Page 88 of Thorns and Echoes

She should have tried harder. Perhaps they could have recreated the scene where he had recognized her. What had it taken? She had said his name. She had pleaded for him to see her. She had touched him. What was she missing?

He didn't react at all when her fingers lighted on his arm. “I'm sorry.”

Then she spun to the door, steeled her voice, and walked out. “Follow me.”

If she had all the resources of the palace at hand, the words would never have been considered. But she was in an enemy city surrounded by a hostile army. Necessity. Practicality.

Yet her heart squeezed with the weight of betrayal.

In the alleyway, they lured and took down a small band of guards, quickly stripping them of their insignia and affixing it to themselves. The nine-pointed star decorated their wrists in strips of leather and cloth. Two helmets fit Jerome and Castien. Her captain’s splinted arm was a bit stiff, but the armor fit well enough.

Castien mechanically did everything he was told.

The guards and soldiers they passed didn't examine their armor too closely. They weaved between buildings, avoiding patrols whenever possible. Eventually, they exited an alley andspotted the northern gate. As expected, it was swarming with guards. A long crowd of travelers grumbled about the wait.

Vern once again glanced at the rooftops. She shook her head.

On both sides of the gate were guardhouses that tunneled through the thick walls to the outside. Wagons couldn't fit through those exits, and they were easily defended by one person.

She nodded toward the guardhouse on the right. Jerome led the way, pushing through the side of the busy street. The soldiers and guards paid them no attention. They almost made it.

The bright morning light glinted off a soldier’s armor just up ahead. Except it wasn't a soldier, and it wasn't armor. Perched atop a horse, surrounded by his people who kept the crowd at bay, was the prince of Akerami. And he was staring straight at her.

The prince grinned.

Anais tapped Jerome's shoulder. “Get him out! I'll go around! Castien, follow Vern. That is an order!”

There were times to debate her orders, and this was not one of them. Her Escorts dove through the crowd.

Prince Balak wheeled his horse around, guiding it through the crowd. He called out, “Greetings again, O most lovely Queen of Roses! Where might you be going in such a hurry? And where did your people run off to? Abandoning their monarch at such a time, how disgraceful.”

A squad of Nadraken soldiers on the other side of the street followed his eyes to her. The crowd backed away.

She drew her sword. “You seem a little lost, pirate. The docks are to the west. Hurry, and you might still catch your boat before it leaves without you.”

Balak leaped off his mount, his blades reflecting the sunlight as he landed. “I’d rather catch myself a rogue Queen. DearAnais, it was quite rude of you to leave me all tied up! We have unfinished business!”

The soldiers pushed through the crowd. Akeramian guards smoothly blocked their path. They couldn't hold all the soldiers back; more were coming from further ahead, and she had passed two squads behind.

First things first. She stepped forward. “I thought you’d enjoy some time alone in that particular position. You seemed to like it.”

The prince laughed. “But so much more enjoyable with you, sweet rose. It’s not too late. Unless you find me repulsive? Most women love me.” His words were casual – the swing of his sword was not.

“I'm afraid I'm already taken. You may not have heard of the concept.” He led with his right hand. She parried and struck at his left side.

“More like, I don't believe in the concept.” Gold glinted with his every motion. “The heart is a fickle thing. Your interest could change with the right motivation. How do I convince you, hm?”

Two blades could be better than one, but she had daggers. Vern had managed to recover most of her weapons, including a set of small throwing knives. Before the prince could recover, she flicked a wrist and sent a flurry of them at his legs, middle, and feet.

She said coldly, “You can't.”

The prince was a good dancer; she'd give him that much credit. Agile and light on his feet, he twisted away from two, knocked aside another pair, and, unfortunately, caught the last one in his thigh.

“Ah! That hurts! Why do you like to cut me so much, my dear? Oi! Where are you going? We’re not finished!”

She was already running. Two steps, three, jump. The prince’s horse reared. She caught the reins, squeezed her thighs,and jerked the animal around. Spears from the Akeramian guards lowered.

“Don't harm my horse, you idiots!”