Page 33 of The Uncrowned Prince

For the moment, he seemed to be gaining his bearings, and even drunk, he appeared to know the city. He took off down an alleyway, scuttling through its narrow confines until it joined up with a broader street on the other end.

Karreya followed, making use of the rooftops to keep him within sight without alerting him to her presence. And it served well enough, until the business district began to thin, leading to darker streets where houses were more plentiful and rooftops no longer connected.

A wider leap than she normally attempted dropped her into a quick roll across the flat roof of a boarding house. Once she gained her feet, she glanced down at her quarry where he was moving along at a swift walk, stumbling only occasionally and muttering to himself.

She would need to follow at street level from this point, and she was just preparing to make the drop when a shadow darted from across the street, whipped out a thin silver blade, and sliced her quarry’s throat without a single whisper of warning.

He crumpled where he stood, blood spurting from the wound to cover the cobblestones in a dark, spreading stain, and Karreya served as a grim witness in the darkness while he breathed his last.

So he hadn’t been wrong about that part, at least. Someonehadwanted him dead, and Karreya nearly snarled in frustration as she surveyed the scene. He could tell her nothing now.

But perhaps his killer could…

The assassin had paused an instant too long—checking his work when any professional could have told him the man was quite irretrievably dead.

It gave Karreya time to drop soundlessly from the rooftop and appear from the shadows as if by magic—hood raised and dagger in hand.

“He was mine,” she said softly. “Your actions were discourteous, and you will now make reparation.”

As expected, her opponent offered no sign that her words meant anything to him. Instead, he bolted, disappearing into the night with commendable speed.

The man lying in a pool of his own blood had known something important about the Irian king’s assassination. Now he, too, had died by an assassin’s blade, and it did not require much calculation to reach the conclusion that the two were connected.

And given that his attacker was decidedly not imperial…

Whoever he was, he was now the only link they had to the mystery of the king’s death, and Karreya had darted into the shadows after him long before she had time to analyze her reasons for doing so.

His identity had nothing to do with her. Nor should she concern herself with which of the Abreian traitors wore the crown of the Irian Throne. But Trevelian’s death seemed to interest Niell on a personal level, and some part of her wanted him to have answers.

And as frustrating as it was to admit—even to herself—she also wanted to prove that she was not simply a helpless baggage, dependent on him to protect her from the dangers of an unfamiliar world.

Mistress Bethia would have been deeply ashamed of her motives, but as Karreya was not on a sanctioned mission… Perhaps there was no need to remain subject to the Enclave’s strictures. Indeed, as terrifying as it was to consider, after her clandestine escape, there was a chance they would not even accept her back.

And that, in the end, was likely why she gave chase. In the midst of frustration and uncertainty, this was something she knew she could do. The night, the hunt, the pitting of her skills against those of another… All of them joined together to return some of the confidence this strange world had stolen. The pursuit awakened her senses and filled her with purpose—even a surge of joy and satisfaction as she closed with her quarry and brought him tumbling to the ground with a perfectly timed leap.

The man went still beneath her as she yanked back his hood and stared into deep-set dark eyes. His hair was cut close to his scalp, and a livid scar bisected his chin. When she rested the edge of her dagger against his neck, the grim set of his mouth shifted to something akin to defiance.

“Was this a killing of conviction or compensation?” She doubted the question would be answered, but it seemed a reasonable place to start.

Sure enough, his teeth gritted as though by breaking them he could protect his secrets.

She would not do him the dishonor of asking who he worked for, with or without torture. But perhaps if she took him to Niell, he could gain answers some other way.

Using a looped cord from her belt pouch, she secured one of his wrists and attempted to snare the second, but she was not fast enough. The moment she freed his arm, his hand darted to his mouth, and she heard a quiet crunch.

And then it was too late. He swallowed once, coughed twice, then his body spasmed, and blood began to ooze from the corners of his mouth. Karreya grimaced and rose to her feet as his lips stretched into a ghastly, blood-soaked grin.

“You lose,” he rasped hoarsely, and then he died.

She lingered only long enough to confirm that there were no identifying marks on his clothing or his person, and to take one of the daggers from his belt. It appeared all too familiar—near twin to the ones she carried—and that made no sense. Unless someone was attempting to hide their own treachery behind a false imperial front…

But there was nothing else to be accomplished by standing over a dead man. Mere seconds after his heart stopped beating, she melted into the darkness again and began making her way back across the city towards Niell.

With nothing to show for her pursuit. Hopefully Niell had managed to extricate himself from the fight that had been brewing as she left, or this entire evening would live forever in her memory as a testament to her lack of sound judgment.

* * *

Thankfully, she encountered Niell as he was making his way home, looking only slightly the worse for his encounter at the tavern.

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