The Queen's Assassin

by Melissa de la Cruz

  That’s when the truth hits me.

  These are not Deersia prison guards.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Caledon

  CAL REFUSES TO GO BACK to that squalid cell. Even if it means dying. For now, though, he’ll pretend to be cowed and shackled. Let them think they have him while he formulates a better escape plan. But it’s hard to think. He is light-headed and slung over the back of a horse, which is jostling him around like cargo, making his ribs ache. He can’t even use his arms to adjust his body or steady himself.

  His hands are tied—quite literally. Shadow keeps trying to tell him something, motioning her eyes toward the guards, but he doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. If only she would just let him focus for a minute. He can admit she’s better trained than he’d thought, but she’s far too eager and impulsive. He hasn’t survived all this time by not knowing when to step back and think before acting.

  She’s mouthing something to him—he can’t make it out. Uprising? Off—something? Afraid of them? The caravan slows, and one of the guards walks his horse up closer to her as she rolls her eyes back in her head and begins muttering gibberish, as if she were severely injured and disoriented. Cal stays still and shuts his eyes as much as he can while peeking through a tiny sliver, enough to know if the guard comes toward him, but not enough to look fully conscious. The guard studies Shadow before stepping back behind the horses again, next to the other guard, apparently satisfied that she’s not a threat.

  Maybe he can slide off the back of the horse, kick the guard—if he’s really lucky, he can kick one into the other, and together they can take the other two? But can he count on her to carry her own weight in this attack?

  Shadow still has her eyes closed, and has started mumbling under her breath. What’s she doing?

  An owl hoots. Wings flap overhead. Another hoot. Owls begin to descend from the skies. Shadow opens her eyes to look. Then she closes them again.

  This time, a wolf howls; then another, a whole pack, it sounds like. Cal wishes he had his full strength; he’ll need it to get them out of these woods alive if there are nightwolves out here.

  The guards unsheathe their swords, look around nervously. “Better move faster,” one yells. The horses hesitate, lurching back a bit before being spurred forward.

  There’s a chorus of flapping wings and howling, and the howling is getting closer. Shadow’s face is scrunched in concentration and she continues to mouth something over and over again. The horses keep moving, but slower and with increasing reluctance.

  Cal realizes what she’s doing. Somehow she’s communicating with the owls and wolves, maybe the horses too. He’s heard of this kind of magic, but never seen it done—he didn’t think anyone could do that anymore.

  Shadow might not be so bad to have around after all. He wonders if she may even be able to teach him a few things. Despite many attempts to learn over the years, Cal was never gifted in the magical side of Guild training. He’s like his father in that way.

  The owls dive down out of the treetops, swarming around the horses.

  The guards bat them away, to no avail. The owls screech and peck, and the howls are getting closer. The horses rear and Cal is tossed from the saddle. He rolls to the ground.

  In the chaos, Cal sees his chance. He yanks on his restraints and leaps to his feet. He looks for Shadow but doesn’t see her.

  Owls are still swooping overhead, and the horses bolt. The men scream, and through the commotion he catches sight of her sleeve and fights his way to her side.

  Shadow is standing stock-still in the middle of the melee, her eyes closed and lips moving, even as a guard holds a blade to her neck.

  “SHUT UP, WITCH!” he growls.

  Cal lunges for the dagger when she suddenly opens her eyes and looks right at him. “NO!”

  He balks.

  Shadow falls limp, still whispering, and the guard strikes, but Cal disarms him so fast that the blade merely grazes her skin. Before the guard can react, Cal has turned the blade on him. But just as Cal begins his fatal strike, Shadow stays his hand.

  Cal stops, confused.

  “Don’t,” she says, and he knows she has seen him deal too much death this evening.

  It is what I do, he wants to tell her. I am the Queen’s Assassin. There is so much blood on his hands he is surprised they are not always red and dripping. He is the queen’s will, the throne’s hangman, protector of the crown of Renovia. He sends men and women to death before they even know their lives are in danger.

  But the owls are taking care of it for now—a great horde of them is clawing at each man. There’s a rumble of creatures prowling through leaves and branches coming toward them. This time it’s Shadow who pulls Cal into the brush, and they hide just as a pack of snarling nightwolves bursts out of the trees onto the path, only the silver glint of their eyes visible in the darkness. Their hunger is ferocious and tangible. The guards’ screams echo through the woods as they run and the wolves give chase.

  “You called them,” he says, catching his breath. “The owls and the wolves.”

  Shadow shrugs. “I was trying to finish the spell, and you almost got in the way.”

  “You’re a mage.” He can barely keep the awe out of his voice.

  “My aunts are. They taught me a little.”

  Someone else runs down the path. A kid. Looks like a kitchen hand. “Jander,” Shadow whispers. The boy turns his head and looks directly at them. Then runs away quickly.

  Another guard follows behind, grabs the boy by his shoulders. “Where’d they go?” he demands.

  Jander shrugs.

  The man curses. He shakes the boy. “Well, don’t stand there. Find them!”

  The boy nods and motions excitedly to the path. He points. The guard looks that way. “What is it?” the man asks. “You see them?”

  Jander nods again and points the other way, away from where Shadow and Cal are hiding.

  The guard shoves him in the back. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

  Jander begins running away on the path, kicking up dirt all around him. The guard mounts one of the remaining horses and clops away after him. Cal and Shadow wait to be sure all is clear. In the distance they can hear the sounds of men shouting, horses whinnying, a cacophony of hooting and snarling.

  “You know that boy?” Cal asks Shadow when he’s sure there’s no one nearby.

  “Yes . . . but . . .” She looks off in the direction the boy fled. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” They are quiet again, unsure if they should leave their hiding spot yet.

  “We should go before the guards return,” he says.

  “About the guards. I was trying to tell you earlier. They’re not from Deersia. They’re Aphrasians.”

  Cal’s heart drops into his stomach. Of course. He should have noticed it sooner.

  “I realized it when one of them blocked my magic. He had some kind of armor on his chest. A small piece but it was enough to reflect it back to me. That’s what knocked me out.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Yes, I’m certain. I could feel it. And I don’t think they were taking us back to the prison. Look how far west we are.”

  She was right; if they were being brought to Deersia, they would’ve been back by now. They hadn’t gotten far. But he’d been so occupied with escaping that he didn’t realize they were headed elsewhere. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. A magic repellant.”

  “I know that’s what happened.” She sighs and rolls her eyes.

  “Not saying I don’t believe you,” he says, noting just how quickly she grows defensive. “Good thing I was here, then,” he says with a grin. “To help you out when your magic couldn’t.”

  Instantly, he knows he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

  She shakes her head, li
ps curled in disgust. “You know . . . ,” she begins scolding him. But she quits speaking and abruptly puts a finger to her lips. He nods.

  Hooves are clopping down the path.

  But when the horses finally come into view, they are riderless. Standing before them are the two steeds they took from the prison stable.

  “I wasn’t sure they got the message through all the noise,” she says.

  Cal is impressed. Shadow just might end up being useful to him after all. They each pick up a sword from the ground and mount the horses. He still hears noises in the distance, but less screaming. Did the wolves finish off their captors? He hopes so. “We’ll take the south road,” he says.

  Shadow pulls her horse in front of his. “Yes. But when we come to the descent, stay alert. You might need to ‘help me out’ again,” she says, her voice thick with sarcasm.

  “That’s not what I meant . . . ,” he begins to say. But he supposes that is exactly what he meant. He considers trying to explain, but it doesn’t matter, as he’s speaking to her back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Shadow

  AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR him—the risks I’ve taken—and he acts like he’s the one coming to my rescue. He’d still be sitting in that cell—or dead—if it wasn’t for me.

  What an arrogant lout Caledon Holt, Great Master Assassin of Renovia, has turned out to be. I’m almost tempted to go back to my aunts’ farm and then on to the palace, where at least I can live out my days in comfort and warmth. But I can’t even pretend to want that. If I’m being honest, that’s still less appealing than sticking out the journey ahead with my knight in shining armor, Sir Full of Himself.

  So what if he saved my life a few dozen times this evening?

  The man is a terror with a sword. It’s clear he could have escaped Deersia anytime he wanted, so why didn’t he? Was he truly waiting for the queen to send for him?

  We don’t speak the entire way down the mountain path. Besides, we have to focus on managing the horses’ steps. I’m just glad we’re taking the road down and not the reverse. Going up to Deersia under these conditions would be even more daunting. And exhausting.

  We’re both relieved when we make it to the foot of the mountain, and so are the horses. I can feel the tension leaving my horse for now—as I rub his head. “Good boy. Good job.”

  “I have to apologize,” Caledon says finally. “I was skeptical at first but now I see why Queen Lilianna sent you for this.”

  “I appreciate that,” I say stiffly.

  He stares off down the road. I can tell he’s mulling something over. Then he looks back at me and says, “So do your orders include accompanying me to Montrice?”

  “Yes,” I say, because I want nothing more than to share his mission.

  “Huh.” He hesitates again. I know he still isn’t sure he can trust me.

  “I am to aid you in any way I can, which includes traveling to Montrice,” I insist, as I cannot be left behind.

  He nods and he must decide that he can finally trust me or that he won’t get rid of me so easily. I try not to look relieved. “Montrice may be funding the Aphrasians and helping them regain power. They may be plotting to invade Renovia.”

  I nod, letting him continue.

  “The queen believes a Montrician conspirator is aiding the Aphrasian monks, and we need to find out who it is and ensure that person isn’t a threat to Renovia ever again,” he says grimly.

  “Understood.”

  Caledon nods. “Good. In that case, let’s get moving.”

  * * *

  WE RIDE ON AT a steady pace for a while, each absorbed in our own thoughts. Even though I just traveled this way not too long ago, it all looks different. More menacing. Every large stone or tree looks like the ideal hiding place for an ambush of guards or thieves; I don’t like being out on this wide-open road either. We can be seen from miles away.

  “Once day breaks, we should head into the Black Woods,” I say, motioning toward the forest ahead. “There’s a road cut through there that should lead all the way into Montrice.” I know this only because I read it in one of my aunts’ books. I don’t tell him that, of course. “It’s tricky but will be less traveled. And easier to find cover.”

  “I don’t like it,” Cal says. “That’s the first place they’ll look,” he adds. “Anyone would take the first opportunity to get off the road. It’s the obvious move.”

  Not sure if he meant that as an insult, but it felt like one. “Even if they do, we’d still have a better chance of getting away. Where are we going to hide out here?”

  “We won’t have to hide. If we don’t stop, they can’t catch up. Crossing the woods will take longer.”

  Ridiculous. How has he even survived this long? It’s common sense—it’s almost like he wants us to be an easy target. “Queen Lilianna sent me in the name of the crown, and I say we go into the woods,” I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.

  “Unbelievable,” Cal mutters.

  We go on quietly for a few more minutes. Cal rides up right next to me. I stare ahead intently, ignoring his presence.

  “It’s vital we work together,” he says. “Arguments will only slow us down.”

  “We wouldn’t argue if you didn’t contradict everything I say. Hold on, I mean if you don’t want to hear anything I have to say. You think you have all the answers already!”

  He shakes his head. “You should follow my lead!”

  “But you interfered with my spell-casting!”

  “Was I supposed to let him hurt you? You said it yourself, I was helping you.”

  “What if I didn’t need help? I got us out of there, didn’t I?”

  “But . . .” His voice trails off and I feel somewhat triumphant.

  After some silence he says, “Fine, we’ll do it your way. We’ll take to the woods.”

  It’s not quite the triumph I was hoping for, but at least it’s a start.

  * * *

  THOUGH IT’S DAWN AND the sky is clear, as soon as we enter the forest it’s as pitch-black as the middle of the night again. The treetops obscure the bit of sun that was just beginning to peek above the horizon. I instantly regret insisting we go this way, but I’m not about to admit it. There’s nothing to be afraid of, anyway, and I maintain it makes more sense to stay off the main road. If a missing-prisoners bulletin goes out, a farmer could see us and either report it or attempt to detain us for the reward. That’s a headache we don’t need.

  I can tell Cal is thinking the same thing—that maybe the forest was a mistake—but for now, he doesn’t say anything. We’re forced to slow down due to the darkness and the condition of the path—the horses have to step carefully over half-buried branches and deep ruts. I can feel the eyes of the hidden wildlife watching as we go by. The horses are on edge. Out of nowhere something large flaps right past my head, spooking the horse and making it rear up. I stop to calm him. “Shh. Shh. It was just a bat.”

  Cal snorts.

  “The horses are tired. I think we should stop and rest them when we get to Alvilla,” I tell him.

  “Of course you do,” Cal says under his breath.

  My nostrils flare. “It’s close to the border. And we can’t push the horses that hard. What do you think we should do?”

  “I think we should have taken the main road and gone straight into Montrice. And now that we’re here . . . I still think we should go straight through.”

  “Do you? Or are you just saying that because you want to disagree with me?”

  “Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea to stop in town. People will be looking for two fugitives.”

  “But we need to stop in Alvilla. For the horses,” I say, even though that’s not quite the truth. The truth is I’m hungry and tired and I need to rest. Casting that spell took a toll on me, but I don’t want him to kno
w how weak I am. I don’t want him to win.

  Cal shrugs in response. We don’t speak again for a while.

  A bit farther on I hear something. “Wait.” I put up a hand as I try to make out what it is. It may just be something wild, but I need to be sure. I listen intently, beyond the sounds directly surrounding us, into the distance. “Horses,” I say softly. “And armed men.”

  “Looking for us?” Cal asks me.

  I focus on the sounds, but it’s too far to hear clearly. Not that we need to. Armed men don’t usually enter the woods at dawn. This is my fault. We’re being followed just like Cal said we would be.

  Worse, they have tracking dogs. I can hear their barking more distinctly as they draw near. We can’t outrun them once they pick up our scent. They’ll just keep coming and coming until eventually . . . I close my eyes and try to think, and then I hear something else. A great rumble coming from the other direction.

  “We need to outpace them,” Cal says.

  “I have an idea,” I say, opening my eyes. “Follow me.”

  If I’m right, there’s a crossroads ahead. If I’m wrong, we’re in real trouble.

  “We can’t ride too fast; I don’t want to risk making too much noise. The guards may not pick up on it, but the dogs will,” I tell him. We go at a steady pace but I hear the dogs getting louder, closer. I also hear the thundering noises getting louder from the other side. I begin pleading: Please let this work. Please. Please. Please. It has to.

  Finally we come to the crossroad in the woods. “Which way?” Cal asks.

  “Straight ahead,” I answer. “But not yet. Wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Trust me,” I say, as much to myself as to Cal. I close my eyes again. From one direction, I still hear the guards approaching; from the other, the commotion I’d heard barreling toward us. “On my word, we bolt down the path.”