Page 12 of Decoy

CHAPTER4

Dreams filled with shadows and masked men consumed my restless sleep until I finally awoke with the dawn, where I wasted no opportunity in sneaking out the window to the royal armory in hopes of discovering a way to enter it that the darkness might have hidden; after all, that assassin had found a way past the enchanted lock.

But no matter how long I studied it, the golden daylight didn’t illuminate any hints, keeping the room stubbornly inaccessible and me still weaponless. I heaved a frustrated sigh. Perhaps I should have humbled myself and accepted the dagger the assassin offered, even though doing so would have been to admit defeat.

Better to swallow your pride than to end up dead because you couldn’t adequately defend yourself against the unknown enemy. Especially when the anonymity that had been my greatest protection had been stripped away, leaving me entirely defenseless the next time we met.

I silently cursed myself for my pride, awareness of which had come too late considering I had mere hours before I was to meet the members of the court who’d been invited to greet the “new princess,” amongst whom was the mastermind to unmask. While I possessed some training, I was no expert in deduction, making the assignment seem impossible.

The task felt even more daunting considering I currently only had a single suspect, who seemed too obvious to be the culprit. The trying events of my past made me doubt I’d suddenly discovered enough elusive luck to encounter my target by chance in the middle of my first night and still emerge with my life.

Yet I couldn’t deny the man seemed suspicious, especially considering he hadn’t denied his role as an assassin, an accusation he’d worn like a badge of honor. It would bring me great satisfaction to lock him and his conceit within a dungeon cell.

I’d lingered outside the royal armory too long, already attracting the attention of some of the passing servants; the supposed princess being discovered in such a place would only invite unwanted suspicion. In order to protect my fragile mask, I reluctantly departed and waited in my room to begin my first day as the crown princess of Estoria.

Eventually, several maids arrived to help me get ready. My early life before my family’s fall of being raised in a noble household made me somewhat familiar with the embarrassing affair, but the experience proved much more unpleasant than when I’d been a child, especially after years of independence.

It felt amazing to bathe and wash away the grime from my imprisonment, though no amount of soap could scrub away the feel of the dungeon still clinging to my mind. The hot water and soap stung my wrists, but the pain only served as a reminder that I was alive, well worth the cost to be clean and feel human again.

I soaked long after the water grew cold before I was forced to endure their administrations. If I could survive several endless weeks languishing in a dungeon on death row, I could endure my body being scrubbed by foreign hands, my clothes draped around me as the maids dressed me like a doll, and my hair painfully tugged into an elegant chignon.

When they finished and the servants took their leave, the woman staring back at me from the mirror was a different one entirely; though she bore my face, she seemed to be nothing more than an imposter playing dress-up. I stared in shock before lifting a hesitant hand to meet my reflection’s fingertips against the glass. Itwasme, yet rather than myself, I seemed to be looking at a glimpse of my life should my past not have taken such a drastic turn.

I attempted to force away my vain imaginings, but the sight of me donned in silk and jewels invited the daydreams I’d once continuously entertained to grace my mind’s stage—they’d begun as the fantasies of a young noble girl eager to grow up to become like her elegant mother and had eventually become nothing more than pieces of fractured light I’d clung to after my entire world shattered around me, impossible to repair. Eventually, these snippets of broken daydreams had become too painful, forcing me to lock them away.

I’d thought time had smothered them, only for them to return with this single glimpse of the woman I might have been if fate hadn’t been so cruel. To think I’d finally get to live out a portion of my daydreams…though beneath the shadow of a death sentence, the bright glamour I’d once yearned for was tainted by the darkness of a murderer lying in wait whom I had no idea how to unmask.

I forced myself to turn away, but even without the sight of my reflection I couldn’t escape the weight of the jewelry across my neck and adorning my ears, nor the feel of silk against my skin with every flowing step. My fingertips caught hold of the fabric, and though I promised myself only one touch, I found myself rubbing the silk obsessively between my fingers. Even with each repeated touch it still didn’t feel entirely real.

I hastily yanked my hand away at the intrusive knock. The advisor strolled in without so much as a greeting, his sharp gaze already appraising me. Surprise widened his eyes. “You clean up remarkably well. One would never guess you’ve spent the past month in the dungeon.”

The very dungeon in which the royals I was now being forced to masquerade as had placed me, a cruel twist of irony. I tightened my jaw to keep back the biting attack burning my tongue, words I ached to use as a weapon considering I lacked any other. The absence of the familiar blade hidden along my thigh made me feel naked. No matter the layers of fabric and petticoats, nothing could cover up who I truly was: a woman fallen from grace.

The advisor’s careful perusal settled into a pensive frown. “Anyone can dress up, but beyond the proper wardrobe, you must embody the bearing of a royal. Your posture and movements were passable yesterday—undoubtedly the result of your own background—but you’ve acquired many bad habits over the years that are in need of correction.”

I hadn’t consciously been standing regally, but it seemed this brush with the elegant world I’d lost had brought back all the lessons from my childhood training, ones that remained incomplete due to having been cut so drastically short.

Sir Rupert had anticipated this and had an etiquette mistress brought in. My morning melted away beneath her tutelage, which she gave with enthusiasm and patience, seeming tickled to have the honor of helping the “true princess” enter her role with confidence. No one questioned who I was supposed to be, leaving me the only one in turmoil.

Her training lasted several hours before I was finally released from the tedium and allowed to take lunch in my room, hidden away from the court as I’d been during breakfast. When the dishes had been cleared away, Rupert returned. In the brief sojourn we were alone, he informed me of the cover story Their Majesties had decided upon: I’d been raised within the safety of the magical monastery bordering the kingdoms with a proper education, but for the sake of my protection I’d had no knowledge I was a princess until a royal entourage had arrived to bring me to the palace.

After making me repeat the story back to him several times to ensure I remembered it with exactness, Sir Rupert moved to escort me, pausing in the doorway when I held up my wounded wrists.

“The maids and etiquette tutor all noticed my injuries, and surely the court will too.” Just as the assassin had last night. He loomed over my thoughts before I succeeded in forcefully pushing him away.

I gave the advisor a look of challenge, but he remained entirely unfazed. “Such injuries will shatter the illusion you are who we claim. I’ll summon a healer at once.”

For all my fascination with the magic that had consumed my purpose for so many years, I’d never imagined it could be used to effortlessly erase all evidence of my time within the dungeon. My skin tingled with warmth as the healer gently brushed his hand over each wrist before the sensation faded, leaving my skin whole and healthy, without any sign of damage inflicted by my chains so that the only scars were those still marring my memory.

I twisted my wrist experimentally, but there was no lingering pain, as if my injuries hadn’t been inflicted at all. I should have found the healing wondrous, but it only escalated the anger constantly simmering beneath the surface. To think the royal family guarded such power so selfishly. The thought added further evidence to what I knew about Estoria’s magic, one it was my mission to expose if it was the last thing I ever did.

When the healer left, Rupert escorted me through the immaculate hallways, taking the time to impart his final instructions in a low murmur so as not to risk being overheard by the guards and servants we passed. “You will be presented by His Majesty as Princess Evelyn before being required to mingle with the court, which will give you your first opportunity to begin uncovering the threat against Her Highness’s life.”

“Won’t it arouse suspicion for the princess to spend more time with the court than with her long-lost parents?” I asked wryly.

“The court have been informed that you arrived yesterday and spent the entirety of last evening and this morning with them. They understand the duties required within the world of nobility and will not question your actions.”

I supposed I’d have to take his word for it.

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