and honest indignation. Seeing that, my own anger evaporates.

  “Okay,” I say. “You had the best intentions. You just aren’t very good at this sort of thing.”

  He starts to sputter, but I cut him off.

  “I appreciate your help,” I say, “but you can go back to Wilmot. I have a bandit to catch.”

  “Why? You’re free. Just let her go.”

  I shake my head. “Her father had me kidnapped. I need to talk to her and get all the answers she can give.”

  He crosses his arms. “Okay, then, princess. Which way did she go?”

  I scour the hillside.

  He points at trampled grass and then strides in that direction. I hurry after him.

  * * *

  I spot the next sign—a broken twig. Dain pushes ahead until he sees a footprint in soft ground. A smeared footprint.

  I point left. He points straight on.

  “The footprint is smudged,” I whisper. “It shows she turned here.”

  “No, the ground is slippery. That smudge means she slipped here.”

  I march left. He growls in frustration and follows. We get about five paces before reaching thick bramble, no signs of recent passage.

  “So I was correct, princess?”

  “Yes.”

  We head straight on from where Alianor slipped but get no more than fifty paces before we hit another ambiguous sign. This time, it’s grass trodden in two directions. One is Alianor. One must be some other creature passing through.

  I say that the signs to our right look old, that the grass is already springing back up. Dain disagrees. I let him have this one. We turn right…and discover we’re wrong and need to backtrack again.

  We track Alianor for another hundred paces—while fighting to be in the lead—before I pluck at Dain’s sleeve.

  “This isn’t working,” I say. “We’re both trying to prove we can track. Competing is slowing us down.”

  He’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “You’re right. As the royal monster hunter, you should lead.”

  I shake my head. “You’re better at tracking. I’ll watch and learn.” I pause. “Though if you’re mistaken, I’ll mention it.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he says, but his lips curve in a faint smile. He walks a few steps. Then he slows and glances over his shoulder. “You were doing a good job.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and we continue on.

  * * *

  We catch up to Alianor. In trying to be sneaky, she’d headed deeper into the forest. I presume she was going to loop around the hill and head back to camp, but at some point, she lost her way.

  I can’t blame her for that. Clan Bellamy are able to guide travelers through monster-free routes because they use those routes themselves. They know them. They don’t know this forest.

  Eventually, we spot her up ahead, where she’s slumped at the foot of a tree.

  “Taking a break?” Dain murmurs with a shake of his head.

  “She must realize she’s lost,” I say. “She figures she’s safely away from us by now, so she’s waiting for daylight. It’s what I’d do.”

  He considers and then nods. “All right. Of course, it’d be even smarter to—”

  “Climb a tree and see where she is?” I stop myself. “Sorry. That’s showing off again, isn’t it?”

  That faint smile again. “It might be. But I think I started it.” He peers around. “We’re hours from sunrise. We should leave her for now and find higher ground to assess the situation. She isn’t going anywhere.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  n this part of the forest, “higher ground” means a tree. Our goal is to scope out the landscape around Alianor and plot our approach. We want to take her captive and question her. Her father kidnapped a princess, and my mother must know that. We can’t just say I’m safe, therefore no harm’s been done.

  My plan is to question her and then march her back to the castle. When I tell Dain, he considers it, which tells me I’m making progress—at least he doesn’t jump right in to tell me my plan won’t work.

  “Come morning, there will be an entire bandit clan hunting for their warlord’s daughter,” he says. “I’m not sure we want to haul her on a three-day ride.” When I open my mouth to protest, he says, “Let’s see how it goes. The important thing is getting her confession.”

  I find a big oak tree and set my pack at the base.

  Dain looks up it. “This doesn’t have enough branches. We can’t…”<
br />
  I’m already on the first branch, climbing to the second.

  “You can stay down there with Jacko.” I wave at the jackalope, who circles the trunk as he searches for a way up.

  Dain grabs the lowest branch and heaves himself onto it. Jacko starts leaping and squeaking.

  Dain looks down at the jackalope. “You need a rope to tie him down. Also possibly a muzzle.”

  “That would be wrong.”

  He watches Jacko bounding, each leap taking him a little closer to the tree limb…which remains at least two feet out of his reach.

  “Gotta admire his perseverance,” I say.

  “Or his stupidity.”

  The jackalope hunkers down, leaps as high as he can…and sinks his teeth into Dain’s boot.

  “You know I can’t feel that, right?” Dain says.

  Jacko latches on with his claws, pulls himself onto the boot and sinks his teeth into Dain’s calf. Dain cuts off a yelp, slapping his hand over his mouth. I climb down and rescue my jackalope before he goes flying from a kicked foot.

  I settle Jacko onto my shoulders and resume climbing. Dain struggles to follow.

  “You can stay down there,” I say, as he tries to figure out how to get onto a branch.

  “I’m fine, princess.”

  “My name is Rowan.”

  “And you’re a princess. One form of address takes precedence over the other.”

  Before I can answer, Jacko starts to slip, and I straighten to rearrange him before climbing again.

  “Are you sure you aren’t part monkey?” Dain calls up.

  I keep going until I’m almost where I want to be. Then the moonlight dances through the leaves, illuminating something overhead, and I go still.

  “Princess?” Alarm sparks in Dain’s voice. When I don’t answer, he says, “Ro—” Then he spots me and stops.

  “See, you can say my name,” I say.

  “No, I was calling the jackalope.” Dain’s head appears, at least five branches down. “Rodent. I called him a rodent.”

  An acorn bops off Dain’s nose. “Hey!”