Page 70 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
“What would you like me to do?”
Brutus hadn’t thought that far ahead. This was his plot, twelve years in the making. He didn’t particularly need an apprentice hanging around, soaking up half the credit. “Check on the dungeons. Make them comfortable for our guests’extended stay.”
“Would you like me to prepare a bedroom for Treasure?”
“Gods no. He’ll be in the dungeon with the rest of them, where a proper Prince of Bane belongs.”
“Does he knowthat?”
Was that a challenge in Wilde’s tone? “We’ve been over this. Treasure understands his mission. After he leads the champions here, he will be the bargaining chip to keep his two ‘fathers’—” he put air quotes around the word “—in line, so they don’t rebel against my rule. He will obey me in this as he does everything.”
A sound came from Wilde that might have been a snort. The poised, distinguished apprentice had never behaved so disrespectfully toward his master, so Brutus quickly convinced himself he’d heard incorrectly.
He once again shooed his apprentice away. “Stop questioning me and deliver your message. Tell thelizardthat I want the champions brought to me by sunrise.”
Wilde obeyed, closing the door on his way out.
Something was missing from the interaction. Brutus wracked his brain but couldn’t figure outwhat. Eventually, he gave up and returned to his desk to write his speech.
Chapter Twenty
Two undisturbed nights in a row were too much to expect in a haunted forest. I woke to a hand covering my mouth, the dark shadow of my assailant looming over me. Clenching my fist, I swung it up into their stomach with a satisfying smack. They groaned and released me, rolling to the side, exposing their face to the dim firelight.
Fitz’s eyes watered as he clutched his stomach. “Why …” he wheezed.
“Itold youhe wakes up violently,” Delilah whispered. “That’s why I didn’t want to do it.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded, only to be met with four people frantically hissing, “Shhh!”
The shushing barely cut off before I heard the soft, muted sound of a footstep outside the barn door.
I rolled over and grabbed the hilt of one of my swords, ready to draw it at the first sign of an attack.
The soft susurration of hissing leaked through the cracks in the door. Our nighttime visitors probably weren’t human, but they might be sentient.
We’d assumed the farm was abandoned like the rest of the forest. Just because humans had tucked tail and run didn’t mean everyone else had.
Was it a group of harmless farmers, investigating the trespassers on their property? Or the patrols Wilde had mentioned? Either way, we shouldn’t stick around to find out.
I gestured for everyone to huddle up. Keeping my voice low, I said, “Pack up your shit as quietly as possible. We’re leaving out the back.”
“What if they’re guarding both entrances?” Delilah whispered.
“Right. We need a distraction, but I don’t know what—”
“I’ll do it,” Angelica said, her voice firm, unwavering.
Of all the people to volunteer, Maximus seemed more like the self-sacrificing type. Even he seemed surprised by Angelica’s rapid answer.
“Are you sure?” Fitz asked. “You’re a fine duelist, but if it’s more than one assailant, they could overwhelm you.”
“I’m sure,” she insisted. “Evil mages always want to capture damsels, not kill them. They’ll take me to the mage’s lair, which is where we’re going anyway.” She pulled away from our huddle long enough to flip her golden hair over her shoulder. “It’ll save me a long walk.”
“So, your plan is to lower their guard with your feminine wiles and hope for the best?” I asked, voice dripping with sarcasm that slid right off her.
“Exactly.” Standing up, she tiptoed to her bag and rifled around in it for a few minutes. Eventually, she pulled out a white, diaphanous nightgown with an opalescent shimmer. “I prepared for this possibility. Everyone turn around while I change.”
We shuffled around, rearranging our huddle to put our backs to her. “When we make a run for it, we might end up in separate directions,” I said. “Does everyone have a compass?”
