Page 15 of The Crownless Prince

No one else was in the dining area downstairs, but a middle-aged man with his long hair tied back at the nape of his neck and a ruddy complexion entered from the kitchen.

“Oh, sirs! Are you lookin’ to break your fast?”

“Yes.” A chill went through Marcus as he and the man hunting him spoke at the same time.

“If it can be quick,” the assassin said as he stepped around Edwin. “A couple of fried eggs should do it. I need to be on the road, and I’ll pay extra to be on my way faster.”

“Ah, somewhere important to be?”

“I need to find the young Alimer princeling, and I’ve heard a theory the curse making his prison inescapable may have broken with his father’s death.” The man slipped into a chair, his movements smooth as a bobcat’s. “Seen anyone unusual pass through in the last few days?”

Marcus and Edwin took a table on the opposite side of the room. If it weren’t for hunger already gnawing at his stomach, he would be tempted to leave without breakfast.

The ruddy-faced man laughed. “Sure. You, them over there”—he jerked his thumb toward Edwin and Marcus, and Marcus resisted the urge to flinch—“think there’s another ’un upstairs. And a host of knights and soldiers in the last week.”

“I see. The eggs, if you would?” The assassin flipped a gold coin between his fingers. “And a loaf of bread, if you have it.”

“Aye.” A greedy glint shone in the innkeeper’s eyes as he turned to Marcus and Edwin. “And for you, sirs?”

Edwin held out a brass candle snuffer with an ivory handle. “Whatever we can get in exchange for this. If it’d cover something for us to take on our way, that would be appreciated.”

The man examined the snuffer before nodding. “Be right out.” Then he disappeared into the back.

Marcus glanced toward the cloaked man and wished he hadn’t when he caught the assassin watching them. He focused on Edwin.

“What do you suppose he’ll bring us?”

“Eggs, probably. Fast and cheap. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

Steady bootsteps moved toward them, then a scraping of wood against wood, and the assassin dragged a chair over to their table. “What’s your story?”

Marcus braced himself as he turned and met the man’s gaze and worked to keep his expression neutral. “Just passing through on our way home.”

“I’m Darius.” He tilted his head, clearly waiting for them to give their names.

“Gerald,” Marcus said evenly. “This is my brother, Felix.”

Darius nodded. “Did you fall on hard times as a result of Prince Alimer’s defeat?”

“No. Recently came out of seclusion for spiritual betterment.”

“Truly?” Darius lifted his eyebrows, his gaze passing up and down them both. “Where’s home?”

“Nydellan Principality. Or what used to be Nydellan.” Marcus’s hands grew clammy, and his appetite was quickly fading.

“Must be strange to come out of seclusion and find so much changed.” Something in the man’s piercing eyes made Marcus’s mouth go dry.

“Indeed. We worry about how our family is faring.”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and the male innkeeper breezed out, three plates balanced on his arms and a sack in each hand.

“Here—ah, makin’ new friends? Excellent.” He placed all three plates of eggs on their table, much to Marcus’s chagrin. “And breadfor the road.” He gave a sack to Edwin and exchanged the other for a gold coin from Darius before striding back to the kitchen.

“Why are you looking for this princeling?” Edwin asked, his tone almost too casual as he cut into his eggs.

Darius picked up his own butterknife and fork. “I’ve been sent to kill him.”

Chapter 6

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