The Princess Search: A Retelling of The Ugly Duckling (The Four Kingdoms Book 5)

by Melanie Cellier

  “That’s right, be a good girl, now,” said a voice from my nightmares. True fear flooded me. Somehow he had eluded them and circled around. I was all alone, at his mercy, and no one knew it.

  Chapter 25

  Marcus dragged me backward away from the marketplace and the garden and into a deserted alleyway. He spun me around to face him.

  “I was hoping we would meet again,” he said.

  I spat at him.

  “Uh uh uh, none of that now.” He grinned a lazy grin that sent ice down my spine. “I knew you would all find your way here eventually, all I had to do was bide my time.”

  He already gripped one arm, his dagger pricking into my other side, but he leaned forward as he said the words, bringing his face even closer to mine. “With the others it’s just business, but with you, my dear Evangeline, with you it’s personal. If it hadn’t been for my old-fashioned uncle, I would have taught you to mind your betters on Catalie. But I had to get rid of you instead. And then you returned, only to go and rescue my dear cousin, ruining everything in the process. I’m going to enjoy having my revenge on you, Evangeline.”

  I turned my face away, leaning my head as far back as I could without moving my body. He merely laughed and drew back a fraction. The band around my chest eased, and I could breathe again.

  I cast a subtle look around the alley, but no one else was in sight. My eyes caught on an untidy pile of old crates. Something tugged at my memory, but the blade pressing into my side made it hard to focus.

  I looked back at Marcus who watched over my shoulder as if waiting for something or someone. Perhaps he had back up coming. The thought sent my mind frantically wheeling as I tried to conceive of some means of escape or rescue. I should never have left Lanare.

  But I gave my head the slightest shake, as if to dislodge the idea. All my life, as I had moved from place to place, I had tried to put the past behind me. Whenever the memories resurfaced, I pushed them away. Only at night in my dreams were they able to roam free.

  I had thought revisiting the scenes of my past life would cripple me, and yet this trip had only made me stronger. I had needed to remind myself of the parts of my journey that had been good, and to visit the sources of my fear now that I was no longer a frightened child. I had needed to give myself space to grieve. I had needed to face my past to conquer it.

  Which meant it was time for me to stop running from myself; it was time for me to embrace my past.

  The thought brought my eyes snapping back to the crates and the crumbling brick wall behind them. They were familiar. I knew this place from the days when I ran with the street urchins of Largo.

  Confidence and certainty filled me as I looked back at Marcus’s distracted face. He was one part of my past I would have gladly left behind for good. But since he was apparently determined to seek me out, I would show him that I wasn’t a weak and passive victim. I didn’t know if I could defeat him, but I knew I had to fight.

  As fast as I could, I whipped my hand up, smashing my flat palm into his nose. In the same moment, I stomped with all my strength onto one of his feet. He gasped and fell back a step, hopping and blinking hard. The moment the tip of the dagger left my skin, I ducked around him and ran for the back of the alley.

  Reeling and surprised by the direction of my attempted escape, it took him several precious moments to pursue me. I spun around the crates, dropped to my knees and wriggled through the hole in the bottom corner of the brick wall. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought I wouldn’t fit, but with a tear of fabric I squeezed through into the street beyond.

  Rough hands grabbed at my left ankle, halting my forward momentum. I let him draw me several inches backward until I was close enough to kick backward with my right foot. It collided with something that felt like a face, and a scream split the alley. The anchor on my other foot dropped away, and I was on my feet and running.

  I didn’t even think as my feet took me down familiar roads and alleys, ducking between buildings and clambering over fences as necessary. I had barely fit through the hole, he would never be able to do so. By the time he made it over the top or around to the other side of the wall, I had every intention of being long gone.

  So many hours spent with a needle in hand had decreased my fitness for such activities, and I was soon short of breath. A short distance after that, I had to stop, bending over and gulping deep breaths of air. Between gasps I looked around, getting my bearings.

  Good sense suggested I should have run for the governor’s mansion—Marcus wouldn’t dare touch me there. But instinct had led me to a very different part of the city. And I found I couldn’t regret my feet’s decision. Something was happening on the streets of Largo, and I needed to talk to the people who knew those streets better than anyone.

  Orienting myself, I took off again, moving more slowly and cautiously now. I saw no sign of Marcus but kept careful watch just in case. The streets emptied, and I entered a small pocket on the outskirts of the city full of crumbling buildings, most long ago abandoned. My eyes searched for a familiar sight, something to tell me I hadn’t come on a fool’s errand.

  There. I quickly crossed the street and slipped into a tiny alleyway. I strode halfway up it, marveling at how few steps it now took me to reach the boarded window at street height. I assessed it with my eyes. Would I fit through? I thought so—just.

  Feeling along the gap behind one corner of the boards with my littlest finger, I unhooked a series of clasps and swung the boards wide, revealing an empty window behind them. Taking a deep breath, I swung myself into the darkness beyond, feet first.

  My shoulders squeezed through with another ripping sound. I sighed. This dress was undoubtedly ruined by my day’s adventures.

  I had barely regained my balance in the dim space below ground when a small shape hit my chest hard and sent me hurtling backward. I landed with a solid thump and struggled to draw breath given the heavy weight now settled on my chest.

  “Someone get a light,” said a small voice off to one side and then a single spot of flame flared. It quickly spawned several more until a rosy glow filled the large room.

  I managed to wheeze several breaths in and out, before choking out, “Gerroff me.”

  “She sounds like one of us,” said the first voice, which turned out to belong to a grinning girl of indeterminate age. I doubted she was more than eight, however.

  “Look at ’er, though,” said another, his voice dripping with scorn. “She’s a full-sizer, she can’t be one of us.”

  “Check ’er for weapons so’s I can get up,” said the one sitting on my chest.

  The girl with the grin came forward and ran light hands over me. “She’s clean.”

  The youngster on my chest bounded off, springing off my ribcage. “Ooof,” I groaned, rolling over and pushing myself onto all fours. I took several full breaths before pushing myself up to standing.

  Looking around at the short statures around me, I reversed course and sat down. They all regarded me with eyes ranging from curious to suspicious to hostile. I counted seven children in the large den, ranging in age from what looked like four to almost teenagers. I knew from experience that more than seven likely lived here—the others must be out on the streets. I wished I’d brought some food as a peace offering, but I’d hardly had the time or opportunity to stop for some.

  The room, the large open basement of a long-abandoned shop, had all of its windows boarded. Grubby cushions formed a number of nests around the edges of the rooms, and several slightly broken shelves held a variety of treasures. Someone had attempted to hang brightly-colored pieces of material from the walls, presumably to brighten the place. It was a nice touch that hadn’t been here in my day.

  “What are you doing here, and how did you find us?” asked the scornful one when I didn’t say anything.

  I sighed and considered my answer. I hadn’t thought this far ahead.

  “I needed somewhere to hide. And I wanted to talk to you.”

>   The boy who had knocked me to the ground raised an eyebrow. “Talk to us? Nobody wants to talk to us.”

  “Well, more fools them, then. You rule the streets,” I said.

  The girl laughed. “See, I told you she was one of ours.”

  A fourth child, a slightly older girl, approached me for a closer look. “I ain’t never seen one of us dressed in clothes like that.”

  “But you heard her, she said our line. We rule the streets. She may look all fancy and stuff, but how would a noble girl know to say that?”

  “Maybe she got one of our old lot slaving away for her,” said the scornful boy with narrowed eyes.

  Now I was the one to raise my eyebrows. “One of you slaving away for a noble? Pull another one.”

  The cheerful girl chortled again. “If she’s not one o’ us, she knows us well enough. Ain’t we all here ’cause we didn’t want to slave for no one?”

  The boy who looked to be the oldest stood and walked toward me. He had been silent so far, examining me with searching eyes. He approached to within a foot of me and then leaned his head forward, squinting his eyes.

  “She weren’t ever one o’ us, exac’ly,” he said after a moment’s contemplation of my face. “But she most good as were.” He stepped back and looked around at the rest of them. “I never forget a face.”

  Even the scornful one seemed to accept this utterance, wandering away as if he had lost interest, although I noticed him casting surreptitious glances back in my direction.

  “Do you recognize me?” I asked the boy in some astonishment. “But I’ve been gone nine years, and you can’t be more than, what, twelve?”

  He gave me a gap-toothed grin. “Right on the money, you are Evie-girl. But my memory is second to none. I were only three back then, but I never forget a face.” He looked inordinately proud of himself.

  “Only three?” I tapped my lip thoughtfully and examined his face again. “Don’t tell me you’re little Howler!”

  He threw his head back at that and laughed. “Oh, aye, that’s what they used to call me, ain’t it. But I learned to stop the howling soon enough.” He puffed out his chest. “Youngest ever to join the crew, I was. I learned the ropes quick enough.” He thrust out a hand which I grasped and shook. “They call me Lookout now. Ain’t no one who can hoodwink me.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then you’re just the person I need to speak to.”

  Chapter 26

  Lookout’s stamp of approval seemed to give the other children confidence, and they swarmed all over me, examining my hair and clothes with eager, sticky fingers. I tried not to wince. It was hard now to believe I had ever felt at home in such grubby environs. But I had once felt far more welcome here than in the place that officially housed me.

  The young boy who had tackled me and the second girl both had faces so pale they almost glowed in the candlelight—northerner parents, then. The boy introduced himself with a wink as Whitey, and the girl as Reya. They had clearly all chosen names for themselves, in the typical manner of street urchins.

  The laughing girl was Dancer, and she informed me that the scornful boy was called Mastiff. The other two were apparently deemed too young to bother with.

  “Where did you get this dress?” asked Reya, running the folds through her fingers.

  “I made it.”

  “All on your own?” She regarded me with wide eyes.

  I nodded. “I taught myself how to sew. It’s how I made a life for myself.”

  “I wish I could learn to make dresses.” She looked downcast, her fingers still trailing over the material as if of their own volition.

  “I can teach you myself, back in Lanare, if you really want to learn,” I said. “Or find you an apprenticeship in Largo if you would rather stay here. But it’s no easy ride. If you want to get good, you’d have to work hard.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes alight. “I can work hard, if it’s for something I want.”

  Mastiff scoffed. “What did Dancer just say about us working for no one? You just going to throw that all away for a pretty dress, Reya?” He said her name like an insult.

  She glared at him. “You shut it, Mastiff. There ain’t nothing wrong with learning a proper craft if you can find someone’s willing to teach you. Didn’t Frostbite leave just a month ago? And he ain’t regretted it none. We can’t stay here forever, sure enough.”

  Mastiff glared back but made no further comment.

  I smiled at Reya, wondering what I had just taken on. “Well, you got some time to think on it. I’m here with the Royal Tour, I’m the official seamstress. We don’t leave for another two weeks, so come to the mansion in two weeks’ time if you want to leave with me.” I didn’t need to say which mansion.

  “Official seamstress to the royals?” Her eyes grew wide.

  “I always knew you was going to go far, Evie-girl,” said Lookout. “You was always too pretty not to.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes in reply.

  “You said you was here to talk,” said Mastiff. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  “No one knows Largo like the street urchins,” I said.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” crowed Whitey, slapping celebratory hands with Dancer.

  “Well, I’m guessing then that you’ve seen there’s something off.” Their smiles fell away, the mood instantly turning grim. “There’s something rotten in Largo, and I want to dig it out and destroy it. But first I need your help to find it.”

  The children exchanged glances, a complex language that I didn’t know them well enough to read. For a long moment I thought they weren’t going to tell me anything, and then Lookout shook his head and sighed.

  “Things ain’t been right around here ever since the Shadow Man showed up. And things won’t be right until he’s gone.”

  The others all nodded, except for Mastiff. But he neither scoffed nor protested, either, which I took as agreement.

  “Shadow Man? Who’s the Shadow Man?”

  Dancer looked at me and shivered. “That’s just what we urchins call him. Cause he’s always lurking in them.” Her expression transformed into one of indignation. “But that’s our territory. And we don’t like him bringing so many strangers into it.”

  “So he’s not from Largo? He’s a foreigner?”

  The children frowned at each other. Whitey scratched his head. “Now that’s ’arder to say,” he said. “He looks like one of ours.”

  “Sounds like one, too,” said Dancer. “Only not from the streets, for all he likes to pretend.”

  Lookout shrugged. “I already told you as how I don’t forget a face. He claims he grew up here and just went away for a while to learn to fight better, but I never saw ’im on the streets until real recent like. Just before that fool rebellion what happened up north last year.”

  “I guess he saw his chance,” said Reya. Street urchins understood power and its workings as well as any noble—they had to in order to survive—they just operated in an entirely different power structure, that of the streets.

  “He came in with weapons and men, and he took over the streets.” To my surprise, Mastiff joined the conversation. “We didn’t like it, then, but we don’t get involved with the full-sizers. Set themselves up in a warehouse and talked a lot about everyone getting their due.” He shrugged. “Sounds like nonsense talk to me, we each got what we make for ourselves. But some got real riled up by it.”

  “Then that rebellion happened, and we began to hear real ugly talk,” said Whitey, his face pinched. “Talk about kings and thrones and the moment being ripe. That’s when we knew for sure. We ain’t seen no ruler of the streets who wants to be a real king before. Naw, he ain’t one of us.”

  “A lot of new folks have come in since then.” Dancer looked worried. “And not folks like us. Hired fighters from up north. And nobles’ sons and merchants’ sons and the like to lead them.”

  “But never oldest sons, you note that,” said Mastiff. “If you ask me, he’s gathering an
army of folks who are dissatisfied with their lot in life. People who want to turn the tables on those who got more than they did.”

  I rubbed my head. “But Lanover is the richest of all the kingdoms. No one lives in true want here, the crown makes sure of that. Don’t they care about that?”

  Mastiff gave a harsh laugh. “Course they don’t. You mark my words, if they got into power, us poor folk would be the last to get any good things coming our way.” He shook his head. “But some folks’re never satisfied.”

  I thought of Marcus. No wonder he had been pulled into the rebellion. I wouldn’t want to live in a kingdom ruled by people like him. But were there even enough dissatisfied people in Lanover that they could convince an army’s worth to risk their lives?

  I considered their actions so far. Maybe not. Dancer had said they had brought northerners in. And it might explain why everything they had done so far was designed to sow chaos and dissatisfaction. They needed to upset the current balance to bring more people to their side. And then maybe, if they could strike a targeted enough blow…

  I stood to my feet. “I need to return to the mansion. The royals need to hear about this.”

  Whitey pulled on my hand. “But didn’chya say something ’bout hiding? When you first fell in here? Who you hiding from if not them royals?”

  A shiver ran down my spine. I looked around at my small audience. “Have any of you seen a newcomer? He would have arrived within the last few months. Tall, dark hair—a disgraced islander noble.”

  Dancer and Lookout exchanged glances.

  “Marcus,” they said together.

  Lookout turned to me. “Aye, we know ’im. Now he really ain’t one of us. Not that he knows it. Struts around the streets like he’s the king o’ Largo.”

  “He’s a vicious one,” said Dancer. “All the urchins know to steer clear of him.”

  “I used to know him, years ago.” I paused. “And I’m the reason he got banished from the islands. He has it out for me, and he got me cornered in Miller’s Alley.”