Page 9 of The Uncrowned Prince

Pity the thing took so much energy to maintain, but for now it saved him the cost of lamp fuel.

When the light brightened, and a slight warmth began to emanate from the stone once more, he stood and turned back to his guest, bowing with a courtly flourish.

“Welcome, my lady, to my humble but comfortable home. I hope you will enjoy your sojourn here in Abreia.”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve been acquainted with one of your fellow countrymen for quite a long time.” True in fact, even if it wasn’t the answer to her question.

Her gaze sharpened, as if something in his answer piqued her interest. “What is his name?”

Well now, that was the question, wasn’t it.

“Perhaps before we start discussing the names of mutual acquaintances, it would be more proper to share our own,” the man in the black coat said. “My name is Niell. What’s yours?”

CHAPTER2

So much for her mentor’s assertion that her accent would be undetectable.

In truth, nothing about this foreign and chaotic land bore much resemblance to the stories she’d been told. Abreia had been described to her as little more than lawless wilderness—muddy streets and mercenaries on land, and pirates on the waves beyond.

But the discrepancies should not come as a surprise. After all, how many of those who lived out their days within the high walls of the Enclave had ever set foot on these shores? Most of their tales carried the nose-wrinkling taint of hearsay—a thing that was unverified, suspected to be untrue, but held close for the sake of comfort, with no desire to know more.

The man in front of her, by contrast, seemed composed largely of half-truths, which were less unpleasant. Nearly everything he said was true to a point, except for his name and his apology.

Those—and his offer of help—had been entirely genuine, and were the only reasons he was not yet dead.

“I am Karreya.” She never lied if she could help it. Lies tasted bitter and oily on her tongue, and became useless detritus of the mind—baggage to carry and remember and repeat. Besides, why hide behind untruth when she had nothing to be ashamed of? In most cases, it was far more effective to refuse to speak at all.

“Karreya.” Her name rolled off Niell’s tongue in a way that brought a flare of warmth to her chest. The smile that followed was almost shocking in its brilliance, and Karreya reflected that the head she was still considering removing was actually quite beautiful. Indeed, he might well be the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Granted, she had not met very many people. When she was young, there had been only the servants, but they were instructed never to look her in the eye. Later, she’d been taken away to the Enclave, and those she trained with had not been selected for their looks. She’d been taught to assess others for their potential to kill, not their ability to induce heart palpitations.

Though if she recalled correctly, Madame Inci had claimed there were numerous poisons that would have the same effect. In this case, however, she’d ingested nothing, so poison seemed an unlikely culprit for the strange fluttering beneath her ribs.

“I assumed at first that you’re a bounty hunter,” the man named Niell continued, moving about the room performing menial chores as he spoke. It was oddly comforting to watch as he removed a stack of blankets from the couch, fluffed the cushions, then bent down to pet a small, multi-colored cat when it brushed against his leg, demanding attention. The movement knocked a haphazard pile of books off a crate, which he collected from the floor before turning to look her dead in the eye. “But it seems your errand is of a more personal nature.”

She did not care for the speculation in his gray eyes. “Yes.”

One eyebrow quirked at her terse response. “Or perhaps it’s both?”

“Family business,” she replied coolly, beginning to feel annoyed by his scrutiny. “My father is needed at home, and I am here to see that he is made aware of that need.”

“Fair enough.” The man nodded and ran a quick hand through his wavy dark hair before dropping onto the couch in a graceful sprawl. “Well, as it happens, I meant what I said. I’m quite good at asking questions, and I might be able to aid in your search.”

An unspoken word echoed loudly between them, so Karreya chose to give it voice.

“You will aid me… if?”

Another smile tugged at his lips, but it had sharp edges and did not quite touch his eyes. “A trade,” he proposed. “I have friends here. I can circulate your portrait and find out whether your father has been seen recently. That way, you need not accidentally stab anyone in pursuit of answers.”

Accidentally?Karreya suppressed her instinctive denial and shot him an icy glance of derision instead. As if she had ever killed anyone out of mere spite. She had been trained in far too harsh a school to make mistakes through loss of control. When she stabbed someone, she meant it.

And why would he defend such a person as the wastrel in the tavern? “If you speak of the one who accosted me earlier, such men contribute nothing to the world except misery. Why should you care whether I stab them or not?”

“Not that I don’t sympathize with your initial impulse,” Niell answered wryly, “but I feel obliged to point out that in Abreia, you cannot stab someone simply for being a gutter-crawling cretin.”

When she arched a brow at him, he grinned crookedly and amended his statement.

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