Even though Prince Taveon had only hours before admitted to ordering an arrow shot at Bree’s chest, he showed up outside of her cell the following morning with a dress and the wrist braces and a scowl. Just like clockwork.

Bree glowered at the wall while she changed into the silky material. He’d chosen a bright yellow material this time, one that felt so soft and luxurious against her skin. It was such a sunny and cheerful color, the total opposite to how Bree felt inside. But, she couldn’t help but think, little did he know that soon Bree would not be living in this cell at all.

A delicious smile spread across her lips at the thought of the look on his face when he found out. He would be positively enraged.

She couldn’t wait.

First step, find out something that could help Lord Dagen with his cause. Truthfully, she didn’t trust the Lord any more than she trusted the Prince. He had his own agenda, and her life didn’t matter to him other than what she could do for him. He wouldn’t necessarily be a good ruler either, and he probably had no interest in getting rid of the Tithe.

But he also hadn’t ordered for Bree to be shot by an arrow just to make an example out of her.

“What is the matter with you?” the Prince asked when she stepped out of the cell and held up her wrists without argument.

She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing’s wrong with me. In fact, that wound you inflicted on me has completely healed now, no thanks to you.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “I was going to say that you do not seem nearly as angry as you normally do, but then you opened your mouth.”

She shot him a mock smile. “Maybe I’ve been looking forward to our little walk this morning. Maybe I enjoy our little time spent together in the mornings.”

“Hmm.” He eyed her suspiciously.

Whoops. Maybe she was laying it on a bit thick. She needed to be careful. It was only her first day as a spy, and she hadn’t even moved into her new room yet. Tipping off the enemy before she’d even started her new job probably wasn’t the best way to earn her freedom.

“Because our walks mean that it isn’t long until I can finally change into my fighting leathers and go train with Rafferty,” she said. “You know, the fae who helped heal me when his friend ordered a guard to shoot me with an arrow.”

“If you keep complaining about it, then I will have someone shoot you again,” he said, raising his voice when two guards entered the hallway.

Frowning, Bree crossed her arms over her chest, the metal clinking against metal. “You wouldn’t.”

But he very much would. He had made that very clear. For all his talk about being better than his father, he was falling right in line. Hell, after that little spectacle, he probably didn’t even need to go through with the Battle for the Crown. He’d proven to the Court he was hard with just that single arrow to her chest.

“I very much would, and now you know it.” He ground his teeth together as several members of the Court strode by them, all casting furtive glances in Bree’s direction. Heat spread through her cheeks, and her footsteps faltered for once. She hated this. She felt like some sort of prize on display, some kind of zoo animal that the Prince was parading around. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Nothing, not unless she wanted to be shot again. And next time, the arrow might find a different kind of mark. One that was much more fatal.

“Why do you even bother with this?” she hissed as she took several quick steps to catch up with the Prince, who had continued on walking when she’d paused. “Why take me for these walks? Why talk to me? You hate me. You’d rather I was dead, even if you do want to use me to be your champion.”

The Prince’s shoulders tensed, and he kept his eyes forward on the ground. Bree huffed. He couldn’t even bother looking at her!

“You need the exercise and the fresh air,” he merely said. “After a long night in that cell, you need this stroll to start your day.”

“The cell you put me in.”

“Yes, after you tried to kill me.”

Bree let out an irritated sigh. This conversation was going nowhere.

* * *

Several days passed with more of the same. At dawn, Prince Taveon would collect Bree from her cell before taking her to Rafferty for training. And then he’d drop her right back into that dimly-lit square of filth again, leaving her there to rot until the next dawn.

“I don’t think I can truly work as your assassin unless you give me some more insight into this realm.” Bree walked side-by-side with Prince Taveon down the dimly-lit hallway. He’d taken her on their morning walk through the castle grounds once again, though they had never stepped one foot outside the stone walls into the fresh night air. She was beginning to realize that this was a bit of a ritual for him. He liked going on this walk, and she had a feeling he had done it alone before she’d come along.

He would never admit that he wanted her company, of course. He would say this was all part of her training. A chance to stretch your legs, he’d said. Need to make sure you stay healthy.

He cut his eyes her way, though he didn’t truly face her. “Once Rafferty has finished his work with you, I have a couple of other instructors in mind to work on your physical combat skills. Then, we shall train you on what you need to know in terms of poisons, creatures, and powers you might come into contact with in this realm.”

“Others?” She couldn’t help but frown. As strange and unnerving as Rafe could be, she’d grown accustomed to his presence already. Hell, Bree loved spending time with him. He might transform into a raven instead of a wolf, but he still understood her in a way that no one else ever had, not even the other Redcaps she’d met in Otherworld. He knew what it felt like to have another creature brewing inside, and he knew what it felt like to want to resist it.

She couldn’t imagine working with any other fae.

“When it comes to physical combat, Rafe is good but he is not the best. He would much rather become a bird and spy on the world below than pick up a sword and fight. And he does not have the knowledge of one of the scholars.”

Bree arched her eyebrows. “You have scholars here?”

“Just because we must feed on the energy of humans to survive does not mean that we do not value knowledge.”

“Right.” A beat passed. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant. Poisons and creatures and powers...that’s all useful, but it’s book knowledge. Not street smart kind of stuff.”

“You are using your human vocabulary again, Bree.”

“Right. I mean, what’s it like to be a Dark Fae Prince? What is an ordinary day like? What do you do all day? Where’s the rest of your family?” And do you have any skeletons in that closet of yours?

Taveon’s jaw rippled as they turned the corner. Up ahead, Bree could see the heavy bolted door that led to the stairs down to her dungeon cell. She only had a few moments left with Taveon before he’d lock her up again, and she’d gotten zero information from him. Again. “I am not certain that I can see how details of my family will help you become my champion and assassin.”

“What if someone comes after you because of something your family did? Or what if I need to understand the motivations of someone close to you, someone who may have a history with your family? If I’m to one day fight for you, then I should know you.”

A compelling argument, one Bree had been mulling over in her head for days now. But it was an argument she didn’t think he was going to buy. His face was still set into hard stone, and his walk remained the steady, firm pace toward the door where their conversation would end.

But, after a moment, he cleared his throat. “Very well. As you know, my father was King Midas, and he ruled this realm with terror. He loved my mother, or at least that is what his people like to say. So much so that he looked past the fact that for years she was unable to produce him an heir. They were wed fifty years before she became pregnant with me. And he was so worried about her health that he took her away to the countryside, away from this stone and steel castle and its damp, cold walls.”

Taveon’s voice grew graver with each passing beat. “My father, of course, did not stay there with her. He took two wet nurses with them and returned to the castle. She was in their care those long months, and he only returned to her side when news came that a baby boy had been safely born.”

Bree’s heart clenched at the pain in Taveon’s voice.

“But she died during childbirth, my mother. When the King arrived at the cottage to find her body in the bed, he slew the two wet nurses in a fit of rage. It was not long after that when my father decided he wanted to destroy Queen Marin of Otherworld. He was cruel before, but my mother’s death made him vicious.”

Bree’s feet slowed, and she stopped short in the hallway, staring at Taveon with a hollow pit in her gut. No wonder he seemed to carry a storm cloud with him wherever he went. No wonder he always had that hollow look in his eyes. He carried with him the heartache of his own birth and the knowledge of exactly how terrible his father was.

“I’m sorry,” Bree whispered. She didn’t know what else to say. His was the kind of hurt that would likely never go away.

“And now you see why I want to claim the throne.” He began walking again, taking them closer and closer to the door down to Bree’s cell. “Our realm can either have another King just like my father, or we can have someone who will try to take our people back to a time when we had greater peace.”

Bree’s heart felt torn when they stopped just outside of the door. On the one hand, he had lied to her and had her shot with an arrow. So, how much of this could be believed? On the other hand, there was nothing false in that hollow look in his eyes. And his voice held far too much emotion for his words to be anything but real.

Still, he had lied, and he had lied about something important. And there was no telling what he had planned. Yes, he wanted to be good to his people, but what would he do once he’d taken the crown? Would he rule them with an iron fist? Would he have every single doubter shot in the chest before the entire Court?

Despite Taveon’s sad story, she would still gather the information she could for Lord Dagen. Besides, she didn’t have to use it if she decided she didn’t want to. If she decided to keep Taveon’s secrets, she could. But only if she was certain he would do her no more harm.