“I found her after I left Wilmot’s cottage. He couldn’t catch her. You didn’t dare go near her, so I thought if I brought her back that would prove I’m the rightful royal monster hunter. That I’m worthy of training.”
“What happened?”
I shrug as I adjust Jacko on my shoulders. “She tricked me and nearly killed me. I got angry and sedated her, and I nearly killed her because she tried to fly and crashed. I realized that she was right to attack me—I was on her territory. I was wrong to get angry and even more wrong to try capturing her. So I apologized and left.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “After she hurt Wilmot, I went after her. I wanted to kill her for what she did to him. I saw her in that meadow, and I felt sick. Like you said, she didn’t do anything wrong. She was defending herself. Wilmot always said whatever happens to us, we can’t blame the monsters. They are doing what they do. Finding food, protecting territory, protecting their young…I never understood what he meant until I saw that pegasus.”
After a few steps, he glances over. “Which doesn’t mean you were right about the warakin.”
“Had to throw that in, didn’t you?”
He smiles. “Of course.” Then his face goes serious. “You thought it was about the two silver. It wasn’t. That beast is a proven menace. If I wounded him and drove him off and he came back and snatched a child, that would be my fault.”
“Then you were right to want to kill it. I didn’t know the whole story, though, so I was right to drive it off.”
“Agreed.”
“I have no idea what you two are talking about,” Alianor says. “But you were hand-feeding a pegasus, Rowan. It let you clean it. It let you pet it. It came to help you. You could have taken it. It’s yours.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Because you’re not a monster hunter,” I say, and Dain and I exchange a smile as we continue on.
* * *
We find a glade far enough away that we don’t need to worry about the jba-fofi popping up. As Dain starts a fire, I take out my feathers. They’re a little rumpled, but Alianor marvels at them. I don’t tell her this is what almost got her killed. It isn’t really. I climbed the tree to spy on her, not to get the feathers. We’d have disturbed the spiderlings even if I hadn’t gone after them. Or that’s what I tell myself, whether it’s entirely true or not.
It isn’t dawn yet. That seems impossible, considering how much we’ve done. But we escaped the camp not long after sundown, and while it might feel as if we’ve had two solid days of excitement, it really has only been one night.
“So,” Dain says to Alianor once the fire is going, “your father’s men set a trap for Princess Rowan. They took her captive…so you could free her, and your father could claim the glory. Rescuing a princess. That must be worth a reward.”
“Is that why you helped her?” she says.
“I’m a hunter, not a bandit.”
“And I didn’t do it for the reward either. I did it for my clan. To help with their negotiations. My father had nothing to do with the plan. He’s already at the castle. This was my idea.”
I shake my head as I pet Jacko. “Your plan? You expect us to believe that your father placed you in charge of a clan camp? How old are you?”
“Thirteen. It’s my brother’s camp. One of our scouts spotted you near the forest. That warg gives you away, princess. I came up with the idea. If it had succeeded, I’m sure Lanslet would have tried to take credit. Now that it’s failed…” She pokes a stick into the fire. “He’ll be sure to let Dad know it was all my idea.”
“Your brother still allowed it,” I say. “Which means he approved the plan. Despite the fact it was really, really stupid.”
She stiffens. “It was a perfectly sound plan. I didn’t expect…they say your brother is the smarter one.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m dumb. Just that Rhydd is very, very smart.”
“It was a cruel trick you played on the princess,” Dain says. “I heard what you did. You made her think someone was trapped in a crashed wagon.”
“A baby,” I say. “She knew I’d fall for that. She posed as a flower girl outside the castle, and I gave her that hair clip she’s wearing.”
“You—you took advantage of the princess’s kindness?” Dain sputters.
“It wasn’t like that.” Alianor’s face goes bright red. “Yes, I knew she was kind, and so I set a trap she’d fall for. But a safe trap. One where she wouldn’t be hurt.”
“One of your clansmen dragged me from the wagon by my hair,” I say. “He put a sack over my head—just as I saw a dozen armed warriors charging Malric. I thought they were going to kill my warg.”
Dain stands. “Enough of this. I’m surprised the princess didn’t let that spider devour you.”
He pulls his dagger so fast that Alianor gasps and scrambles to her feet.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dain says. “Not unless you try to run away again. I just don’t want you sharing my fire, acting like you’re a friend of the princess. You are not. You are her captive.”
“Wh-what?”
“We’re taking you to my mother,” I say. “You can explain what your father—”
“My father knew nothing about it. Please. I swear it.” Tears spring to her eyes. “It was stupid. I just…I wanted to help the negotiations. To show him I can help. You said my father would never leave a child in charge of a camp, but I’m the one who’s been in charge. Lanslet couldn’t lead a raid on a chicken coop. That doesn’t matter. He’ll still be the next warlord.”
“Because he’s older than you.”
“No. I have a sister who’s older than him. But girls can’t be warlords.”
I screw up my face. “Why not?”
“That isn’t how it works in my clan.”
“Well, that’s dumb.”
“I agree, but that’s the old way, your highness. Clan Bellamy women can fight. We can lead raids. But we can’t be warlords. It doesn’t matter if my father’s only son is a terrible leader. It doesn’t matter that my sister or I could do better. They won’t even consider us.”
“And you want your father to change that?”
It takes her a moment to answer, and when she does, she speaks carefully. “For now, I simply want him to listen to me. I want to be able to say that my brother is dangerous for our clan and have my father pay attention. To do that, I must prove myself. I’m sorry if you were hurt. I’m sorry if you were scared for your warg. We wouldn’t have injured him. We respect Clan Dacre.”
“That’s a fine way to show it,” Dain mutters.
“I want my warg,” I say. “Now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
lianor doesn’t dare just walk into camp and take Malric. Her brother would stop her. So we need to sneak him out. It’s too late to do this under cover of night. Dawn lights the sky as Alianor’s clansmen rise from sleep. As soon as everyone is awake, they’ll start cooking breakfast at the main campfire…which is right beside Malric.
Alianor leads us to a stand of trees near the camp. “I told Lanslet to cut these down if we were camping here. They’re the perfect spot for enemies to hide. He said Clan Bellamy has no enemies to fear.”
“I’m quite certain your clan has plenty of enemies,” I say.
“But none we need fear. That’s his point. Yet an unnecessary battle still means unnecessary injuries for our people. Lanslet doesn’t see that. He only sees the chance for a fight.”
She positions us where we can see the campfire through the tents.
“They’ll change guard soon,” Alianor says. “You need to get the warg before they do. The night guards are sleepy, and they’ll be easy for me to distract.”
Dain stays behind. He’s not thrilled about that, but three of us entering camp is too much. When Jacko tries to follow, Dain hoists him by the back of the neck and holds the jackalope with his claws and teeth out of str
iking distance. I don’t get far before Jacko stops struggling. It’s been a long night, and he’s little more than a baby. When I last catch sight of him, he’s dangling from Dain’s hand, his eyes already closing.
As Alianor and I approach the camp, I wonder if they’ve discovered their prisoner missing. Then I remind myself that their prisoner is supposed to be missing. No one will be alarmed to find my cage empty.
“They’re breaking camp,” Alianor says. “They can’t risk being seen here. They’re heading out and leaving clues suggesting it was slavers. That was my idea.”
She can’t keep a note of pride out of her voice. I’m not sure she truly realizes what she did. Yes, I told her I’d been scared. Yes, I said her clansmen dragged me by the hair and threatened my warg. But I feel like she thinks I’m exaggerating all that. It was still, in her mind, a reasonable plan.
As we approach camp, we split up. She tells me to wait until I hear her distraction. Then I can free Malric.
I hide behind a storage wagon at the edge of camp. No one guards it. You’d think bandits would know better, but I guess it’s like Alianor said—Clan Bellamy believes no one would dare steal from master thieves. I’m almost tempted to raid the wagon myself, to prove them wrong. There’s no time for that, though I do slip out a few apples as I wait.
I’m stuffing one last apple in my pocket when I hear Alianor calling for help, her footsteps thundering over the hard earth.
“Alianor?” someone says.
“It’s the princess.” She’s panting, out of breath. “Princess Rowan’s hurt. We were attacked by a jba-fofi spider in the forest. It bit her, and she’s paralyzed. I’ve tried to treat her, but I don’t know anything about giant spiders.”
Shouts follow. Shouts for the healer and a party of warriors to go with Alianor back to the princess. I sneak closer to the fire. Two men stand guard. They can hear the commotion but not the words. One says he’s going to see what’s going on. As soon as he leaves, a man running past tells the remaining guard he’s needed for a rescue party. He jogs off.
Malric is alone.
I hurry along the tents. Once I’m close enough, I peek out to be sure I haven’t missed a guard. I haven’t. They’re gone, and the way is clear. I still creep carefully, my sword in hand, gaze scanning my surroundings. The ruckus continues to my left, and the campfire area stays clear. That won’t last long. I need to hurry. Alianor said the chain binding Malric is fastened with a clasp. I just need to unscrew that, and he’ll be free.
Malric lies on the ground just ahead. Fast asleep. With all this noise? Is he still drugged?
Of course he is. They wouldn’t want to risk him attacking anyone.
I bend in front of his massive head. “Malric?” The rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s alive, but he doesn’t move. I lay my hand on his outstretched paw.
“Malric?”
I squeeze. He still doesn’t budge. I lift my hand to the chain on his collar. I’ll free him first, then wake him.
I unscrew the clasp. The chain falls and—
Malric leaps awake. Fangs grab my arm. When I yelp, he releases me and stares, blinking in confusion. Deeply sedated confusion.
Oh no.
I bend in front of him. “Malric? I need you to stand—”
He growls, his jowls vibrating. A thread of drool hangs from his lip. His eyes don’t focus.
“Malric? It’s Rowan. I’ve—”
Those gigantic jaws snap a finger’s breadth from my face. I fall back. He starts to rise, swaying as he does. He can only get his forequarters up, and he wobbles there, still growling.
“Malric, please. I’m trying to—”
“Princess,” says a voice behind me. “That’s funny. You don’t look poisoned. You do, however, look as if you’re trying to get your face bitten off by that warg.”
Still kneeling, I twist to look over my shoulder. My breath catches. It’s the young man from the wagon. The one who pretended to be a baby. The one who dragged me out by my hair and threw a sack over my head. He’s a few years older than me, with straight light-brown hair and a smile like Malric’s snarl.
I push to my feet and lift my sword, showing him I’m armed. He is, too. He holds a finely crafted sword with etching on the blade. A stolen heirloom, no doubt, taken from a noble family. From the way he lifts it, though, I can tell he knows how to use it. He also wears a tunic of hardened leather that doubles as simple armor.
“You don’t want to fight me, little princess,” he says. “I owe you for a cut from your dagger, and I repay my blood debts tenfold.”
He moves forward. I back up, my sword raised to block his blows.
“You tricked my sister, didn’t you? Pretended to be poisoned by a giant spider.”
Sister? This must be Lanslet, Alianor’s brother.
I shift my grip on my sword and think quickly. “Yes, I tricked your sister. I faked being paralyzed and then escaped. That’s fair, considering you two tricked me. Now we’re even, so I’ll take my warg and—”
“Do you really think that’ll work, little princess?”
I straighten. “Yes, because your plan failed. I won’t be telling my mother that Alianor rescued me. I won’t be telling her that I was captured by slavers. I know the truth, and Clan Bellamy can’t win my mother’s gratitude.”
Lanslet steps closer, looming over me. “Maybe I don’t want your mother’s gratitude, little princess. Maybe I want her throne.”
I laugh at that. I can’t help it. It’s entirely the wrong thing to do, though, which I realize as his face darkens.
“You say my plan failed,” he says. “It didn’t. It just needs an adjustment. One that ensures you never get the opportunity to tell your mother what happened. Apparently my sister did rescue you…only to have you succumb to your injuries on the way home.”
He lunges at me. I leap forward to counter, and that isn’t what he expects. Our swords clang. I dodge his next swing and come up on his other side. My sword strikes his arm. He never even flinches, just draws his sword back and—
An arrow hits his shoulder.
Lanslet snarls and plucks the arrow from his leather sleeve. He pauses to see where it came from, and I lunge. He retreats. Then he swings. I block, but his blow is too hard, and it sends me staggering backward. I manage to stay on my feet. His sword sails up, undercutting, and I spin fast.
Another arrow hits, this one striking Lanslet in the back. He stumbles, but again, it’s only lodged in his armor, and he comes out of it swinging. I dodge. His sword blade still slices through my tunic sleeve.
It takes only a few moments for me to realize I can’t win this fight. Lanslet is an expert swordsman, and he’s armored, and Dain’s arrows do nothing but distract him.
I hear Berinon’s voice at my ear, and he doesn’t need to whisper more than a word, because I already understand.
I am outmatched. I see that, and I must recognize it. I can’t be like Dad with those bullies. I must do what he couldn’t. Retreat. Flee.
I’m fighting for my life here. My actual life.
Yes, I was fighting for my life with the gryphon and the spider, too, but somehow, this is scarier. This is a person who wants to kill me. Murder me.
Lanslet swings again. His sword tip cuts more than fabric this time. Pain slices through my side. I duck and strike. I hit his leg, drawing blood, but that only enrages him and he comes at me even harder.
Run. Just run.
I would. I really would. I know I can’t win, and I’m not too proud to flee. But if I do, Lanslet will turn his fury on my warg—my heavily sedated, defenseless warg.
I abandoned Malric once. I will not do it again.
I swing. Lanslet counters with a blow that rings through my arm. I dodge and dance to the side. My foot strikes a stray fire log, and I stumble over it. Lanslet gives a grunt of satisfaction, his blue eyes lighting up as he—
A blur of motion behind him. Malric hits Lanslet square in the back. The young man goes
down with the warg on top of him. Malric’s teeth sink into Lanslet’s collarbone, ripping away the leather. Lanslet screeches, and running footsteps sound as someone shouts an alarm.
Lanslet rears up. Malric should be able to pin the young man. That’s what Jannah taught him. Never kill people. Subdue and pin them. But when Lanslet rears, Malric loses his grip. He slides off and then he stands there, his paws too far apart, as if struggling to stay upright.
He’s still sedated. We need to get out of here. Fast.
Lanslet rises, one hand to his bleeding shoulder. It’s his sword arm. He’s kept hold of his weapon, but when he lifts it, his face screws up in pain. He swings the blade at Malric. I counter with my sword. Then I give Malric a push away from the campfire, telling him to run. He teeters. I wrap my hand in the thick fur behind his head and drag him as he blunders along after me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “But we need to get out of here.”
I expect Lanslet to charge, but he’s turned toward the guards running our way. I drag Malric. The warg finds his footing and begins a stumbling run just as a clansman bursts from behind a tent. An arrow whizzes past, and the man pulls back. Malric and I run, covered by arrow fire.
“Get them!” Lanslet shouts.
“But—but that’s the princess,” the man says.
Lanslet snarls at him. I don’t hear what he says. We’re moving as fast as we can. Soon Malric is running full-out, and I am, too, as the noise from the camp fades behind us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
reach Dain and Jacko sooner than I expect. Dain left his post to get closer when the fight began, and he was almost to us by the time I started running. One clanswoman comes after us, but when she sees Dain and I both brandishing weapons—and Malric at our side—she thinks better of it and retreats.
I put Jacko on my shoulders, and we flee. When we’re safely away, we pause to regroup, and Malric snarls. Something’s coming through the trees. Dain pulls his sword and slips off to investigate before I can stop him. Malric and I stay where we are, the warg poised for attack, me ready with my sword.
A Royal Guide to Monster Slaying Page 16
