Chapter One
Sitting in the cold, damp cave with her wrists and ankles bound, Allyssa watched the assassin start the fire. Once it took, he glanced up at her, his black eyes revealing pure ruthlessness. Without uttering a single word, he stood and exited the cave as silent as a cougar. Most likely, he was going outside to tend to the horses, which were secured to a nearby tree.
Allyssa looked over at Jarvik crumpled on the ground. He was staring at the ceiling of the cave. She had no idea what to say to him. Their entire friendship was based on a lie.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled, his soft voice echoing.
“Like what, Prince Odar?” The words came out harsher than she intended. For the past few weeks, she had thought he was simply a nosy, pigheaded squire, not the bloody prince of Fren. No wonder he was such a good strategist and swordsman. She couldn’t help but remember the nights they’d snuck out of the castle together, scheming. How her traitorous feelings gradually turned from hatred to respect, and then to something much deeper than friendship.
“Like you hate me.” He sighed. “I was afraid this would happen.”
“When you’re deceitful,” she snapped, “you tend to lose people’s trust.”
“Like you lost Grevik’s by lying to him?” he countered.
If she wasn’t tied up, she would march over there and punch him in the face for speaking about Grevik. This situation was completely different. If her best friend had known she was the princess of Emperion, they never would have been friends, nor would they have fought crime together. A deep pain rippled in her chest, but she shoved it away, not wanting to think about Grevik’s death. His loss would be dealt with later, when she wasn’t at the mercy of the assassin who’d brutally killed him.
Jarvik started laughing, the sound bouncing off the surrounding dark stones. “It doesn’t even matter. All the precautions I took and look at me. I’m lying here about to die.”
“No, you’re not.” Granted, he was covered in a tremendous amount of blood. However, if the assassin wanted either of them dead, they’d be dead already—which meant he needed them alive.
“There is a serious knife wound in my thigh. I’ve lost a significant amount of blood, which has made me lightheaded and unable to walk. If my injury isn’t taken care of, infection will set it. It’s only a matter of time.” It sounded as though he had already given up, but Jarvik was a fighter. Apparently, he was also a master manipulator. Her eyes narrowed, studying him. He had made no attempt to lower his voice in the small space. The assassin wouldn’t have gone far. Most likely, he’d overheard their conversation. She didn’t respond, unsure of what Jarvik was playing at.
Her thoughts drifted to the knife wound he sustained while fighting the assassin. Before they had left on their journey, Marek, the head of her personal guard and lifelong friend, briefly instructed her on how to mend such wounds. She knew what plants lessened swelling and kept infection at bay. Although she had never done it before, she was fairly certain she could stitch his skin together if needed. How hard could it possibly be?
The assassin slunk into the cave, carrying two skinned rabbits skewered on sticks. After placing them over the fire, he sat down and removed something from the saddlebag next to him on the ground. Glancing at Allyssa, he said, “Besides your neck, do you have any injuries that require attention?”
Concealed beneath her plain tunic, a bandage covered the sword wound she received from her own guard during Grevik’s failed rescue attempt. “How do you know about that?”
He raised his eyebrows, a small smile playing on his lips, but he made no attempt to respond.
“No,” she finally answered. Her stomach felt tender from the punch she withstood earlier in the day, but there was nothing that could be done about that. Nodding toward Jarvik, she said, “He, on the other hand, needs help. Untie me so I can see to him.”
“You do not give me orders,” the assassin said with a sneer.
She had the urge to scream at the man for being a daft cow. How could he sit there so composed while Jarvik was covered with blood? Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to remain calm with her temper firmly under control. Being assertive did not seem to work with him; perhaps appearing meek and mild would be more effective. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from speaking. It went against every fiber of her being.
After a few moments of silence, the assassin said, “Do you have any experience in the art of healing?”
Technically, she had no experience, but she did have a vague idea of what needed to be done, thanks to Marek. She squeezed her bound hands together, not wanting to think about Marek right now. His face had revealed hurt, betrayal, and fear when she ordered him to leave her and seek help. However, it had been the only way to save him.
Looking directly at the assassin, she nodded.
He stood and came over to her, whipping out a small dagger and slicing through her bindings. Before she could say a word, he took the tip of the dagger and brushed a lock of her long, brown hair away from her right ear. “If you attempt to harm me in any way,” he whispered, “I’ll hunt down that pathetic guard of yours—what’s his name? Marek? Only, I won’t kill him like I did your friend Grevik. Instead, I’ll capture him and keep him as my plaything. He’ll wish he were dead. Do you understand?”
Her stomach rolled with nausea. “Yes.” She knew the assassin spoke the truth, and no one else could die because of her.
After he sat back down, he tossed her a small leather bag. She caught it and went over to Jarvik, kneeling beside him. “First thing’s first,” she said. Curling her fingers into a fist, she heaved her arm back and punched Jarvik in the face. “That’s for lying to me, you bastard.” Damn, that felt good.
His eyes widened in shock as his head flew to the side from the impact. When he turned back to face her, a sardonic smile spread across his face. “You grew up at court. I’m sure you’re used to it by now.”
Fury filled her. She had trusted him, and he lied to her. Their friendship was built on something that didn’t exist. Did he even care for her, or had his feelings also been a lie? “Don’t speak to me in such a way.”
He chuckled. “Cursing and punching one minute, regal the next. You are a walking contradiction.”
Ignoring him, she opened the bag and rummaged around inside, taking inventory of the herbs and bandages. Her knuckles were sore even though she hadn’t hit him that hard.
“I can take care of myself,” Jarvik said. “You don’t need to help me.”
“Stop being a pansy.”
He rolled his eyes but made no attempt to stop her as she carefully ripped the seam of his pants, exposing his injured thigh. An incredible amount of blood coated his leg.
“Use the medicine in the larger tin,” the assassin instructed.
Allyssa found the container and pulled it out.
Jarvik slid his hand toward her knee, tapping it twice and startling her. He mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
The assassin couldn’t know how she truly felt about the squire-turned-prince. She quickly focused on his wound, not acknowledging him.
She expected to see a large gash with part of his bone or muscle exposed. However, the wound appeared to be superficial. She twisted around to question the assassin.
“My sword was laced with a paralyzing substance,” he said, watching her closely. She was right to keep her thoughts and feelings hidden from him. “It wears off after ten hours or so.”
Relief filled her, but she refused to let it slip through her mask of indifference. Turning back to Jarvik, she said, “All your complaining about dying is a bunch of rubbish. You’re going to be just fine.” It had been close to ten hours since the assassin captured them. Jarvik should regain feeling soon.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed again.
“You’re a typical entitled prince with a flair for the dramatic,” she said loud enough for the assassin to hear. “I should have seen through your lies.”
“You would know.” His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t discern, making her want to strangle and kiss him at the same time.
She opened the tin and scooped out a handful of salve, applying it to Jarvik’s wound. The substance had a pungent smell, which indicated it had some sort of antiseptic to it. When done, she closed the tin, shoved it in the bag, and tossed it back to the assassin. With her chin held high, she got up and sat on the other side of the fire, studiously ignoring Jarvik. Since her captor knew all he had to do was threaten those she loved to ensure her cooperation, she would not show any feeling toward the prince at all.
Prince. She couldn’t comprehend the fact that Jarvik was Prince Odar. On one hand, she was thrilled the prince hadn’t died and the alliance could still be preserved. However, the man she’d fallen in love with didn’t exist—he had only been playing a part. The entire time, she’d thought he was only a quick-witted squire with excellent fighting skills when he was really the prince of Fren. When she’d lied to Grevik about who she was, it was so she could be free from the confines of her title and be a true friend. It wasn’t with the intention to deceive. What reason could Jarvik possibly have for lying to her this entire time? Why didn’t he tell her the truth? A little voice reminded her that he’d tried to tell her something numerous times. He had even said, I’m afraid you’re locked in this cage of deceit with me. When you break free, you’re going to hate me. Bloody hell. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
“How can you be certain?” she asked the assassin.
“Of what?”
“That this man is really Prince Odar and not the squire I believed him to be. I’m not easily fooled.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“The same way I know that you’re Princess Allyssa and not Lilly. I’m not easily fooled.” His black, shoulder-length hair fell forward, concealing his dark eyes and accentuating his angular features.
“I’ve seen you before,” Jarvik suddenly interrupted, pushing himself to a sitting position. “At Fren’s court. You came with Princess Shelene.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the assassin.
“Ah,” the assassin purred, “you’re not as aloof as I’d hoped you’d be.” He adjusted the skewered rabbits over the fire, not offering anything further about his identity.
What had a man with his particular skillset been doing visiting Fren’s court with a princess? Allyssa was about to question him when her stomach grumbled from hunger. The assassin opened one of his bags and flung a roll of bread to her. She caught it.
“Eat up,” he commanded. “Can’t have you starving to death on me.”
At least she wouldn’t have to worry about him killing her while she slept. Tearing off a piece of the bread, she devoured it. Allyssa prayed Marek had managed to reach a town and have his injuries tended to. It was only a matter of time before he gathered a group of Emperion soldiers and started tracking her. She just had to hang on until he found her.
Jarvik sat on the other side of the fire, wiggling his foot while rubbing his thigh. Feeling must be returning to his leg. He glanced up at her, a fierce determination in his eyes. Her own features must have mirrored his—because there was no way she would let Russek use her as a bargaining piece against her parents in order to conquer Emperion. If Marek didn’t rescue her, she would find a way to outsmart and escape the assassin.
As to what she would do about Jarvik, well, that was another matter entirely.
***
Something startled Allyssa, and she woke up. A large hand slid over her mouth. She was about to punch her attacker when Jarvik whispered in her ear. “Stay absolutely still. Just listen to what I have to say and don’t respond—no matter how much you might want to.”
The fire in the cave had died out completely, and blackness surrounded them. She wondered how Jarvik had gotten over to where she lay without rousing their captor.
His hand slid under hers. “Tap a finger against my hand once for yes, twice for no. Understand?” She tapped his hand once. “Very good. Are you hurt?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear while he spoke.
She tapped twice. His body lay against the right side of hers, making her want to turn and hug him, but any movement might wake the assassin.
“I’m much better now that the poison has worn off. However, I don’t think it wise to escape just yet. We need to kill the assassin. In order to do so, I’d like to watch him for a couple of days to learn his body movements and search for his weaknesses. Is that all right with you?”
She hesitated. He wanted to kill the assassin? She didn’t see why they couldn’t hit him on the head and drag him back to the castle for his punishment instead.
“We have no choice,” Jarvik whispered. “He’s too dangerous to leave alive.”
Allyssa understood that people died in war. And this man had killed Grevik. He deserved to be punished for that crime. Yet, she was torn about the idea of murdering him. She tapped Jarvik’s hand twice.
“You don’t want to kill him?” Surprise rolled off his words.
She wanted to explain, but he’d told her not to speak. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—it was that she didn’t think it was right to. There was a difference.
“Would you rather try to escape?”
She tapped his hand once. At least they knew what the assassin looked like. If they killed him, Russek would probably send another one after them.
“Watch for an opportunity. Be ready.”
Allyssa tapped his hand once. The right side of her body suddenly became cold as he moved away. She didn’t hear a single sound except for the pounding of her own heart.
***
The Bizantek Forest loomed before them. “Are you taking us in there?” Allyssa asked incredulously. The trees were so close together it would be difficult for the horses to travel.
The assassin didn’t answer. The wind blew a strand of her hair loose. It landed across her nose. She let out a frustrated growl, unable to brush the hair off her face since her hands and legs were precariously tied to the horse. Thankfully, she was sitting upright. Jarvik’s position atop his horse was far worse than hers because his hands were tied around the animal’s neck, forcing him to lean forward. Every night when they stopped, he could barely stand because his back was so sore.
Allyssa couldn’t believe the grueling pace the assassin managed to maintain. They rode hard all day, only stopping once it was too dark to go any farther. He woke them at the first sign of dawn, and they were on the horses traveling again.
Since that first night, they hadn’t been lucky enough to find another cave. They were forced to sleep tied up under the stars in the frigid air, without a fire. She kept a close eye on the assassin and remained alert, waiting for Jarvik to signal it was time to act. If he didn’t make a move soon, she would.
The assassin pulled the lead ropes tighter, forcing the horses into a single-file line. When she glanced over her shoulder at Jarvik, he looked away from her. Every time they stopped to eat or sleep, he ignored her. It was almost as if they were back to when he first came to Emperion and they hated each other. The act was necessary so the assassin wouldn’t discover their feelings for one another. Still, it hurt to be so alone and helpless.
They entered the Bizantek Forest, and the temperature plummeted. The horses’ hooves sank into the soft mud from the sun not reaching the forest floor. Bright green moss grew on the tree trunks, making them look like living giants ready to swoop down and crush them at any moment. The assassin pulled the horses to an abrupt halt and unsheathed his dagger. Nothing appeared disconcerting. Birds chirped and leaves rustled.
And then she heard a person humming a joyful tune.
The assassin dismounted, not making a sound. A shiver ran through her body. As if sensing something was amiss, her horse snorted, becoming restless. The assassin tied all three horses to a nearby tree and slunk away, blending in with the forest.
As soon as he was out of sight, Jarvik yelled, “Run! Get away from here!” His voice rang out loud and clear, making several birds take flight. He fought against his restraints, cursing.
“Surely he won’t kill someone for being in the forest,” Allyssa said, a sick feeling overcoming her as she heard the absurdity of her own words—this man was an assassin.
Jarvik frantically worked on undoing his bindings. A moment later, his hands came free. Reaching down, he untied the rope around his ankles. Allyssa attempted to do the same. The rope chafed the tender skin around her wrists as she worked. A scream shattered through the forest. Everything went eerily still. Jarvik freed himself and slid off his horse. Rushing over to her, he undid her bindings and helped her off the horse.
A second scream rang out, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Jarvik grabbed her arm, dragging her in the opposite direction the assassin had gone.
“Wait,” she insisted. “There could be more people who need our help.”
His grip tightened. “We can’t risk it.”
“I beg to differ.” She knew this could be their best chance to escape. However, what kind of ruler was she if she left her own people at the mercy of an assassin? “Release me.”
He hesitated a moment and then complied. She ran after the assassin, Jarvik close behind. After thirty feet or so, she came upon the assassin. He was crouched on the ground, bent over the body of a small child who appeared to be only eight or so. The child’s neck had been slit, and blood coated the ground. A man lay a few feet away with his arm outstretched toward the child, a knife embedded in his chest. The assassin reached over and plucked the weapon free, wiping off the blood with a leaf.
Allyssa fell to her knees and vomited.