in Garrett’s footsteps. My fingers pried at his grip as Jeck pushed me stumbling through the door and into the hallway. It was quiet, with only one Misdev soldier standing guard. There was a soft shuffle as the old guard followed us out and closed the door to the solarium.
Garrett was disappearing around a corner, flanked by two of his own. I twisted, stomping on Jeck’s foot. He grunted, his grip tightening on my arm. I went still. As his fingers loosened, I jammed my elbow into his gut, and his breath whooshed out. “Hold her,” Jeck gasped, and the old guard grabbed my shoulders.
“Squirmy little thing, isn’t she?” he said, then yelped when I lunged at him, only to be yanked back before I could reach his eyes. The third man laughed until Jeck barked at him to be silent.
As I fought to get free, Jeck wrenched my arms behind my back and bound my wrists with the black scarf he took from his waist. “Let me go!” I demanded, the pain from my shoulders making tears start.
My hands were sticky from my mother’s blood. It felt awful.
“Hold still,” Jeck muttered, jerking me roughly around and flinging me over his shoulder.
Outraged, I kicked my bare feet at nothing. Jeck gave a little hop, resettling me as if I was a sack of salted fish. His shoulder cut into me, and I struggled for air. “Get the room cleaned,” Jeck said tersely.
“Bury the bodies in the garden. Make it deep enough so the dogs don’t dig them up. I’ve got her all right.”
“I said, let me—go,” I wheezed, feeling my face redden as Jeck started down the hallway. “Put me down. You’re a coward. A lackey for a spineless, gutless excuse of a man. Garrett is seaweed caught on my boat’s keel. He’ll kill you as quick as that soldier. He’s a cur. A—”
Jeck turned the corner and shifted me from his shoulder to the floor. I made a tiny shriek as I slid from him, struggling to keep from falling while I found my balance. The hallway was empty, and I pressed against the wall in fear as Jeck stood before me. His arms were as strong and muscled as if he pulled nets all his life. His brown eyes were cold, and his jaw clenched under his closely cropped beard. He smelled like horse, and my mother’s blood on my nightdress stained his shoulder. “Why did he kill my man?” he asked in a whisper.
“W-what?” I stammered, my fear faltering in surprise. He reached out, and a gasp slipped from me as he pinned me against the wall. The stones were cold on my back.
“Why did Prince Garrett kill my best swordsman?” he asked again.
My chin trembled. I wasn’t the princess. If that became common knowledge, Garrett would kill me and use the real princess despite the problems of ill confidence it might instill.
Jeck saw my fear, and he jerked me up to push me back into the wall again. I bit my lip, refusing to cry out again as the stone hurt my shoulder. The man looked only a few years older than I was. He must be brutal to have gained captain so quickly.
“Tell me, Princess,” he whispered, glancing down the empty hall. “King Edmund’s second son is reckless. Ambitious, but reckless. I want to get out of this alive. If I like what I hear… I’ll let you escape.”
Hope warred with common sense. Hope won. “Prince Garrett killed him because he knew I wasn’t the crown princess,” I stammered.
Jeck’s face went still. I felt three pounding heartbeats, and then he breathed, “The real one is on the road from Bird Island. The devil takes my soul. Who else knows?” I said nothing, and he shook me until my head snapped back. “Who else?” he demanded.
“The chancellor and the real princess,” I blurted, frightened. I waited, hope making me hold my breath. He shook his head at my unspoken question. Despair took me. He wasn’t going to let me go.
“No! Please!” I begged as he bent, grasping me about the waist and flinging me over his shoulder again.
I cried and cursed, filling his ear with the foulest language I
Garrett was disappearing around a corner, flanked by two of his own. I twisted, stomping on Jeck’s foot. He grunted, his grip tightening on my arm. I went still. As his fingers loosened, I jammed my elbow into his gut, and his breath whooshed out. “Hold her,” Jeck gasped, and the old guard grabbed my shoulders.
“Squirmy little thing, isn’t she?” he said, then yelped when I lunged at him, only to be yanked back before I could reach his eyes. The third man laughed until Jeck barked at him to be silent.
As I fought to get free, Jeck wrenched my arms behind my back and bound my wrists with the black scarf he took from his waist. “Let me go!” I demanded, the pain from my shoulders making tears start.
My hands were sticky from my mother’s blood. It felt awful.
“Hold still,” Jeck muttered, jerking me roughly around and flinging me over his shoulder.
Outraged, I kicked my bare feet at nothing. Jeck gave a little hop, resettling me as if I was a sack of salted fish. His shoulder cut into me, and I struggled for air. “Get the room cleaned,” Jeck said tersely.
“Bury the bodies in the garden. Make it deep enough so the dogs don’t dig them up. I’ve got her all right.”
“I said, let me—go,” I wheezed, feeling my face redden as Jeck started down the hallway. “Put me down. You’re a coward. A lackey for a spineless, gutless excuse of a man. Garrett is seaweed caught on my boat’s keel. He’ll kill you as quick as that soldier. He’s a cur. A—”
Jeck turned the corner and shifted me from his shoulder to the floor. I made a tiny shriek as I slid from him, struggling to keep from falling while I found my balance. The hallway was empty, and I pressed against the wall in fear as Jeck stood before me. His arms were as strong and muscled as if he pulled nets all his life. His brown eyes were cold, and his jaw clenched under his closely cropped beard. He smelled like horse, and my mother’s blood on my nightdress stained his shoulder. “Why did he kill my man?” he asked in a whisper.
“W-what?” I stammered, my fear faltering in surprise. He reached out, and a gasp slipped from me as he pinned me against the wall. The stones were cold on my back.
“Why did Prince Garrett kill my best swordsman?” he asked again.
My chin trembled. I wasn’t the princess. If that became common knowledge, Garrett would kill me and use the real princess despite the problems of ill confidence it might instill.
Jeck saw my fear, and he jerked me up to push me back into the wall again. I bit my lip, refusing to cry out again as the stone hurt my shoulder. The man looked only a few years older than I was. He must be brutal to have gained captain so quickly.
“Tell me, Princess,” he whispered, glancing down the empty hall. “King Edmund’s second son is reckless. Ambitious, but reckless. I want to get out of this alive. If I like what I hear… I’ll let you escape.”
Hope warred with common sense. Hope won. “Prince Garrett killed him because he knew I wasn’t the crown princess,” I stammered.
Jeck’s face went still. I felt three pounding heartbeats, and then he breathed, “The real one is on the road from Bird Island. The devil takes my soul. Who else knows?” I said nothing, and he shook me until my head snapped back. “Who else?” he demanded.
“The chancellor and the real princess,” I blurted, frightened. I waited, hope making me hold my breath. He shook his head at my unspoken question. Despair took me. He wasn’t going to let me go.
“No! Please!” I begged as he bent, grasping me about the waist and flinging me over his shoulder again.
I cried and cursed, filling his ear with the foulest language I
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