Page 153 of Settle Down, Princess

I may have said something to that effect.

“What are you…?” Selene appeared at the gate, then sighed at the sight of us, seeming to glean so much from our appearance. The daughter of the Raven, she had to be a quick study. “Gods, you’re here for Jessalyn. Tell me you weren’t followed.”

“Can’t promise that,” I replied with a grin.

“Then for the sake of the gods, get in here fast, before anyone else sees you.”

Our horses were taken away by postulants, but I wouldn’t have been able to tell you about a single thing about any of the girls if you levelled a sword at me. My eyes instead roamed across the murals on the walls, taking in the flickering candles set into alcoves in the wall, my focus always shifting until we reached here.

I was as nervous as a lad visiting his first brothel, but there wasn’t enough coin in the world to pay for this privilege.

“She might not see you,” Selene said, shooting the three of us a long look. “And if she doesn’t want to, you won’t even get in the door.”

Selene was tall and willowy but slender as a reed, and yet I took her threat seriously. No daughter of the Raven walked out into the world without the tools to defend herself.

“If she doesn’t want us…” My enthusiastic response died on my lips, remembering then the way Jessalyn had looked when she woke in the healer’s house on the packlands. Her crumpled dress, the dried blood on her scalp. I swallowed hard, shifting restlessly. “Then we won’t press her.”

“No, you won’t.”

At that, Selene knocked on the door. My heart started to race as I heard a rustle from behind it, then the sound of the lock being turned.

“Yes?” Her voice was like the sweetest of music. “Selene? Is something wrong? Has something happened at the palace? Your brother has sent word? Arik, Roan…? Gods, something has happened to Creed, hasn’t it?”

“Perhaps you need to ask them yourself.”

The door swung open to reveal a golden light. Thrown by the lamps hanging on the wall, their glow seemed to intensify as the light hit her. Jessalyn stood there on the threshold of her room, eyes wide and staring as she took the three of us in. I liked to think she inspected us closely for signs of harm, but when that was done, her eyes found mine.

“Lass…”

I had so much to say, so very much, but every word died in my throat as I stared.

“You…” She seemed just as dumbstruck as I was, which had me smiling like a loon. I needed that, to see my weakness find its twin in hers. Misery loves company and all that. A princess is never caught off guard for long, and to my dismay, she straightened up, smoothing her hands down her nightdress as if it was the finest of gowns. For me it was, the thin cotton swirling around her in loose folds, hinting at her form rather than outlining it. She shook her head and then jerked her chin up. “You had better come in.”

Chapter 88

Where the hell were they?

I watched the knife Silas had given me fly through the air in a perfect arc, the point slamming down into the old chopping board the temple cook had given me. I’d hung it from the back of the door to stop myself from damaging it each time I threw the knife. And why was I doing such a thing?

Several days had passed since I heard from the four men who claimed me as their mate, longer for Creed. I gripped the knife handle tightly and then wrenched it free with a frown before stalking back to a spot closer to my bed. Where the hell were they?

In the absence of someone to ask, my mind decided it had the answer. Arik, Roan, and Silas were taken by the king, their stupid plot discovered. Gods, maybe they were just thrown in a cell as a possible threat to the king’s plans. Perhaps Creed was dead in a ditch somewhere. Mother always talked about people being dead in ditches. Or what if he’d been shot by a hunter while in his wolf form. My hand wrapped so tightly around the knife I could feel the cool metal and smooth wood’s grain. I shook my head, squared my stance, and tried to remember everything Silas had told me.

His lips moved, saying the words, but I wasn’t hearing them, just the sound of my own heart beating as I traced the shape of his mouth in my mind’s eye. That full bottom lip, the way his mouth twisted into any number of sardonic smiles, then that last one. When his eyes lit up from a curious light, his grin unpractised and real. I couldn’t remember what I’d done to earn that, but I remembered the way it looked. Teeth flashing, followed by a low chuckle, I was caught in the moment, whole body quivering as I held that knife, just in time to watch that smile be obliterated entirely.

The executioner’s axe, poison, an arrow between the shoulder blades, a sword in his side, his horse stumbling and then throwing him over its head, catching him by surprise before he landed in an ugly pile, the sound of his neck breaking forcing me to blink. My cell at the temple came back to me abruptly, and I looked around at the reassuringly bland space, still able to see shadows on the wall. Of Roan dying as waves of the king’s men were directed against him. Of Arik being led to the scaffold. Of Creed being shot down by a long bowmen, his wolfish form fading to reveal the soft-eyed man I’d come to know. My chest heaved and heaved until finally I threw the knife. All that emotion seemed to fly with it, through the air, sent away from me by my blade until the point buried itself into the chopping board.

Well, it should’ve.

My aim was true, my whole body feeling like it went behind that throw, but something had queered my attempt. Perhaps the god-awful weight of everything I was feeling. I was sucking air into lungs that wouldn’t inflate correctly, my whole body working as I crossed the floor, my failure some kind of sign, my heart was sure. If I could throw the knife properly, the four of them were safe. We were safe and would get out of this ridiculous situation alive. If I could show Silas that I had learned how to use the knife—

A sharp knock at the door had my eyes jerking up as I went to pick up the knife blindly. Doing anything without your eyes wide open and your entire focus on the job was stupid, and I paid a price. My fingers wrapped around the hilt and the guard, a bright flare of pain letting me know I’d cut myself. I wish I could say it was for the first time.

“Ouch!” I hissed, pushing the knife back into its thigh sheath before inspecting this injury. Just a thin line of red, I watched the blood well for a second before shoving the wound in my mouth that filled rapidly with that distinctive coppery taste, forcing me to blink as the tiny pain seemed to grow exponentially.

I sucked in a shuddering breath as I was overwhelmed. I wouldn’t cry over a small scratch, I wouldn’t, not when there were so many other pains looming on the horizon. Giselle had been enraptured by the idea of watching my head get cut off, and that had changed something in me. I’d watched executions happen plenty of times before. I was forced to stand by my father’s side and watch the first of them when I was barely seven years old. Nothing that I had seen, however, prepared me for the ruffling of air I felt on my nape all the time, sure that now, now was the time the axe was about to fall.

“Yes?” I opened the door a crack and for a moment, those green eyes, that dark hair, made my heart leap in ways it shouldn’t. I’d taken a step forward, ready to rush into his arms when I saw the much more feminine curve of her cheek. “Selene? Is something wrong? Has something happened at the palace? Your brother has sent word? Arik, Roan…? Gods, something has happened to Creed, hasn’t it?”

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