Will looked away, hot shame rushing over his face. “I’m sorry.”
“We get you’re mad,” Colin said in a soothing voice. “I would be too if it were me but we’re trying to help Will. We really are.”
Not sure of what to say, Will only nodded and watched from the edge of the trees as the three others left, striding down the hill and toward the city with hoods drawn and in silence. The guilt writhed still worse in his chest as they at last vanished over a ridge. How childish was he to hold this against him? They were here, weren’t they? They were risking everything just as much as he was to save the Ranger.
The shame continued to eat at him for the hours that drug on, each slower than the last, while he cleaned up the camp, drew dirt diagrams and tried, and failed, to come up with plans as to how they might save the Ranger. It was hard to formulate ideas when unsure if the Ranger was to be held in a tower or in a dungeon, in the castle or perhaps hidden somewhere in a barrack or even in the city.
Several times, Will thought he heard the distant rumble of voices and bolted toward Admere, snatching up the sword, only to hold his breath and wait for the silence to stretch once more. By afternoon, his nerves were on edge and he had paced a thin track in the soft earth from the camp to the forest edge, searching the roads below for the return of his three friends. Where were they? Surely he should see them coming back by now?
Frustrated, he spun round and caught sight of the bag Niet had brought with assorted tunics and cloaks. He only hesitated a moment before changing into one and grabbing from the depths of his own bag his grey cloak. Throwing it over his shoulders he half ran from the camp, through the last trees, and into the open light of the valley that stood between him and Thorwal.
He would meet them outside of town because they had to be on their way back by now, surely. It couldn’t be taking them that much time. He would only make it halfway, perhaps, and Rowan would come bounding toward him or Colin would roll his eyes and demand to know why Will had to be so thick as to come out here.
When each step didn’t bring them into sight, he had to swallow a new mounting fear that they had all been captured too. That he would have to turn himself in not just for the Ranger, but for all his friends.
He was almost to the city’s edge, the sound reaching his ears, when he noticed something on one of the trees that bordered the path. Slowing, he stared at the parchment and anger flared in his chest. Drawn over the parchment was a poor illustration of a boy with dark hair and pale eyes.
Wanted Alive–Runaway Prince. Son of Marl, King of Kelkor
Reward for his safe return. May be armed and dangerous if provoked. If sighted, please alert Thornten or Kelkorian guards.
Signed, King Marl of Kelkor.
Will’s hand had reached for the poster, prepared to rip it to shreds, before good sense returned, and he let his fingers drop back to his sides.
To destroy it would be a giveaway that someone was in the area that knew him, that perhaps he was there. Very well. If Marl was going to hunt him like this, using the full power of the city, he would have to take after the Ranger. He would have to become invisible. Pulling his hood lower, he ducked his head and continued toward the city, hoping against hope that no one would notice him.
Luck was on his side. No one even seemed to see him through the bustle of life, the rumbling of carts over uneven footing, the hollers of vendors selling the last of their stores. Judging by the multiple different color banners Will saw on saddle blankets, it seemed guests were rolling in from other courts for the celebration of Marl’s crowning and the death of the Ranger.
The moment he entered the outskirts of the city, he could feel the excitement buzzing around him. Wherever he walked, he caught snatches of conversation, people eager for the execution of the Traitor Prince. Anger made Will grit his teeth and he had to hide his hands in his pockets to conceal that they were balled into fists and shaking. What he wouldn’t do to punch even just one of the teenagers laughing on the side street, pulling grotesque faces as if they were being executed.
But that would have to be for another adventure. Right now, he had to keep people from noticing him and he had to find the others. Once he found them, they could sit down and plan how they were going to save the Ranger. That would wipe the smirks off every face, even if he couldn’t punch anyone.
Not sure of where to go, Will followed the streams of people that still flocked forward, toward the distant towers of the castle that hovered above the city. He had to keep himself from gawking up at the cold walls, a sick feeling in his chest. That was where they were keeping the Ranger and that was where Marl hid…
“Out of the way, business of the crown!”
Will jerked round and automatically his hand dove into the folds of his cloak, to the hilt of his dagger. Three horsemen were riding through the throng of people, toward Thornten. Young riders, their hoods barely concealing their faces, their grey cloaks fluttering over their dark horses. Cutthroats. The Cutthroats were here, in Thornten.
Moving as quickly as he could without attracting attention, Will ducked his head and hurried toward a vendor at the side of the street, pretending to be interested in the assortment of vegetables for sale. Instinct was screaming at him to run, flee back toward the forest, as the riders neared then passed. Only when they were out of sight did he wave away the vendor’s insistence that he needed the bundle of carrots he’d been looking over and start moving again. Now he was more alert. The Cutthroats were out here. Were they looking for him then? Would they be patrolling the forest?
He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely noticed the people around him. It wasn’t until an arm fell over his shoulders that he was yanked back to reality, leaping into the air and biting back a scream.
“Why the long face, eh?”
“Rowan!” Will hissed, glowering from under his cloak at the grinning face next to him. “You trying to kill me?”
“I thought that bossy one and bossy two told you not to be here?” Rowan said, winking and taking a large bite out of the apple he was holding.
“You all said you’d be back by afternoon,” Will pointed out, stepping sideways. He blinked, taking in Rowan’s appearance fully. “What the blazes have you got on your face?”
“What? This?” Rowan ran a hand over his jaw, which was stained a dark brown color, cocking one eyebrow. “It’s a disguise.”
Unable to help himself, Will snorted with a stifled laugh. “You look like an idiot.”
“Yeah, well look who snuck up on who? I’m practically a master spy now, thank you very much,” Rowan snapped, rolling his eyes. “Now I’m not sharing my apple.”
“Doesn’t faze me,” Will shrugged, turning on the spot. “Where are the others?”
“Dunno,” Rowan said through his mouthful. “Wannared off tis mor and haffin seen em.”
Will stared at Rowan, torn between amusement, disgust, and frustration. “You all split up this morning?”
“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport, they’re round here somewhere. We’d know by now if they were caught,” Rowan said, rolling his eyes again and shoving the half-eaten apple in his pocket. “Come on, if we don’t get back before them they’ll panic.”
Will threw a glance back toward the darkening towers of the castle then nodded grudgingly and fell into step beside Rowan, retracing the route he’d only just taken. “You see the Cutthroats are here?”
Rowan’s lip curled in a sneer. “They’ve been crawling around all day, the sleazy little prats.”
Will let out a hollow laugh. “Probably looking to see if I’m going to do exactly what I’m doing.”
“What? Coming into a city plastered with posters of your face and a fat reward? Probably.” Rowan smirked, bumping Will with his shoulder. “You look simply dashing in those portraits with that hooked nose and thin face they’re giving you.”
“Shut up.”
“I even took one, thought we could hang it on the wall in Alamore as a way to reme
mber that time we vacationed in Thornten.”
“Did you find out anything useful?” Will asked, deciding it was best to change the subject.
“Of course I did,” Rowan huffed, looking mildly offended. “I just told you, haven’t I, that I’m a master of spying now? Kelkor guards are helping man the castle with Thornten ones, as the gates were open all morning. They closed them just as the sun started to sink. But they’ve been letting people in and out of there, they have stalls along the edges of the courtyard–which is really quite a pretentious size, honestly, makes me think they’re trying to prove a point–and they’ve set up a stage. I didn’t see your darling concerned father, your sweet uncle, or that hooded bloke we’re trying to save. But I did see our Cutthroat friends. Even heard our darling Cutthroat Prince screaming orders at people…prat.”
Will nodded, jaw clenching. “The stage, that’s where they plan to execute him then?”
“Or hold a breathtaking performance of a soppy love play, one of the two. Considering the talk round town though, yeah, probably the murdery one.”
“Did you hear where they are keeping him or anything?” Will pressed. They were on the edge of town now, at the base of the hill, and the last brilliant of the light of the sun was just visible above the dark treetops.
“No luck there.” Rowan shook his head. “I was mostly helping out some old chap selling food in the courtyard, it seemed a good place to stand round and listen and I got to eat. Colin and Niet were trying to get a more in-depth idea as to where…”
Rowan’s voice drifted and it was a moment before Will realized he had stopped. Turning to him, frowning, Will was surprised to see Rowan’s face reddening with guilt. “You alright?”
“Eh not good…we’re in trouble now,” Rowan whispered, eyes fixed ahead.
Will turned and felt his stomach swoop. Striding toward them, one hand resting on the blue stone of the sword at his side, the man paused on the dirt track and gave a cold and dangerous growl of laughter. “If I wasn’t here to keep people from getting killed,” Ross growled, blue eyes flashing, “I might very well murder you myself.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
They didn’t speak the rest of their walk back up the path. Ross’s fingers digging into Will’s shoulder felt like an iron manacle. On Ross’s other side, Rowan was still swearing under his breath.
Once in the forest, without any word from them, Ross pushed them forward through the thickets to their small camp. Will felt another jolt of unpleasant surprise as they entered the camp to see Colin and Niet seated beside a fire, both with glum expressions, while above them stood Sir Laster, his arms crossed over his chest, amber eyes narrowed.
“Oh blazes, couldn’t you have at least just brought Rockwood?” Rowan demanded, breaking his silence at last.
Ross didn’t answer, pushing them forward toward Niet and Colin with a grunt. Staggering a step, Will caught himself and moved to sit on Colin’s other side. Colin shot him a scathing look. “What happened to staying here?”
“You lot were late,” Will hissed. “And I don’t think that’s the issue right now.”
“You should probably realize that none of you are good at staying where you ought to.” Laster sneered. “That he left shouldn’t be a surprise given that all of you should have stayed in the castle, where you belong.”
“How did you find us?” Niet demanded, scowling at Ross.
“We’ve been tracking you since last night,” Ross growled.
“Since before you left, really,” Laster added, moving to stand beside Ross.
“What? That makes no sense,” Rowan interjected, shaking his head. “How can that be the case?”
“Because,” Ross growled, eyes flashing. “When we were leaving, I noticed which horses weren’t in the barn. The soldier told me that Kalia and her squire friend had brought them to town to be reshod.” His eyes flitted to Niet. “That’d be you then, wouldn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, but Ross waited and when Niet didn’t answer, the knight nodded. “In future, perhaps it’s best you take a few extra horses to make it less suspicious or, better yet, not help these three out of the castle.”
“Why were you two leaving?” Will demanded. “Your patrol was in the morning, wasn’t it?”
“You did pay attention a bit then, didn’t you?” Laster asked, lip curling. “We weren’t going on patrol.”
“Then why-” Will started.
Laster cut across him, sneering. “Didn’t you listen at all in the council the other day? Ross and I know our way around Thornten, the castle and the lands.”
Will stared at them. “I thought the King said no one was to go for the Ranger.”
Ross gave a hollow laugh. “The King didn’t know we were leaving.”
“So,” Rowan said, a sly grin curling his mouth. “You two are learning from us, eh? Decided to get out, stretch your legs, try your hand at escaping? I could teach you a thing or two about being a spy too, if you’d like. I’m somewhat of a master.”
Laster shot Rowan a scathing look. “Whatever you’ve painted your face with looks ridiculous, Lonric. Anyway, that the King didn’t know we were leaving isn’t any of your concern. We are knights. We don’t need permission to leave. We came armed with more than daggers.”
“We have two swords and a bow,” Rowan protested.
“So, if you weren’t tracking us, you came for the same reason we did,” Will said, hurrying to break through the argument he knew Rowan was about to start.
Ross nodded, running a hand through his brown hair and closing his eyes a moment. “Yes. That was the plan.”
“What do you mean was?” Will asked sharply. “It’s still the plan. We’ve got time, we can save him.”
“We aren’t doing a damn thing. This rescue of the Ranger just became the rescue of four squires,” Laster snapped.
“What?” Will stared between them in disbelief. “Because we’re here you’re just going to give up and escort us back?”
“Will, they are after you.” Ross’s eyes opened, reflecting the flames of the small fire. “They are after you, they want you if anything more than they want the Ranger and we are not risking that happening.”
“They won’t catch me!” Will insisted, rising to his feet. “We can help save the Ranger.”
“You think you could do anything but get in the way?” Laster asked, smirking. “That is a childish thought indeed.”
“We made it this far, haven’t we?” Will pressed. “We got here didn’t we?”
“And you’re lucky you’re not already dead,” Ross growled.
Niet rose to his feet, shaking his head. “We’re not leaving. We’re going to get the Ranger out of here.”
Laster raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure your knight would appreciate that sentiment, considering her love for the Ranger.”
Niet’s face darkened. “Last I heard, Laster, she doesn’t think you’re too fond of the Ranger either. I bet you loved finding us here, it’s a good excuse to turn tail and leave him to die. From what she’s said, you’ve always been spiteful, been jealous, hated the Ranger for being in Alamore as much or more than she has.”
Silence fell over the small group. Will started between Laster and Niet, suddenly wishing he had one of the swords so he could stand between them. The look that Laster was giving Niet was terrifying; a cold, calculating, smile. It held more danger than any sneer or snarl Will had ever seen.
“Jealous, am I?” His voice was as cool as his smile, even, and low. “You think it’s jealousy that makes me hate the Ranger? Think it’s envy that makes me despise him? Tell me, boy, do you think your knight tells you everything? Do you think your little act of saving the Ranger fools any of us? You’re after revenge against Marl, and this happens to be an excuse in your own mind. It makes you feel like you’re doing something for the better, doesn’t it? Do you think you’re the only one that Marl has ever tormented? Your brother, Paxrin, was killed by a Kelkor rebel, wasn’t he? Yes. And you’re going
to kill Marl for causing that traitor? I imagine that will bring you some relief in your mind.
“But you see, the difference is that when I lost someone to Marl, I saw Marl murder them. When it came down to steel on steel, I watched my knight fall, unarmed, with a sword through his chest, while I was held back from taking his place.”
Laster took a step nearer, amber eyes blazing and Niet took a step back, the anger melting to horror in his face.
“You lost your brother, and I might as well have lost my father. He was the one who cared if I lived or died. Imagine watching Serena die, begging attackers to let her squire go. Or if it had been Paxrin, begging on his knees for your safety? Do you know what it’s like to be captured and taken into Thornten? Because, boy, you won’t enjoy it if it’s you. You’d learn to hate the Ranger too if he’d been the one holding you back. You’d hate him for being the reason you couldn’t sacrifice yourself to save your knight. Even if he’s how you got out of Thornten, even if he turned his back on his family to help you escape, it’d be too late. You’d hate him for being on Marl’s side as he killed a pleading man.”
None of them spoke. Will stared at Laster, ice in his veins freezing him to the ground. The amber eyes had shifted to his blue ones, and they blazed with the same fury that filled Serena’s own.
Will imagined for a moment a young version of Laster struggling to break free of the Ranger, to save his knight from Marl. And a small piece of Laster’s hatred, his cool mannerism and sarcasm, seemed to break away before him as Will imagined Haru being killed. He would hate the Ranger if it were him. He’d want to kill the Ranger, Marl, all of them. He’d want them all to feel some semblance of his agony.
“Why are you here then?” The question came from Will unbidden, a low whisper.
Laster’s face contorted into its sneer again and he took a step back, straightening. “Because there’s nothing worse than owing your life to someone you hate. The Ranger saved me from Thornten.” He snorted, lip curling back into its usual sneer. “Marl captured me to ransom me to my father.” He spat the word as though it were poison. “I’m the fourth son of a powerful Duke in the mountains that border Alamore and Shadow Dale. They thought they could turn him spy against the old King, against Paradon. Their father must have loved them more than mine loved me to think that would work. My father’s response took two weeks longer than expected and was only four words. “I’ll mourn my son.””
The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2) Page 37