Page 17 of The Uncrowned Prince

Vaniell’s smile widened. “Welcome to the crew,” he said.

CHAPTER4

Karreya perched in the corner with her plate, balancing cross-legged atop a shelf that allowed her to watch Niell as she nibbled carefully at the food.

She told herself that she watched him because she wasn’t sure if he was entirely trustworthy. But the truth was, she watched him because she couldn’t help herself.

It was fascination, it was suspicion, and it was also… envy.

She envied the way he sprawled on his couch, limbs relaxed, head resting on the back as he ate. She envied his tousled hair, and the unfettered brilliance of his smile. His freedom to come and go as he pleased. She especially envied the careless ease with which he displayed his emotions. As if he had never been taught that they could be used as a formidable weapon against him.

The boy, on the other hand, ate almost furtively, with small motions, and rapid glances around the room, as if he expected the food to be taken from him at any moment.

As soon as Niell finished eating, he set aside his plate, laced his fingers behind his head, and crossed his legs at the ankles. A thinking pose.

“Well then,” he drawled. “As we have established that none of us here were responsible for the king’s death, perhaps we should have another look at that portrait of yours. I may find something of interest that would give us a clue.”

Karreya regarded him for a moment, looking for any hidden traps in his words.

“And then you will ask me your questions?”

“When you feel that I’ve aided you sufficiently that I am owed answers, yes.”

“And if I take your help and then disappear?” She couldn’t help asking. He was leaving himself open to risk, and he seemed more canny than that.

“Will you?” His eyes were bright, and his lips quirked with some unspoken amusement.

“No.” The question nettled her for some reason. As if he asked merely to prove something, when he already knew the answer. “But it would be a simple matter to take advantage of you, Abreian. You trust too easily.”

The boy—Boden—chuckled softly to himself, as if that thought were irresistibly humorous.

“Trust,” Niell noted thoughtfully, “is indeed a strange weapon. One that stabs as often as it defends. But I assure you, I do not wield it thoughtlessly.”

Karreya slid from her perch and produced the portrait once more, handing it to Niell with the pang that always accompanied the sight of her father’s face.

He had not loved her. Had not loved anyone that she knew of, other than perhaps himself, though in hindsight she suspected he might have hated himself most of all.

While she was still a young child, he’d abandoned her to the care of servants before disappearing altogether. She had never really missed him, but she needed him now. If she failed to find him and take him home, she would be ripped from the Enclave—the only real and purposeful life she’d ever known—and thrown into a world that pinched and pulled and bewildered beyond all reason.

Karreya knew she could never be what her grandmother wanted. Could never measure up to the old woman’s expectations. But if her father returned home, perhaps Karreya would no longer be considered essential. She could return to the safety and camaraderie and purpose of the Enclave and never need to fear her grandmother’s plans for her again.

“The medallion,” Niell said, tapping his lips thoughtfully with one finger. “Do you know what it’s for?”

She did. But she did not know if she should tell him.

“Because it looks”—he threw a meaningful glance in her direction—“like the work of an enchanter.”

Ah, so he already knew, in part.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “It is meant for protection.”

“I’ve seen one of those before,” Boden remarked casually, with exaggerated innocence shining from his wide brown eyes.

“You tried to steal one before, is what you mean,” Niell responded with a wink.

Boden shrugged and went back to his food, bending his head to hide a smirk.

“Who did you try to steal it from? Do you happen to remember?”

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