Page 33 of Nightingale

Not sent back to Vasthold, her mother’s home as she’d thought they surely would have been.

Rian hesitated as she stared at them, as if he was reconsidering the option to hand them over. “I don’t give these back to you lightly. If I do, then there needs to be the understanding that I know you’re more than a pretty woman; but a weapon. One that could defend herself fairly wellwithoutthese blades, but I also wouldn’t leave you without protection on our travels. Like I said before, we’re going to be facing quite a bit of treacherous things and I’d rather my attention solely be focused on the enemies that we’ll be facing instead of worrying about you.”

“Where did you get them?”

“It’s a secret.” He flipped them around so that the handles faced her. “Promise me that one of these won’t end up in my back when I’m not looking.”

She silently nodded and he gave them to her.

Vrea tenderly spun them, savouring the hefty feel of the familiar metal in her grasp once more. She fingered the black leather handles and the simple argent hilts, the sable sheaths and the end that tipped in metal. She removed them one at a time, careful not to cut herself on the vicious steel that still gleamed in the sunlight, as if someone had polished them every day during her imprisonment.

Teminos had been the one who’d given the weapons to her, as a gift for being born into the fantastic family of warriors. One that she realised was meant to come across as sarcastic as time flew by and she’d come to understand his snipping tone better. But these knives were some of her most prized possessions and she was more than surprised to see them again.

Vrea had completely expected the King to throw them out, send them back to her family as a mocking taunt, or melt them down and turn them into something new. To rub her face in the fact that he could destroy everything that was precious to her.

“I’ve tossed one of Orla’s coats onto the bed for you, as well as a belt that should fit your slender waist so that you can keepthem on you at all times,” Rian instructed with a pointed finger towards his canopy rigging as the emerald curtains swayed in the autumn breeze. “It’s cold, and it’s only going to get colder so make sure to bundle up. If you need it, I’ve packed additional layers for both of us.” He motioned towards his bag. “But we can only carry so much. I’ve already asked the servants I trust most to provide rations for the road, as well as a handful of water skeins. They’ll have those prepared and waiting for us at the stables.”

Vrea could do nothing but listen as she took the coat from the bed and slipped her lean arms in, fastening the hooks together in the slanted opening until there wasn’t an ounce of her tunic visible from underneath. She tugged the belt off, noticing the cool green shade of it and remaining quiet as he went on.

“I know you can ride, since all royal members of any household are required to learn the skill, but I’ve hand-selected a mount that should be well suited for you. The saddles have been added with an additional layer of padding to help with chafing since we’re going to be riding for quite some time.” The Prince plucked his own azure jacket from a golden coat hook on the wall and adjusted it over his broad, muscled shoulders as he spoke.

“How are we getting past the guards and your father?” She questioned, fitting the thick belt over her high waist and moving it until the layers of fabric felt right, comfortable. “I highly doubt he’ll just let us walk out of here.”

“My father just so happens to be away for the week, busy with trying to figure out a way to kill more of your people,” Rian explained, a shadow of something not quite like regret falling over his face, but not far from it either. “So we’re going to walk out of here like that’s what we’ve been entrusted to do. It’s risky but if we saunter with purpose, then hopefully no one will question us.”

“Ballsy, but courageous. I’ll give you that. Since it’s obviousto anyone with eyes that you are your father’s choice for heir, I think they’ll find it reasonable that you’re the one chosen to escort me back home, if anyone were to do it.” Vrea picked up the first of her knives, angling it until she found the small metal hoop and securing it at her left side, thanks to the thin cord of green that was meant to hold a weapon in place. She repeated it on the other side. An immediate satisfaction and sense of security fell into place as soon as her weapons were back on her person.

Rian completed the buttons on his jacket, shuffling his shoulders as if he needed to test the limitations of the outerwear. “There’s always the chance of it failing, one that I hope we don’t come across.”

“And if we do?”

“Then we run like hell and pray that we make it.” He snorted, but she caught the seriousness in his medium resonance that he tried and failed to hide. “They’ll most likely chase us down and skin us alive if they catch us.”

“Good thing that I’m a fast runner, then.” She grinned and he returned it with a boyish one of his own that made her skin prickle in all the wrong ways.

Vrea tied a handful of stones to it and tossed it into the deep, dark ocean before it could transform into something else. Lust, desire, a heady want for the male was one thing, but anything past that was unacceptable. She was going to savour his death, enjoy it as her reason for being in this damned castle in the first place. A nice end to a chapter.

“Perfect. Keep up that cocksure attitude and I do not doubt that we’ll succeed in making it out of Hawksmoor without any incidents.” He dragged a hand through his auburn hair, messing it up from any style that he’d previously kept it in. “Are you ready to go?”

The female inhaled deeply, turning and taking a look at hersurroundings. They may not have been the exact same as the ones that she’d been kept in for three years, but it would do. One last scan around to shove everything into her memory and fuel her anger, her confidence of escape and the chances of this working before they left for good. She hoped to never return to Hawksmoor or Carylim, unless there was a good reason.

Killing the King seemed good enough of one.

But there was no chance of getting to a place alone enough with the sovereign for her to try to wipe him out.

Killing Castil also held a certain amount of appeal that she couldn’t deny, even if she tried. Which she didn’t. She wondered about him then, about the fourth Prince and if he’d try to visit her, only to find that she’d slipped her bonds. She wondered if he would be the one to mercilessly hunt her down like a quicksilver bloodhound on a scented trail, or if he’d be the one to alert the King of Carylim to her disappearance.

Vrea thought if anyone would, it would be him.

But she pushed the White Knight out of the furthest reaches of her mind and spun back around to face the last Prince.

“I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Rian smiled and threw his bag over his shoulder as he finished buckling his sword onto his hip. “Then let’s go, Princess.”

Seventeen

Just as Rian promised, mounts were readied and waiting for them outside the stable gates. There was a black mare that was most definitely meant for her by the size of the creature. The dappled Carylim Riekner next to it was his, with the harness that was fitted over the grey muzzle.

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