Page 84 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess

“I don’t mind a little pain,” I reply.

“I apologize for my behavior, Princess,” he says, pulling up his pants. “And for what I said to you here, in this cave. I forgot myself.”

“You meant every word,” I say. “And you’ll be punished for it, trust me.”

He sighs, with a rueful half-smile. “Of course, my lady.”

“Now help me up. The floor is hard, even with this lumpy bit of cloak.”

We dress, and I say a prayer to Arawn before we head out of the cave. I pass Ducayne two cookies, and we munch our food in the mouth of the cave, inhaling the fresh air and watching the rain stream down, incessant.

On our ride back, we encounter my bodyguards. They are extremely peeved with me, and Penn is unusually bold about it; but I don’t chastise him as I normally would. My body feels good all over, but more than that—an ache in my heart is finally beginning to ease.

The ride back is more dangerous than I expected. In one place, what was once a creek is now a roaring river, and we have to ride upstream to find a bridge. The bridge itself is partly submerged. Another few hours, and the way back would have been impassable.

Two hours later, we arrive at the stables of the beach palace. I’m craving a hot bath in the big copper tub in my suite. Maybe I’ll have Ducayne join me, before I punish him for his earlier disrespect, and for thinking me a murderer.

Before we leave the stables, I latch the gold collar and leash around his throat again. He watches me with soft dark eyes while I do it, and his nearness makes my pulse quicken.

Yes, a bath with him will be just the thing.

But all my plans fly out of my head as we walk into the palace. There’s a panicked energy humming through the halls, people bustling around and muttering dolefully to one another.

I catch the sleeve of a passing servant. “What’s happened?”

“Oh, Your Highness! You’re safely back, thank the gods!”

“Yes, but what’s going on?”

She lifts a shaking hand, pointing toward the parlor. “Gods save your Highness. Gods save all of us. There’s been another murder.”

26

The body is the wind-wielder, Enzo.

Which means that he can’t push the storm out to sea, even if it shrinks to a size within his power. We are now helpless to the weather.

Crown Princess Vienne is in the parlor, staring at the body, with Imrissa and Bazra at her side.

“Unforgivable that he hung himself on that light fixture. It belonged to my grandmother. Designed to her exact specifications and decorated with Serinian blood crystals.” She sighs.

“What about the water-wielder, Your Highness?” I ask.

Vienne wheels around, fixing me with an incisive glare. “What about him?”

“Whoever killed Enzo wants to trap us at the palace. We encountered a crossing north of here that was nearly impassable. Are there other roads or fords nearby that might flood, cutting off our hope of leaving this place?”

One of the servants steps forward, nodding. “There’s the ford to the west, which floods in the spring and occasionally during the summer. And there’s the southern bridge to Oleyra, which can flood sometimes if we get too much rain.”

“Someone go and check on the water-wielder.” Vienne holds my gaze. “And take the healer with you. Have her repair the wielder’s hands if he isn’t dead yet.”

“Wielders are rare,” I say. “They should be treated with care.”

The silence that falls after my words is a deadly one, and in its grip, I realize my mistake.

I forgot my place. I spoke to the Crown Princess like an equal.

Playing the game of dice with the nobles and arguing with Ruelle made me feel like myself again. But I am not myself. I am a prisoner. A pleasure thrall. A slave.