Page 25

James heeled Maven into a swift canter, trusting his tall mare to keep her footing as he wove down the narrow road, the late-afternoon sun doing little to cut through the canopy of trees overhead.

He’d had a look at the second body before he’d left Verwyrd. Not in a bucket, but near to it, for every bone was broken. The skull was caved in, though the man’s face had been broadly intact, gray eyes staring up at James before he’d covered the corpse with a tarp and ordered it buried.

It was the Amaridians, he told himself for the hundredth time. Katarina growing desperate, that’s all.

Except that wasn’t what his instincts were telling him.

The scent of woodfire and cooking food tickled his nose, and he drove Maven for more speed. The hamlet of Thistleford appeared as he rounded a bend. It was formed of only a dozen buildings, mostly businesses that served the surrounding farms, and it was quiet but for the inn with the adjoining alehouse. Lute music and the raucous singing of drunks drifted over the creek. Crossing the narrow bridge, James slowed his horse to a trot and stopped in front of the inn. As he dismounted, the stable boy scurried around from the back, taking the reins.

“Want me to put her in a stall, my lord?”

“Just take her for a walk and let her graze, Jack.” He slipped the boy a copper coin. “I won’t be long.”

Jack nodded, but James didn’t miss the smirk the boy cast him as he led the black mare away. Taking the steps two at a time, he opened the door. The smell of beef stew and freshly baked bread hit him in the face, along with the stink of years of ale splashed over floorboards.

The regulars all recognized him and pulled off their caps, nodding at James respectfully—he’d long ago trained them not to rise. Elsie set down tankards on a table, her brow furrowing at the sight of him, though she swiftly recovered with a smile. Setting down her tray on the bar, she muttered to the innkeeper, Charlie, to cover for her, then sauntered across the room toward James. “Well, this is a welcome surprise, Your Highness. We’d all heard that you had quite a spell of adventure retrieving the Ithicanian princess. Decided you needed some respite from her graces?”

Her accent was a flawless replica of those common to these hamlets and the surrounding farms, as was Charlie’s when he deigned to speak a few words. “Something like that,” James answered, allowing Elsie to slip her arms around his waist. “But I cannot linger.”

Her pink lips pouted, the lashes surrounding her golden-brown eyes fluttering. “Then we’ll have to make the most of the time you have, my lord.”

He made a noncommittal noise, ignoring the grins of the regulars as she led him toward the stairs. They were too narrow to walk up side by side, and Elsie slipped behind him, fingers toying with his belt as they climbed. As they reached the top, she slid around him and then pushed him against the wall, full breasts pressing against his chest. “Miss me, Jamie?”

She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and James turned his head so that her lips landed on his jaw. “Is he back?”

She was silent for a long moment. “You’re not to meet for another week.”

“Can’t wait.”

“And here I thought you’d come to your senses and abandoned all that nonsense about not mixing business and pleasure.”

“It was never just pleasure for you, Elsie,” he said. “It’s always been business.”

She’d been his lover for almost a year before he’d learned she was also an agent of his uncle, and he’d never forgiven the deception despite understanding the necessity.

Sighing, Elsie said, “True. But I miss your fingers almost as much as I miss your cock, Jamie. Not yet found anyone who quite measures up.”

“My condolences. Now, is he here or not?”

She huffed out a breath. “Yeah.”

Twisting away, Elsie led him down the hallway, and then used the key in her skirt pocket to unlock the usual door. Closing and locking it behind them, she edged past the bed to a door that led to the neighboring room, knocking her knuckles against it. “He’s a week early, Cormac.”

A lock flipped on the far side, the door swinging open. Elsie flopped backward onto the bed, glaring at James as he walked through the door, shutting it behind himself.

Only to find a knife blade pressed against his throat. “It’s me, Uncle.”

Amber eyes framed by deep crow’s-feet bored into his for a long moment before his uncle lowered the blade. “We make plans for a reason, boy. There are a good number of people in this kingdom who’d be happy to see me dead.”

“I think you know why it couldn’t wait.”

His uncle grunted, moving across the room to the pair of chairs where he held court with his network of agents and spies. He was as big as James was himself, though age had stooped his shoulders and grayed his hair.

“It’s about the woman, I assume.”

“Was it you?”

Cormac sat in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him. “Yes.”

Fury raged through him, his suspicions confirmed, and James balled his hands into fists as he struggled to keep from lashing out. “I said I’d take care of it.”

“Aye.” His uncle toyed with an amulet of the family constellation around his neck, the only nod to astromancy that he kept on his person while in Harendell. Even wearing one was bold. Cardiffians had been burned at the stake for less, albeit usually women. “But you haven’t, have you? You got complacent in the years when it seemed Ithicana wouldn’t give their princess up. All words of certainty that your father wanted this alliance as much as we do, that good King Eddie would break the betrothal if it came to it, but you were wrong. Quick like a fox, he sent you to retrieve the princess, and it was all, Uncle, I’ll deal with it. The marriage won’t happen. Yet lo and behold, who arrives in that carriage with you but those long legs I saw in Sableton.”

“And you thought that gave you license to send assassins into my family home to kill her?” James was shaking, every part of him demanding violence, unable to forget the image of Ahnna lying limp in his arms.

His uncle shrugged. “Thought I was doing you a favor.”

“By assassinating Aren Kertell’s twin sister beneath our roof? Do you have any idea the fallout that would come from her death?”

“What fallout? Ithicana thinks Katarina has murder in her heart, and with the pretty picture we painted, they’d have believed the third time was the charm. But word is that it was you who fucked it all up. Makes me wonder if you are getting cold feet, boy. Makes me wonder if you’re turning your back on your mother’s blood in favor of the snake charmers to the south.”

James’s anger burned hotter. “Fuck you, Uncle. I’ve dedicated my life to making things right between Cardiff and Harendell. To seeing my mother’s dream made reality.”

“Aye, and there was a time when Eddie took these meetings with me, insisting that his life’s work would be to see Siobhan’s dream made reality, yet it seems time heals even shattered hearts. Your father appears content to play both sides, promising the same thing to two different kings.”

James growled, “He’s promised Ithicana nothing but a marriage. And it won’t happen. William isn’t going to marry her. He can’t stand her, and you know Alexandra’s views on the matter.”

“Then why is the princess here? Why is Eddie claiming a marriage is imminent?”

“Because he’s concerned that if we send her back, Aren will use her to make an alliance with Katarina. Wed her to the crown prince.”

“Marry her to the Beast?” Cormac laughed harshly. “Seems unlikely. Carlo’s already been through three brides, so any union via marriage would be short-lived, and Aren has only one sister.”

James bristled, hating the very idea of it. “With tensions high with Amarid, it’s not a risk my father is willing to take. Keeping Ahnna here means that Ithicana sending her to Amarid isn’t an option.”

“If Aren is desperate enough to marry his twin to the Beast, then he’s weak. Too weak to make a good ally, for he can do naught but levy tolls on his bridge and hurl rocks from Northwatch. If you want your merchants crossing the border into Cardiff without risking their lives, then send her back. Or I’ll deal with her.”

In two strides, James crossed the space between them, his hands slamming into the chair his uncle sat upon, knocking it over backward. Driving his boot heel down on his uncle’s chest, James said, “If you or yours step foot in Verwyrd or harm Ahnna Kertell, I will personally cut off your hands for the slight. This is my ground, Uncle, and nothing happens without my say. I intend to see my mother’s wishes through, but you need not be alive for that to occur. And knowing my uncle Ronan as I do, he would gladly sacrifice a brother for the sake of gaining Harendell’s favor.”

Though the pressure of James’s boot had to hurt, his uncle chuckled. “There are times all I see is the courtier and I fear Edward’s blood has claimed you, boy. It pleases me to see my sister’s eyes looking back at me from your face, the old blood strong in you. It gives me faith in you, so I will abide by your wishes and leave the princess be. But if this marriage occurs…”

“It won’t.” James stepped back, watching his uncle ease to his feet. “I will handle Ahnna, but while I do, she is under my protection.”

His uncle righted his chair, expression considering. “You have your mother’s fire, Jamie. But also your father’s foolery. Let Siobhan’s blood win out.”

Not answering, James strode to the door, but as his hand fell on the handle, Cormac said, “Speaking of Ronan and of princesses, how fares your cousin? How is Lestara?”