Page 18 of The Crownless Prince

A little past the edge of town, Marcus stopped to look back. He had a gut feeling he wouldn’t return. The ruined castle beyond the town was no longer home, and Alimer Principality no longer existed.

With a mixture of sorrow and tired acceptance, he let being an Alimer prince go, and turned his back on the town and the dark plume of smoke that obscured the stars. Ahead of him was Adriana, if she still lived, but the idea brought equal anticipation and anxiety.

What if, after four years, Adriana had reached the same conclusion as the innkeeper? What if she had realized he was a coward who had only publicly confessed his love and admitted to their relationship when he was backed into a corner by an arranged marriage?

His only comfort was that if Darius truly had been fooled, he would report to King Mortimer that he had succeeded in his task, and Mortimer wouldn’t be looking for him.

Because assassination attempt or no, Marcus still needed to know if Adriana was alive and well.

Chapter 7

Cattle didn’t have any right to make Marcus as emotional as they did.

Across the wide, snow-covered field, a herd of cattle grazed on the other side of a log fence. Notches in the cattle’s ears marked them as belonging to the Faine family, and the sight roused precious memories of visiting the same herd with Adriana. After two days of travel, they were getting close to Faine Castle.

Marcus and Edwin had opted to take a less direct route toward Faine Castle that was much hillier, longer, and colder than Marcus remembered. Of course, he’d never traveled so far on foot before, either—and never while unarmed. They’d heard wolves in the distance one night when they hadn’t made it to the next town before nightfall, but they’d encountered only a few deer and startled rabbits. Once he could have sworn that he saw a unicorn disappearing into the trees, but Edwin insisted unicorns didn’t bound like deer.

At least the cold brought the reassurance that the great bears were hibernating. The deadly beasts towered above any man, even Marcus with his above-average height, and that was before adding in the horns. They usually preferred the small mountain range in the north, though, and the great bears that ventured into the forests always retreated tothe mountains to hibernate. One less thing that might want to kill him.

To avoid drawing the attention of the humans who wanted Marcus dead, Edwin had bought all of their supplies when they stopped in small towns, and Marcus mostly kept to himself at the inns, avoiding the curious stares his bandaged head attracted. Now that his cut had scabbed over, he no longer needed the bandage, and thankfully, no one appeared to be looking for him.

Reaching the Faine’s herd almost made up for the long day of walking through snow flurries and munching on biscuits that had a suspicious similarity to rocks. Marcus had been trudging through the powdery snow, his gloved hands shoved under his armpits for warmth and his head bowed to minimize snowflakes drifting into his face, when he’d heard the low of cattle. It was already midafternoon, and they shouldn’t waste daylight, but for a few minutes, he stood rooted in place.

The cattle’s long, gently curved horns swayed with their peaceful movement, and their shaggy reddish-brown fur looked unfairly warm and cozy. Three calves pranced through the snow. They were at least a few months old, likely already weaned, but still smaller, and their fur appeared softer than that of the older cattle.

Adriana had often used visiting these cattle as an excuse to leave the castle and secretly meet with Marcus. She still always wanted to actually watch the cattle, especially during calving season. He never minded, because he loved the way her eyes lit up every time she saw them, especially if there were any new calves. Adriana called the cattle “fluffy cows” because that’s what her mother had called them, and she declared there was nothing as precious and huggable as a tiny long-haired calf with its fuzzy hair.

They’d spent hours watching the cattle and talking. Sometimes they had shared memories of their mothers. While Marcus’s mother had died from a septic wound when he was ten, Adriana’s mother had passed from a wasting illness only a few months before they’d met. He’d sympathized with her grief and was the listening ear she needed. They both found it easier to process their sorrow and retell the stories of love and laughter with someone outside of their family—although Adriana’s older brother, Jairus, sounded much kinder and easier to talk to than Marcus’s brothers had been. They’d shared so many secrets and emotional conversations, all covered by the lowing of cattle.

While stuck in that tower, Marcus had frequently pictured himself right where he now stood, with Adriana at his side. She would laugh as a couple of energetic calves playfully butted heads and then ran off, kicking up their muddy hooves.

He blinked away tears. Perhaps he could blame the wetness on snowflakes melting on his face, but that wasn’t it. Missing Adriana was a gaping pit deep inside him that he didn’t know how to close.

“We should continue,” Edwin commented, breaking the silence. “If we don’t slow down, we should be able to reach Glenborough by sundown.”

Marcus took a deep breath and nodded. “If there’s any news to be had about Adriana, it’ll have made its way there.”

“And then what?” Edwin asked quietly.

Adjusting his pack and cloak, Marcus started forward again. “We look for work, I suppose.”

“So close to Faine Castle?”

“I don’t really know yet.” The truth was he wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Because if he thought about it, he’d have to decide what to do if Adriana no longer wanted to own cattle with him.

As they left the cattle behind, Marcus cast one last look back at them, and hoped whatever news they found in Glenborough would be good.

Finding a table directly in front of the fire at one of Glenborough’s two inns seemed the best stroke of luck Marcus had been blessed with in years. He sighed contentedly as he sank into the chair opposite Edwin and sprawled out his limbs, basking in the warmth and the comforting cackle.

The snow had picked up, and a frigid wind had started shortly before sunset. With this spot by the fire, he was comfortably warm and would soon be dry.

Edwin had traded their last silver candlestick for dinner, a night’s boarding, and breakfast the next morning. He looked at Marcus glumly as the barmaid thunked down two tankards of ale and hurried away.

“We might be able to trade some of our clothing, but I think after this we’ll have to trade our labor or find employment.”

Marcus shrugged as he dragged his tankard toward himself. “As we knew we would. We’ll figure it out.”

A group of three men entered, snow blowing around them before they slammed the door shut. One of them called out to the innkeeper like they were old friends, and the three occupied the table behind Marcus.

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