The Decoy Princess Page 11

  The cheat made a rude noise and reached for his tankard. Clearly he didn’t care. “Ah,” I said cryptically, thinking of the card in his boot. “But a king can find himself in the oddest of boots occasionally.” I looked at him squarely, eyes wide and innocent. “And a queen often finds herself on the strangest of arms—from time to time.”

  The cheat froze as he took in my carefully accented words. His tankard slowly descended to the table, and he stared at me. “Is that so?” he said, shoulders tense.

  I nodded slowly, confidently, as he forced his shoulders down. “It is. I’ve seen it.”

  His clean-shaven chin was thrust forward, and I wasn’t surprised when he jostled my ale to spill it as he reached to place another coin. “The cards!” the merchant called, and as he and Collin pushed the discard pile to safety, the cheat leaned close to me.

  “What do you want?” he muttered, his eyes almost black in the dim light.

  “Lose to me,” I whispered breathlessly, “or you’ll lose your hands.”

  The barmaid sighed at the spill so loudly I could hear her from across the room. The cheat kept his eyes upon his cards as she blotted at the mess. I knew he was trying to decide if I would call him on his cheating, and what would happen if he couldn’t escape. He eyed the coins on the table. His breath quickened as his gaze went to the door. I narrowed my eyes in threat.

  “Fold or play?” the merchant prompted. The cheat reached for a card in his hand.

  “Innkeeper?” I called loudly, my eyes riveted to the cheat’s brown ones. My heart pounded. I knew that I couldn’t turn him in; they might cut off his hands. But cards was a game of not just skill but bluff—and Kavenlow had taught me well.

  His mouth twitched, and his thumb rubbed the second finger on his hand. “Ah, hell with it. I fold,” he said, grimacing as he threw his cards to mingle with the others.

  The two men leaned back with a sigh. I didn’t reach for the coins, surprised when my exhaled breath shook. I jumped when the innkeeper bumped my shoulder, brought by my earlier call. “I’m buying the table a round of ale,” I said. “It was a wonderful game, gentlemen. If you will excuse me?” I sat on my bench and smiled at each in turn as my pulse slowed.

  The merchant rose immediately, knowing from experience a lady wouldn’t put such a large sum away while anyone was watching. “A pleasure, ma’am,” he said, inclining his head and going to the casks where the innkeeper was drawing four tankards.

  The bench scraped loudly as Collin rose with a pained slowness. He had a new stick between his teeth already. “Ma’am,” he said shortly, almost hobbling as he went to join Trevor. I wondered if he suffered from bone-ache, and the stick was from a willow.

  I turned to the cheat. For all of three seconds I resisted the urge to cock my eyebrow, then gave in, making him scowl. There was no joy in taking his money. I had been lucky.

  “That’s my money,” he said as he placed seven coins atop the pile to pay for his loss.

  Immediately I stiffened. “Not anymore, it isn’t.”

  He leaned closer, clearly going to say something. I could smell horse sweat on him, and earth. Glancing at the door he muttered, “Purchasing? You’re good. You’re very good.”

  On edge, I shifted all but one coin into my bag to pay for the ale. “If you mean I know how to play cards and spot a cheat, yes. If you mean I cheat? You are sadly mistaken. I could have won it all from you honestly, but I’m in a hurry.”

  Silent, he glanced at my bowl of soup before he pulled the king from his boot, the queen from his sleeve, and a priest from behind his collar. “We made a good team, didn’t we?”

  My jaw dropped. “This is my money,” I said as I stood. “All of it. Get out of my sight before I tell the innkeeper and you’re thrown into the pillory.”

  He stood slowly, clearly not alarmed as the cards were now upon the table and not on his person. Gathering them all, he wedged them in a stiff leather box and tucked it behind his shirt. The man had his own cards. How could he not be a cheat? “Good-bye, Lady Black Sheep.”

  I frowned at the connotation as he went to get his ale. He said a few words to the merchant and cord maker before he left, swallowing his tankard in two breaths to make his Adam’s apple bob.

  My bag was substantially heavier, and knowing the target I was, I motioned for the innkeeper. The flush from my win vanished as he brought me a new tankard. “Do you have a son who can accompany me as I shop tonight?” I asked.

  He nodded and took the coin I had left on the table. “I’ll fetch him, ma’am,” he said. “Though if I were you, I’d wait until morning.”

  “Everything will be gone by then,” I said, clutching my arms about myself. He walked away, his head nodding in understanding.

  The merchant and Collin were deep in conversation as I waited for the innkeeper’s son. I felt ill, the fish soup sitting uncomfortably in my knotting stomach. My first stop would be to get a new dart pipe. I expected the cheat was a thief as well, and despite the assurance of an escort and a topknot of deadly darts, I was alone and vulnerable.

  My eyes closed, and my jaw clenched. My parents were dead, I was a beggar’s get, and the only person I had left in the world had let me live a lie. And there wasn’t a soul I could tell.

  Nine

  “NO horses!” I flicked my gaze past the stableman to the stalls. “What are those?”

  The man took the lantern down from an overhead hook and rubbed his whiskered face.

  It was blessedly warm inside the stable, but my arms were still wrapped around me. To my disgust, the innkeeper’s son had been half-drunk in addition to being half-witted. After fending off his groping hands, I had left him on a corner singing of women to finish my shopping alone. I was safer without him. And I wasn’t as out of place as I had originally feared.

  Scores of people were in the streets shopping by lamplight. Being under a terrible time constraint and too dispirited to care, I had accepted inferior everything: my blankets were one thickness not two, my cooking utensils were made of copper and wood instead of clean metal, and the change of clothes shoved dismally into the bottom of my pack had been worn before.

  At least my boots were my own, and the gray cloak bumping about my ankles was fresh from the loom. Even better, I again had a whip coiled in supple loops and fastened to my waist. It was eight beautiful feet of leave-me-alone, and it gave me more confidence than I deserved. No knife, though. Clean steel of any length and strength was nearly as expensive as a horse.

  I had been to two other liveries already. If I didn’t find a horse here, I wouldn’t have time for my bath and find a mount both. And leaving without a horse with the hope to buy it from a fellow traveler wasn’t a promising proposition.

  “Come back tomorrow,” the man said as he shuffled to the wide doors. “I’ve got a few at pasture. Seems horses are in demand now. Damned wedding has everyone jumpy.”

  The last was muttered darkly, and I reached out after him. “Wait. Please?” I said, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of my whip. I clutched my cloak closer, hiding it. “What about one of those?” I stepped from the ring of light his lamp made to where two magnificent black horses—a perfectly matched mare and a gelding—stood sleepy and nodding.

  His brow was furrowed, his mind clearly on my whip and not the horses. “Ah—you can’t have those,” he said. “They belong to someone in the palace. A gift for the princess.”

  I took a breath to explain, then let it out in frustration as I gazed at my beautiful horses I couldn’t have. He wouldn’t believe me. Probably take me to the palace gates as moonstruck. Lips pursed, I went to the last stall. “What’s wrong with this one?” I said, surprised to see a child curled up in the corner, almost under the mare’s feet. Her body was thin from growing too fast, covered by a grimy, too-short dress. I couldn’t tell how long her hair was as it was a mat of tangles and straw, and her toes were black with filth.

  The man leaned over the edge of the short wall. His gaze fell
upon her, then rose to the horse. “Can’t sell you Dirt.” His voice was oddly flat.

  “Why not?” The brown mare looked sturdy, though a little short. Almost a large pony. My irritation tightened, knowing in a seller’s market, he could demand almost anything. When he didn’t answer, I entered the stall. The mare’s whiskers tickled my palm when she dropped her head to greet me. “Is she yours?”

  “Bought her this spring,” he admitted, clearly not pleased I was in with her.

  Good, I thought. It was a matter of finding the right price, and I was going to make sure it was one I could pay. I ran my fingers down the mare’s leg and lifted a hoof. Kavenlow had taught me to ride, insisting being able to choose a good horse was as important as being able to keep your seat in a jump. Letting the man stew for a bit, I looked her over. “There’s talk of war in the streets,” I said calmly as I patted the mare’s shoulder. “You can sell her to me tonight or give her to the palace when they assemble their cavalry troops in the morning.”

  “Costenopolie doesn’t have a mounted army,” the stableman said quickly.

  “I imagine they are going to need lots of horses, then—aren’t they?”

  The man looked like a trained bear as he shifted from foot to foot. The girl woke, and I scraped up a smile to soothe her frightened stare. She couldn’t be more than thirteen, gawky with adolescence. I’d been enamored of horses at that age, though I’d never been allowed to sleep with them. “She has a cracked hoof,” I said, trying to keep the price reasonable, “and is out of condition. I’m willing to pay you a good price, regardless.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You can’t,” she cried, scrambling up. “You won’t!”

  “Shut yer mouth!” the stableman bellowed, and I, the girl, and all the horses jumped. “I’ll sell the worthless thing if I want!” He turned to me with a smile. “You leaving tonight?”

  I hadn’t liked him shouting, and I nodded curtly. My curiosity took on a tinge of confusion as he beckoned me out into the small stable yard. Giving the mare a pat, I latched the stall shut behind me and followed him to where he waited just outside. He leaned close enough for me to smell the sour pork he had eaten tonight, and I backed away. “If it were just the horse, ma’am,” he said, “I’d sell her to you and be done with it. But it’s the girl.”

  My eyebrows rose, and I glanced behind me into the lit stables.

  “I bought the horse after her family died in a fire,” he continued. “It used to belong to them, and she won’t leave the mare. Screams as if the devil himself were after her if you try. She won’t stay with the folks that took her in and gave her work, either. They quit coming to fetch her, seeing as she’s old enough to be on her own. If I sell the mare to you, she’s going to follow you sure as chu pits stink. She’s a wicked thing, but I get too much work out of her to let her go for nothing. Maybe if you added a little something . . .”

  My face warmed. He had himself a slave. I recalled her haunted eyes watching me from her narrow face. She was what I would have been had Kavenlow not bought me: a beggar beholden to filth like this man for everything she had.

  Kavenlow had kept me from such misery as this, I thought, unable to be angry with him. He had lied to me, but his love had been true. I had to find him before a Misdev soldier did. And though it would complicate my life immeasurably, I couldn’t leave this girl here to accept whatever this man forced on her. Right now, her grime protected her. That might change if he ever got drunk and found her. “I’ll take both,” I said, praying I had enough.

  “She’ll make a fine servant, ma’am,” he said, his eyes fixed on the money I was stacking on a fencepost. “She jest need a good whipping. I can’t bear to beat a woman. But seeing as you are one . . .” His grin turned ugly. “She’d make a fine lady a good servant,” he repeated, his eyes dropping to the coil of leather on my hip.

  She wouldn’t, and I fought to keep from sneering that he would pander to me like that. The man was vile. I’d known such commerce took place in my streets. God save me, I was one of the commodities. I would make it clear to the girl that I bought her freedom, not her. “I want the girl, her horse, and the tack for it,” I said, disgusted as I gave him everything but a few coins.

  “Done,” he said greedily as he snatched them up in a thick-fingered hand.

  We spun at the sound of hooves. “Look out!” the stableman shouted, stumbling back as the brown mare clattered into the yard. The girl clung to the horse’s back like a brown shadow. “Addie!” he cried as the mare took the low fence. “Come back here. Wretched girl!” He ran to the street’s edge, coming to a frustrated halt. Dogs barked, and a candle flickered as a curtain was pulled aside. I stood in shock as my horse ran into the dark and was gone. “Addie!” he shouted again. He turned to me, anger hunching his shoulders. “I’ll get her ma’am,” he all but growled. “I’ll get her and tan her hide so well she won’t be able to go horseback for a fortnight.”

  “My horse,” I said, outraged. “You let her steal my horse! Is this why you’re the only one in the city with horses to sell? How many times have you done this tonight?”

  The man’s face went ashen in the light spilling from the barn. “No, ma’am!” he cried. “She run off on her own. Ask anyone; I’m an honest man!” He took a step to the gate, then turned back again. “Wait—wait here,” he said, his words seeming to stumble over themselves. “I’ll get your horse. She couldn’t have run far.”

  My eyes narrowed as he jogged to the street. He turned and gestured for me to stay, then lumbered into the dark. Dogs barked at his shouts, and I stared in disbelief at the empty street. He had my money. I had no horse. I had to leave. Now.

  Not knowing what else to do, I went into the stables to pick out my saddle. There wasn’t a sidesaddle, but I could ride astride. Kavenlow had insisted I learn, despite the stares of the stable-boys. Worried, I sat on a bale of straw and tugged my dress hem down. The gelding flicked his ears back and then up, clearly not sure whether he liked me or not. “That girl is halfway to the forest by now,” I said aloud, and his ears stayed pricked.

  I frowned with a sudden thought. I had paid for a horse, its tack, and a girl, much as the idea revolted me. It wasn’t my fault he had allowed all but the tack to run out the barn door and into the night. The horse I bought wasn’t coming back. I had every right to take one of these. After all, they were intended for me.

  Making soft noises, I entered the mare’s stall and made friends with her. I liked the more flashy gelding, but the mare would have more endurance. “Why shouldn’t I take you?” I whispered, my fingers arranging the silky strands of her mane. “You’re my horse. That I haven’t been presented with you yet is a formality. He should be thankful I paid for you at all.”

  I flushed in shame for what I was going to do as I got the saddle and pad and tightened the cinch. The mare tossed her head as the weight of them hit her back. She looked as eager as I was to leave. Her stablemate stamped and blew; he knew he was being left behind.

  My expectation that the man would come bursting back in at any moment kept my pulse hammering. Guilt made me choose the bridle in most need of repair, and I slipped the bit in between her teeth. The bag of belongings I had purchased went into a tattered saddlebag I found. I hadn’t exactly arranged to purchase it, but I was stealing a horse; the bag was incidental.

  Fingers trembling, I turned the oil flame down and led my mare out into the yard. The noise of her hooves was loud, and I cringed. I had paid for a horse. I was taking one. My gaze roved over the empty yard, listening for the stableman. Nothing. I couldn’t wait. I had to go.

  I gazed up at the stars, unseen behind the smoke of a hundred fires. Asking for forgiveness, I swung up into the saddle. Pitch—as I decided to call her—shifted a step, then settled as I adjusted my new cloak to best cover my legs.

  “She’s my horse to take. I’m not a thief,” I said as I shifted my weight and sent Pitch into the street. But somehow I couldn’t seem to still the small,
nagging voice that said I was.

  Ten

  I pulled my cloak tighter about my shoulders, relishing the clean smell of the wool and glad for its warmth as the cold slipped in from the bay to fill the town. Having decided careening through the streets on a galloping horse was a sure way to attract attention, I was again on foot. Slow and hypnotically relaxing, the noise of Pitch plodding behind me at the end of her lead echoed against the buildings. I was sensing alarm in the few knots of people huddled under the puddles of flickering light, and I wondered what the rumors had shifted to.

  I warily eyed a group arguing as I passed. The street traffic had dropped off with an alarming suddenness, but the people who were left were noisy. “Lady Black Sheep,” a masculine voice called sarcastically, and my breath seemed to freeze in me. A shadow pulled itself away from the lamp. Chu pits, it was the cheat. I looked up at the hazy heavens, wondering why it wasn’t raining. Everything else seemed to be going wrong.

  He angled away from the small group, a gray horse trailing behind him. My hand plucked a dart from my topknot and I held it hidden in my palm. I wondered if I should risk making a scene by darting him or if there were enough people about that I could tolerate his presence. I decided on the latter but kept the dart where it was.

  “Sir Cheat,” I said tightly as he came even with me. His horse wore a patched riding pad instead of a saddle. A bedroll and pack were tied behind it, filthy with use.

  “My name isn’t cheat. It’s Duncan.”

  “I don’t care,” I said, eying the street. Pitch made greeting noises and accepted the gray gelding in the easygoing manner of equines. I, however, wasn’t pleased.

  “Look . . . lady,” he said, “and I’m being generous with the title. I have to talk to you.”