The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 24 - Part 1

**A/N: I had to split this one into two again, so my apologies that Part 2 will be so much shorter! On the bright side...it'll be posted today too :) As always, please give a vote and a comment if you enjoyed it!**

The "safe place" that Frederico had mentioned turned out to be a tavern swathed in the branching tree sigil of the Carvalho family, in a village buried in the depths of a gnarled old forest. When we'd ridden deeper and deeper, I'd begun to wonder about where the crown prince was taking me, especially if my knowledge of Ardalonian geography proved correct. The only ancient forests in the country were towards their northeastern borders with Vareinne, in the domain of the Duque Delbosque. I'd assumed we'd be headed south, towards the next largest port city, Vallona, where the prince would likely have allies among the nobility. Vallona, after all, was the seat of the Duque Delmar, one of the late king's closest allies.

Instead, we'd ridden into the Carvalho lands, which was surprising only because the Duque Delbosque was not nearly as powerful or rich as the Duque Delmar. But then again, the familiar way the barkeep waved Rafael up the tavern stairs to the room above had me guessing that the second eldest Carvalho son might just be Frederico's second-in-command.

Or third, I corrected myself, since the prince seemed the type to name his murderous sister as his second.

A pair of burly men in dark cloaks moved from their spot at the bar to flank the front door when we reached the stairs, others strategically placed around the relatively empty tavern. I couldn't help but wonder whether said emptiness was thanks to the early hour or the cloaked men. Either way, it was clearly a far safer place to stop and rest than our makeshift campsite from the night before.

"You should eat something and wash up," Rafael said, barely slowing as we climbed the stairs. "I'm sure Frederico will have you attended to once we reach..."

He trailed off, glancing back over his shoulder at me before clearing his throat.

"Once we reach where?" I demanded, my temper still simmering over Frederico's idiotic battlefield commands.

"I should let His Highness tell you that," Rafael said, pushing open a door and gesturing me through. "I'll have them send up food. The washbasin should be clean."

I said nothing, surveying my surroundings as I listened for Rafael's departure. When the door closed behind him, I hurried over to it, pressing my good ear against the wood in an effort to deduce where the prince and princess were.

I needn't have bothered.

Ardal voices carried through the thin walls, from the room one door to the right. I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but I recognized the even, measured tempo of Frederico's voice and the sharp, annoyed clip of his sister's, the pair of them replying to Rafael's baritone. Deciding that I needed to sort out my thoughts before I unleashed my temper on the crown prince, I set to attending my injuries.

Turning my attention to the cracked mirror and decidedly pristine washbasin, I re-examined my throbbing ear. Sure enough, a chunk of flesh had been sliced from the tip, leaving a crusty, clotted notch where there had once been a rather elegant curve. It seared in protest when I dared to touch a cloth to it, wiping away the battlefield dirt. As I cleaned it, it began to look even worse, torn in such a way that the edges would never line up properly, even if a healer attempted to sew it closed.

Mother and Anne would be horrified, I thought with a snort. Though an injured ear was a small price to pay for having survived my first battlefield.

I was hissing with pain, scrubbing the last of the dirt from my wound, when a barmaid appeared, all but dropping the tray of food on the wobbling wooden table before disappearing again, like a mouse darting back into its hole. The smell tore me away from the bloodied washbasin, stifling my curses with the plate of eggs, toast, and sausages.