The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2)

by C. J. R. Isely

  Will didn’t answer, only nodding and, together, the three of them loosened their reins and charged forward. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as hoofs clattered deafeningly over the wood of the drawbridge. Surely that sound would be enough to muster whatever guards should have been in the courtyard.

  Though none of them spoke, Will urged Admere to take the lead down the path that twisted to the left–away from the dark Western Forest and instead racing in the direction of the other stand of trees. The trees that stood between Alamore and Thornten. That, he was sure, was the route that Niet would take. Marl would be aiming to return to his brother’s fortress and Niet meant to kill him on that road.

  Admere didn’t hesitate, his arched neck stretching to catch the air, speeding beneath him. Had it been any other time, Will might have marveled at the freedom of galloping, the cool night air on his face.

  As it were, all he could envision were grey shadows flitting through the night on either side. Twice, he turned his head, releasing one hand from his reins to grab at his dagger but both times it had been either Rowan or Eldin alongside him for a few strides.

  None of them slowed until they reached the outskirts of the woods, where the moon’s feeble light reflected off the leaves and the path ahead vanished into the blackness.

  “The adventure continues?” Rowan asked when Will hesitated, pulling Admere to a halt at the edge of the trees.

  Will glanced at Rowan and Eldin. Rowan was grinning nervously, his rein-free hand gripping his dagger so hard that his knuckles stood out white even in the barely-there light of the moon. Beside him, Eldin’s face was scared but determined, her jaw jutted in a defiant manner. She gave him the smallest of nods, which he returned, twisting back to the forest path ahead.

  “Okay, Ad, onward we go then.”

  The horse didn’t need more encouragement and, seeming to sense Will’s discomfort, moved with slow and deliberate strides, ears swiveling to catch any sounds. The further they rode into the forest, the more Will wished they could turn round and go back for help, but Rowan was right. Every moment Niet was out was another moment where he could be killed by The Cutthroat Prince.

  Still, he couldn’t keep himself from starting at small noises: the wind rustling the branches above them, the flutter of wings as a bird flew between trees, the crack of a twig under Admere’s feet, the breathing of their horses. In the dark, the sounds seemed to reverberate, telling the world that they were there. What if The Cutthroat Prince finds us before we find Niet? an unbidden voice seemed to ask, over and over, inside his head. What if…

  The world jerked him from his thoughts as Admere came to an abrupt halt, throwing his head high in the air, his muscles coiling beneath Will. Behind him, he heard Eldin gasp in surprise and Rowan give a string of whispered oaths. It seemed their horses had stopped as well, catching them unaware.

  Will reached for his dagger, heart slamming in his ears, eyes straining to make out anything in the night. The trees around them were looming shadows, the thicket impossible to see through. Nothing seemed to be moving but Admere was still standing rigid, his ears pricked forward.

  After a moment that might have contained a lifetime, Rowan’s voice whispered forward, “Will? You see anything?”

  Will shook his head, still staring in the direction Admere was searching. “Nothing. You two?”

  “I can barely see my nose in this forest right now and that’s on my face,” Rowan grumbled. “Eldin? Anything on your side?”

  “Not that I can see,” she replied slowly. “Might have just been a squirrel? Something that just ran past, and the horses got scared?”

  “That’s it,” Rowan said decisively, making Will start and twist in his saddle, expecting to see an attacker. Instead, his friend was shaking his head, scowling around them. “I don’t think I like this much.”

  “Then turn back,” Eldin snapped. Will could tell by her own colorless features that she, like him, had thought Rowan had seen something approaching. She scowled at him, clearly annoyed. “But I’m finding Niet.”

  Rowan returned her glower. “Did I say I was going to wimp out? I said I didn’t like it. You need me here anyway, to protect your fair maiden self.”

  “Rowan, Eldin, shut up,” Will retorted in a sharp whisper as Eldin opened her mouth to argue, eyes flashing.

  “Don’t you tell me,” Eldin started but Will spun, lunging sideways to clamp a hand over her mouth.

  “There’s something ahead of us!”

  They all froze, listening. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, waiting. Waiting. Then, through the darkness, Will saw the slightest shift of shadow, something moving toward them ahead and he raised his dagger, ready to strike, heart deafening in his ears. Behind him, he could feel Rowan and Eldin do the same. There was a moment of painful realization that he’d led them into this, that they were about to be attacked and…

  The figure stepped nearer and gave a snort of disgust, lowering the sword he gripped in one hand. “Storms and seas, you three!” Niet snarled, his features melting from cold fury to annoyance. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” Eldin demanded hotly. “You shouldn’t be here! Did you seriously think you could take on Marl? Alone? And now that he’s a King?”

  Niet’s eyes flitted from Eldin, to Rowan, and finally to Will and his shoulders slackened. He sighed, sheathing the sword at his side once more. All of the fight of a moment before melted away and he ran a hand over his face, groaning. “I want to kill him.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed yet, mate, there’s a line and you best get in the back of it,” Rowan said, laughing. “We all want to kill him.”

  Niet looked between them, stormy eyes darkening. “If I find him now, though, before he gets to Thornten…”

  “He’ll be with soldiers, Niet,” Eldin snapped. “He’s a King now. Don’t you think they’ll be expecting something like this?”

  “She’s right.” Will nodded. “He’ll be ready for someone to come after him. If they don’t know the Ranger is injured, they might even think it’s him. Even if he didn’t have soldiers around him, even in a one-on-one fight, Marl isn’t someone you’d want to duel. He’d still kill you.”

  Niet straightened, narrowing his eyes at Will. “Are you saying I’m not a good enough swordsman to fight him?”

  “He’s saying you’re being an idiot,” Rowan interjected in a sweet voice. “Now, come on. This forest gives me the creeps and, I’m not so sure about you all, but if we could get back before Ross realizes we’re gone, I’d appreciate it. Marl is scary and all, but Ross is a short tempered, well-armed, git, who is in the walls that are there to protect us. I think he’s the bigger threat right now.”

  Niet hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder, toward the darkness, and Will saw the internal battle playing out over his features. Sighing, Will shook his head. “Please, Niet. Come back with us. You can’t walk all the way to Thornten anyway. Kalia needs you guarding her at the castle.”

  “But Marl is why I don’t have a brother,” Niet snapped, turning back to Will, grief washing over his face. “He’s why Paxrin is dead.”

  “And Paxrin wouldn’t want you dead.” Eldin’s voice was so small that Will thought he had imagined it a moment. All three boys turned to her, slunk down in her saddle. Even in the darkness, Will saw the tears reflecting in her overly bright eyes. “Please, Niet. We all miss Paxrin…please come back to Alamore. We’ll go after Marl, we’ll kill him, I promise, but not right now. Paxrin died to save us. We can’t just throw that away.

  “Please…please get on Kelpie with me and we’ll ride back.”

  Niet nodded and turned his face away and made a fuss of adjusting the straps of his sword sheath. He was hiding his face, Will knew. Hiding the pain, the grief, the loss. A knot rose in Will’s own throat as he imagined Niet’s suffering, what he and Eldin had gone through. He had seen what grief could drive a man to do the year before when King Giltor of Shadow Dale had
led his army to slaughter over the death of his best knight. His friend Treck had nearly died in that battle, starving for revenge. But this was different. At that time, Will had thought Treck insane, Giltor a fool. Now, however, glancing at Rowan’s unusually serious face in the darkness, Will felt a stab of hate and pain toward Marl stronger than ever before. Part of him wanted to break free of logic and charge into the forest, find Marl, and make him pay for what he had done. He hadn’t even known this Paxrin, he didn’t have brothers, but imagining Rowan or Colin… he swallowed hard and shivered. He couldn’t think that way. He had to stay focused.

  “Right.” He turned Admere to see Niet swinging into the saddle behind Eldin, adjusting himself on the grey’s back. “We need to get back to Alamore.” He forced a grin, raising his brows. “Or Rowan’s premonition of Ross killing us might just come true.”

  “And then we will need someone to avenge us instead, and that is just going to get exhausting to keep score of,” Rowan pointed out. “So, let’s chop chop and trot trot back to the walls, shall we?”

  A low laugh whispered in the trees surrounding them, making all four squires start. Admere sprang forward several steps, almost unseating Will in his surprise.

  Will reached for his dagger again, blood running cold. He didn’t need to see the shadows drawing toward them or hear the hiss of steel drawn from sheaths to know. He already knew what to expect even before the cool voice spoke from the pathway behind them, blocking their retreat. “And here I was, imagining I would have to ride all the way to the walls myself. How thoughtful of you to save me the journey.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Oh, not this prat again! Come off it, can’t you just buzz off and find something better to do with your time? Seriously?” Rowan demanded. Will wished he could throw his elbow into Rowan’s ribs to get him to shut up.

  The Cutthroat Prince laughed coldly as a low hiss of fury rattled from the forest around them. “Oh, not only do we get the heir to Kelkor, but also two squires and a jester? Lucky us.”

  “Don’t you dare touch any of them,” Will growled, tightening his grip on Admere’s reins. The small horse shifted, arching his neck and pinning his ears at The Cutthroat Prince’s larger black horse. “Let them go and-”

  “You’ll come quietly?” asked The Cutthroat Prince, the sneer evident in his voice. “Do you think I’m that thick as to fall for that a second time? No. You’ve used your good graces with me, Will. I won’t have you continuing to make a fool of me.”

  “Don’t need Will to help you with that, you do it just fine on your own,” piped in Rowan. Will heard a quiet thud and Rowan’s grunt of pain. “Eldin, don’t punch, it’s not ladylike.”

  The Cutthroat Prince’s head turned away from Will to the others and seemed to only now take in Niet and Eldin on the grey horse. Every muscle in Will’s body was on edge, his frantic heart echoing strangely in his ears. He didn’t like the way that The Cutthroat Prince was eyeing Eldin and Niet, watching them closely.

  “A lady in your midst?” he asked slowly. Will braced himself to strike, noticing Niet reaching for his own sword. “Draw that blade and I promise you’ll be holding a dead damsel,” The Cutthroat Prince snapped. “I’ve archers in this forest and her life means nothing to me, but I can’t imagine that any such noble Alamore squires would be able to stand.” His head turned slowly back to Will and Will could feel the eyes boring into his from under the hood, “the murder of a girl.”

  “You want to get to her, you’d have to kill me,” Will snarled. “Any of them, touch any of them, and so help me I’ll-”

  “Stab me with that needle you call a knife?” asked The Cutthroat Prince sweetly. “Oh, I am scared now. Let’s make this simple then, shall we? I don’t want to be bothered with the task of taking all of you back to Thornten but you’re coming with us. As the new heir to Kelkor, I think it best you keep your loyalty where your blood is, don’t you?”

  Will didn’t answer, only waiting, teeth gritted, and dagger raised. It took all of his self-control not to recoil at The Cutthroat Prince’s words. Behind him, he heard Eldin’s gasp and Niet give a low growl. They had known this, they had all known this, but The Cutthroat Prince’s words were confirmation. It seemed that he knew already that King Azric was dead.

  “I’m sorry, I guess word hasn’t reached Alamore yet,” The Cutthroat Prince laughed. “I forgot that Marl has been ensuring it wouldn’t. You see, if you had just waited in Alamore, you might have heard word from him. I don’t imagine it’ll be long before he’s seeking a meeting with King Revlan to discuss alliances in Kelkor. Pity so many of the messengers sent by the rebels in his country failed to keep their heads long enough to reach you. Entertaining, isn’t it? How quickly power can change?” When none of them responded, he snorted in annoyance. “Alright, keep your silence. What’s going to happen is this–the girl is getting onto Draccart’s horse and riding with him. Will, you will ride with us of your own volition but, so help me, the slightest sign you’re going to fight us and she’s dead. The other two can ride back to Alamore. If they attempt anything, again, Draccart will kill the girl. Are we clear?”

  “You underhanded son of a two bit,” Rowan started but Eldin reached across her saddle to cuff him in the back of the head.

  “Don’t,” she hissed. “You’re going to make it worse.”

  “Wise move, girl,” The Cutthroat Prince chuckled. “Now, Draccart, why don’t you assist the fair lady in changing horses? If we ride out now we can reach Thornten by early morning.”

  “You’re not taking Eldin,” Niet snarled.

  The Cutthroat Prince sighed dramatically. “I don’t think I was asking your permission. You see, that’s the benefit of being the one with the upper hand. I’ve got nine armed riders, there are four of you sharing one sword. I’ll let you figure the odds of who would win a fight.”

  “If your even try to take her, I’ll…”

  “Niet,” Eldin hissed, throwing the older squire a sharp look. Facing forward, Will could see the determination fighting to hide her fear as she turned to The Cutthroat Prince. “You’ll let them go.”

  “Naturally, my lady.” The Cutthroat Prince sketched a mocking bow from his saddle, head tilting upwards to keep his eyes on her. “We’ll even let them keep their horses.”

  “Eldin,” Will said warningly. “Don’t,”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Eldin cut across him, her narrowed gaze still fixed on The Cutthroat Prince. “Niet and Rowan can ride back to Alamore for help.”

  He could hear the false hope in her words and icy fingers gripped his chest. She knew what they were getting into. She knew, like him, that Niet and Rowan would race to the castle and lead a charge for them but that it’d be too late. The Cutthroat Prince and his riders could have them miles away by then.

  “I’ll go,” Niet turned to The Cutthroat Prince, dark eyes blazing. “You can take me instead.”

  “And let you and Will find a way to overpower us? I highly doubt that would be as entertaining as you hero type always portray it.” The Cutthroat Prince sneered. “I’ve had enough of this. Hand over the girl now or we resort to blades.”

  There was a soft crunch of leaves, the sound of Eldin sliding from the horse to the ground before Niet could stop her. “Eldin, don’t-”

  “Get to Alamore,” she ordered firmly.

  Will turned away, hating himself for being the reason for all of this. Hating himself for the blood in his veins.

  “Good girl,” The Cutthroat Prince purred, shifting in his saddle, one hand falling to rest on his dagger. “Draccart, come collect the girl. Make sure she’s not armed–you know Kelkor arms their women…the morons.”

  A shadow detached itself from the dark with the faint song of tack jingling and Will recognized the hulking form, the strange, jagged edge sword swinging from the saddle.

  “Alright, girl, get over here,” Draccart barked.

  “So help me, you lay a hand on her, and I’ll rip you
apart with my teeth if I have to,” Rowan snarled.

  The Cutthroat Prince snorted. “If I had the time, I’d ensure you couldn’t by knocking your teeth down your throat. You two, step away from Will and the girl. Now. It’s time you leave.”

  “I’m not leaving Eldin,” Niet said steadfastly.

  “I don’t think you understand that you don’t have a choice,” The Cutthroat Prince said, and Will could hear the irritation tainting his words. “I said go.”

  “Get out of here.” Will turned on Niet and Rowan. “Please get out of here.” He could sense the riders around them shifting, uneasy, preparing to strike.

  “Will,” Rowan started.

  “Go!” Will barked, loud enough to make Admere start in surprise.

  Rowan threw Will a scathing look before loosening Naja’s reins. “Get killed and I promise, Will, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Fine,” Will snapped, barely listening. All he could truly hear was the slam of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears. They needed to get out of here before The Cutthroat Prince changed his mind. He had to find a way to save Eldin and the best chance he had was Rowan and Niet getting help.

  Niet said nothing, passing Will with his head bowed, his expression one of the utmost loathing. Will thought it was directed at him until Niet paused, moving past The Cutthroat Prince, and lifting his gaze to the hooded figure.

  “Should anything happen to Eldin…”

  “You’ll no doubt kill me in a painful way, yes, I understand the way that threats work. I get it,” The Cutthroat Prince said coolly. “But let me make a promise of my own–do anything to stop us, and she’ll be dead.”

  Niet growled, turning his horse to follow Rowan back toward the path. Will watched them riding away, his heart sinking. They hadn’t succeeded. There wasn’t any way of escaping, no brilliant ideas rushing forward. He wished that he had woken Haru, brought him along. At least Haru had the brain to get them out of this.