Page 14 of The Crownless Prince

If only Marcus shared that surety.

But it was so much worse than simply avoiding his own death.

If that man truly had been sent by Mortimer Faine to kill him…visiting Adriana would be even more dangerous. Sure, Mortimer likely wouldn’t recognize him, as they hadn’t seen each other in roughly five years and they’d only met each other twice, and one of those times Mortimer had been distracted with other concerns. But it would still be insanity to go near Faine Castle if Mortimer wanted him dead.

He scowled at his cold remaining stew. Did the new king fear the son of one of his vanquished rivals might pose a threat to his nascent reign? Understandable, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Marcus had never cared about ruling, and even if the route had been one he’d hoped to avoid, Mortimerhadbrought peace to Aedyllan, which was all Marcus had ever wanted.

Other than Adriana.

Without a crown and now that Adriana was the princess of an entire kingdom, he’d already known he didn’t have a chance anymore. He was hardly a suitable husband, and he had no wealth or plan to provide for her if they eloped. Still, in the deepest part of his heart, he’d clung to the hope that they could be together. After all, Adriana wasn’t the heir, that was her older brother, so there was a possibility her father wouldn’t care who she married, as long as he was a good man.

But if Mortimer Faine wanted him dead, would he ever accept Marcus as his son-in-law? Perhaps if he convinced Mortimer he wasn’t a threat. He could establish contact with Adriana and wait until Aedyllan had stabilized, then reveal himself and prove he’d done nothing to undermine the new king. He’d already waited four years. What was another several months?

Of course, none of this would matter if Adriana didn’t even wanthim anymore. If only he knew for certain she was waiting for him, but the only way to know that was to go to her—or at the very least, to the town near her father’s castle. He had to know.

“Unless…” Edwin said quietly, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you sure you still want to go to Faine Castle?”

Oh, he knew he shouldn’t. It was foolish beyond measure. “Yes.” His heart wouldn’t let him give any other answer.

Edwin’s lips thinned in a way that indicated he didn’t approve, but that he wouldn’t argue, either.

When Helen came back down the stairs, Marcus asked her to show them to their accommodations.

She escorted them upstairs, past a couple of closed doors and some that were open to small rooms with one or two beds, to the end of the hall. A curtain hung over the doorway, which she pushed aside before motioning for them to follow. She pulled flint and steel from a pocket of her apron and lit a candle on a sconce mounted to the wall. Feeble light illuminated a room with six beds that were little more than cots, but it looked clean and didn’t smell, so Marcus decided it wasn’t bad.

“That bed’s taken.” The innkeeper indicated a cot on the right side of the room. “But you have your pick of the others. If you need to leave the room, just turn the top half of the blanket down the same as that one to show that bed’s claimed. You can light any of the candles”—she motioned to the handful of other candles on the walls—“but blow them out if you’re leaving the room empty.”

“Thank you.” Marcus narrowly stopped himself from bowing. No need to betray his noble upbringing, especially with a dangerousstranger lurking nearby who was looking for him.

Helen grunted and departed. Edwin looked around the room with a scowl.

“What? It’s better than I’d pictured.”

“Only one exit, unless we count the window,” Edwin muttered. He pointed to where a cowhide had been affixed to the left, west-facing wall, likely covering a window for the winter. “Which, considering how far we’d fall from there, I don’t. If that assassin comes for you in here, we’ll be trapped, and with no door, we can’t even lock him out.”

“I thought you said we didn’t need to worry.”

“There’s a difference between worrying and being cautious.”

“Is there?”

Edwin made a face at him. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done for it. It’d attract suspicion if we asked for our own room now, and I’m not sleeping outside.”

“Nothing other than sleep is going to happen,” Marcus said, and he hoped he sounded unworried.

Still, Edwin insisted they take the two cots under the window, despite Marcus’s protests about the cold air seeping in around the wood shutters and hide covering. “It’s further from the unknown person sharing the room, and I can indulge my fantasy that the window is a means of escape in an emergency.”

They spent the rest of the evening discussing the best route to reach Faine Castle, until a quiet young man arrived and tucked into the cot on the far side of the room. Thankfully, they’d made enough secret excursions to meet with Adriana that they were well acquainted withseveral possible routes.

It took a while for Marcus to fall asleep. Thank goodness for the blanket that Edwin had used to tie on his pack, because the inn’s blankets were scratchy. The thin, straw-stuffed mattresses were lumpy and uncomfortable, but were better than sleeping on the ground. Quiet snoring came from the far end of the room. And in the back of his mind, the likely assassin somewhere down the hall taunted him every time he closed his eyes.

Somehow, though, he did sleep, and when he awoke, it was to find Edwin already up and stretching beside his bed in the flickering light of a single candle. Of course his red-blond hair was already brushed and re-braided, too.

Well, he probably slept better,Marcus thought irritably.

Their roommate was still lightly snoring, but Marcus caught a faint scent of baking bread, so he might as well get up.

After Marcus cleaned up and found the water closet, they repacked their things and headed downstairs. A door opened as they passed it, and the man in the black hood from the night before emerged. They gave each other a silent nod and Marcus and Edwin hurried past, Marcus acutely aware of the man walking behind them.

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