Page 55 of The Uncrowned Prince

Karreya rose to her feet, glanced down into the chamber, and saw the looks exchanged by the Irian councilors. Could they not perceive what the enemy was after? Could they not sense the form of his plan, even in the midst of their panic?

“Our prince is young, yes.” The speaker’s back was straight and his expression stern as he faced the Garimoran ambassador. “But he will learn, and he will be guided by this council, as his father would have wished.”

“And that is as it should be,” the ambassador said, his tone easing to one of conciliation. “But His Majesty, King Melger, begs you to consider a brief postponement of Prince Torevan’s coronation. In this time of uncertainty, we require firm and experienced leadership. Let the council continue to guide your people until we have formed a lasting connection between our Thrones, so that we may present a united front against our common enemy.”

“Perhaps,” one of the other councilors suggested, his voice shaking, “we might consider extending the period of mourning. His Highness can be crowned at the end of it, and we will use that time to cement our alliances and prepare for the worst.”

The remainder of the council raised their voices angrily, either in support or dissent, and Karreya stopped listening. Her real concern was not whether Garimore and Iria would establish an alliance, or even whether the young Irian prince would be cheated out of his throne. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to be set free and keep his life in the bargain, which was more than many royal heirs could hope for.

No, her true worry knelt beside her on the floor. The collar was no longer draining him, but he should have removed it the moment they reached the gallery. She feared he’d already given it too much of himself. Although, he’d seemed well enough until he heard the ambassador’s words…

Something about those deaths had gutted him. Robbed him of speech and vitality, and left him an empty shell on the floor of the Queen’s Gallery.

“Niell.”

She shook him, but he did not respond. When she laid a hand on the side of his neck, his pulse beat firmly beneath her fingers, but he gave no sign that he could see her.

And suddenly, from the room below, she heard a command issued in a slightly annoyed voice.

“I have just noted that it appears one of the peepholes in the Queen’s Gallery is broken again. Cillian, please call for one of the guards to close it up before we proceed.”

“What?” That was the Garimoran ambassador’s voice. “This room has a gallery? And you have left it unguarded so that potential spies might overhear sensitive matters of state?”

“Lord Grendish”—the Irian voice sounded rather irritated—“in Iria, we do not worry overmuch that anyone cares to overhear our discussions about taxes and tariffs and drought in the north. The queen’s gallery has not been used in years, except to collect cobwebs, so I very much doubt anyone remembers its existence.”

The conversation might have amused Karreya, had it not required her to act swiftly and decisively. She’d promised to watch Niell’s back, but how in the name of the Five Gods were they to escape from the palace when he seemed too shocked to move? Even if she knew how, she dared not use the collar again, for fear that it would drain him further. They could not remain here, and once they left the shelter of this room…

Possible strategies presented themselves, only to be considered and discarded one by one. There would be no going out the same way they’d come in—waltzing brazenly through the middle of the reception. While Karreya might be able to go unnoticed, Niell, in his shabby black coat and worn boots, could not be mistaken for anything but an intruder. He was clearly neither a servant nor a guest, nor was he Irian, which meant he would fall under the deepest kind of suspicion if they were caught.

In the end, there would be no disguising what she was about to do. Nothing but pure brazenness and impossible luck was going to get them out unscathed.

And no matter how much she wished otherwise, she would likely be forced to cut her way through. Someone would die, and while taking the life of an enemy in self defense was not a matter of shame or distress, the idea of doing so now filled her with an odd sort of regret. Here, in this place… she did not want to kill.

In the Enclave, she knew herself for what she was—a weapon. Sharp and deadly, honed by discipline and purpose. Respected for her skills.

Here in Abreia, those same skills did not serve her present needs. She’d felt lost. Made mistakes. Been forced to rely on others.

Now she had a chance to regain her confidence. To pit herself and her training against the entire Irian Royal Guard.

So why should she feel regret?

Muttering curses under her breath, Karreya crouched beside Niell and stuffed the collar back into one of his pockets before grasping his arm and slinging it around her neck. But when she tried to pull him to his feet, he jerked and yanked his arm away.

“I can walk,” he said, even though his chin had sunk to his chest and he seemed to have difficulty shaping his words.

“No, you cannot,” Karreya returned grimly, “but I can help you. Lean on me, and we will walk out together.”

He obeyed—lurching to his feet and wrapping his arm across her shoulder in a parody of a friendly hug—but his feet did not move. “This is useless,” he said flatly. “I left the collar on too long. You should leave me here.” His words grew heavy with some deeply felt emotion. “Leave me, before I get you killed.”

“Shut up, Abreian,” she hissed, anger flaring at his suggestion. Leaving him behind was not an option, even though itshouldhave been. Should have been her first, unquestioned response—to save herself and leave this place with no one the wiser, going on about her search without concern.

So why wasn’t it? Her words to Niell about knowing himself echoed loudly in her own head, taunting her with the knowledge that she was no longer certain what she was willing to sacrifice.

“Listen carefully,” she said quietly, “and follow my lead. You are drunk, and I am assisting you in finding your way out. If they do not believe me, there may be fighting, and you must not become involved. Do you understand?”

“It’s you who does not understand.” Karreya might have taken offense, but his anger was entirely directed towards himself. “Even if I wanted to help, I could not. I lost control. The collar took nearly everything before you removed it. Which is why you should…”

She snarled wordlessly and lurched into motion, all but dragging him after her towards the stairs.

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