Page 14 of The Uncrowned Prince

Even before these devastating developments, he’d been finding it more and more difficult to dispel the bleak, hollow feeling of failure.

Had all his efforts been for nothing? All these years of trying to stay one step ahead, hoping to forestall this moment and prevent catastrophe…

A small, hunched shape on his doorstep alerted him that Boden had tracked him down at last.

“Been waiting long?” he asked mildly, as the boy jumped to his feet, almost twitching in his eagerness to make his report.

“‘Bout an hour.” The dark eyes that turned upwards to meet Vaniell’s were hopeful as well as speculative. “Haven’t eaten neither.”

Vaniell suppressed a smile. “Come in then. Provided your information is worth the cost of a meal?” He cocked an eyebrow at the boy and received a vigorous nod in return. Not that he would have refused to feed him in any case, but Boden preferred to earn what he was given and it was simple enough to make him feel as though he’d done an honest day’s work in exchange for food.

The moment Vaniell touched his front door, he knew something was amiss.

The threads of enchantment meant to alert him to any intruders had been plucked, leaving some of them broken.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered Boden, and the boy complied without complaint. Even at his young age, he was wise enough to know false bravado would only get him killed. Alas that so many adults seemed incapable of learning the same lesson.

Casting a quick glance at his magical traps, Vaniell quickly confirmed that they remained undisturbed. Whoever had entered had either stopped at the door, or… they’d known exactly where to step. But his acquaintances knew better than to attempt the labyrinth without guidance, as it changed every week or so, with no regular schedule.

Sorting swiftly through his pockets, Vaniell selected a handful of seemingly innocent marbles—steel rather than stone. Small, polished orbs that were easily enchanted with a spell for light and noise. Harmless, but effective for distraction.

When he reached the ragged curtain that separated his living area from the rest of the warehouse, he tossed one underneath.

The result was a deafening bang and a brilliant flash of light. His own eyes open the moment the light died, Vaniell ducked around the curtain to find…

Not a stunned and blinded intruder, but the sharp, cold edge of a blade resting at his throat and the unyielding pressure of an arm shoving him face-first into the wall. Heavens grant that Boden would have the sense to stay well hidden in the shadows.

“Shall I turn out my pockets?” Vaniell inquired of the lurking presence behind him. “Or do you have some other goal in mind than petty thievery?”

The blade never wavered, and the intruder spoke in harsh, clipped tones.

“Do you rescind your welcome, then?”

Vaniell had been about to unleash another—quite unpleasant—enchantment he’d prepared for precisely such a confrontation, but the familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Karreya?”

How the devil had she made it past all of his traps? And what business did he have feeling happy just because the perplexing woman had the nerve to break into his warehouse and make herself comfortable in his space?

The knife disappeared, so he turned slowly to face her, noticing small changes as he did so.

A rip in her cloak. A dagger missing from her belt. Pale blonde hair escaping its braids.

“I take it your efforts today bore rather different fruit than you were hoping?”

Her glare had the alarming effect of curving his lips into a grin. He really had no business smiling at someone who might very well be an enemy assassin. Though, for whatever reason, he still doubted that she had anything to do with the events of the night before.

“Perhaps,” he continued lightly, “you stabbed the wrong person, and he had a few too many irrational and squeamish friends?”

Yes, he was tempting fate. But in that dark moment, he needed to feel the rush of life and amusement that came with playing a game where no kingdoms were at stake. Only the joust of wit against wit.

And possibly a knife between his ribs, but he didn’t think she’d come here to kill him.

Though if a look could kill, he would be dead several times over.

“I am not a fool, Abreian,” Karreya returned icily. “And unlike you, I know when I am playing with fire.”

“But fire is bright and beautiful and unpredictable,” Vaniell said. “And it’s quite enjoyable to find out what makes it burn.” And then he winked.

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