The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 25 - Part 1

**A/N: RECAP TIME (because it's been too long and I'm sorry!). Beatriz just killed a bunch of Dulciana's scouting soldiers while Rafael Carvalho whisked Frederico off to safety. Thomas got in Beatriz' way, like the clever thing he is, and managed to get a chunk of his ear sliced off in the chaos. Nevertheless, Beatriz still got the job done. BACK AT THE INN, where Frederico is safely hiding out, Thomas argues with him about his orders to leave no survivors on the battlefield. Frederico has no time for Thomas' objections and won't rise to Thomas baiting his temper. Beatriz fixes up Thomas' ear and sends him back to his room to await further orders from Frederico...

I'd been left mostly to myself after Beatriz had tended to my ear. When I'd attempted to descend into the tavern, where Frederico was now holding court with Rafael and a number of brawny men garbed in black, the crown prince silenced his conversation and ordered me upstairs to rest. I went so far as to pull out a seat for myself at a table, but Frederico simply kept his stony eyes on me, stubbornly refusing to talk until I finally relented and returned to my room.

Intent upon eavesdropping as best I could, I dragged the solitary chair closer to my door, leaning my ear against the wood in a fruitless attempt to glean any information from the meeting downstairs. All I caught were garbled snippets of incomprehensible Ardal, interrupted by footfalls going to and fro in the hallway.

When the barmaid arrived with my dinner tray, I very nearly tumbled into her lap, having dozed off leaning against the door. She squeaked in surprise, all but throwing the tray at me, a pile of clean, black clothes falling out from where she'd wedged them beneath her arm. She skittered off down the hallway, meek as a mouse. I called an apology after her in Ardal, careful not to spill the already slopped stew any further before gathering the clothes she'd brought for me.

The cloak I'd abandoned back on the battlefield, impaled with Beatriz's knife, had soaked up the brunt of the blood from my injury, but the collar and shoulder of my shirt were stained and crusted with the rest of it. I hadn't realized how filthy my trousers were until being presented with a fresh pair. I laid the clean clothes out on the bed, everything the same dark colour as what Rafael and his men wore. Deciding it would be better to sleep in something clean rather than my own dirt and blood-crusted clothing, I peeled my shirt off, careful not to disturb the bandage that Beatriz had wound around my head to protect my damaged ear.

The thought hit me like a punch to the face when I looked for somewhere to deposit my shirt.

Giles.

I hadn't even thought to warn Giles when I'd fled the palace.

I changed quickly, ignoring the dark cloak that still lay on the bed and Frederico's order to stay in my room. There could be only one reason we'd delayed here, where Dulciana's men could turn up at any moment. Granted Frederico had turned the inn into a makeshift fortress, guarded by burly Carvalho men, but risking discovery here would alert Dulciana to his plans. Plans I could only guess at, but that any sensible fleeing prince would want to keep secret from a regicidal sister.

He was waiting for news from Relizia. We'd ridden here as if this were some predetermined rendez-vous point, Rafael seeking us out on the road solely because of the scouting troops spotted in the area. Or perhaps because of the delay I'd caused them, unconscious sack of poisoned flesh that I'd been. Regardless, this was likely where Frederico and Beatriz had arranged to run should they ever need to flee the palace, a place where their allies knew to find them. If Frederico had any sense at all, he'd have ensured that someone would remain in Relizia to relay information back to him, to keep him connected to the palace's politics despite whatever reason he'd had to flee.

Whoever that someone was, I needed them to verify that my valet had survived the coup. If he hadn't...

Guilt twisted my stomach into a nauseating knot. Giles must have made it out. There was no reason for him to have been killed, I told myself, even though the logical part of my mind knew that was a lie.

Now that I'd disappeared, Giles and Ambassador Wells had suddenly turned into key players for Dulciana's ascent to power. Unlike the shifty ambassador, Giles could attest to the truth of what had happened, apprised as he was about my plans and my true relationship with Dulciana. He would be the voice of truth to cut down whatever lie Dulciana used to cover her guilt, whatever twisted fabrication she would use to rally the other continental kings to back her claim to the throne.

Giles needed to survive so Pretania would know the truth, especially since I now knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Ambassador Wells could not be counted upon to do the same.

In hindsight, I cursed myself for writing Lawrence Wells off as a useless, meddlesome pawn. The moment I'd witnessed him conversing with Callum Winters was the moment I should have ordered him aboard a ship bound for home, to sweep him out from underfoot. Now that Dulciana had staged her coup, it all made too much sense. So much so that I felt sick with disgust at having missed the hints before.

Callum Winters meeting with the Duque Delminas, the only duque at the dinner who was in possession of the antidote. Callum Winters hinting at secret meetings with Ambassador Wells, the man who was privy to conversations only Dulciana or Armando had overheard. Dulciana vanishing into the Duque Delminas' house the day before she murdered the king. The Duque Delminas' son pining over Ana-Cristina, Armando's promises to help him secure her as a bride when the king had promised her to the Delmar heir...

Dulciana. Armando. Winters. The Delminas men.

The vast web of Dulciana's allies now sparkled clearly, like a real spider's web when lit by sunlight and dewdrops. I'd been caught in the middle of it, oblivious, as I attempted to manipulate princesses and kings around a marriage treaty. A treaty whose importance seemed downright laughable now that Dulciana had staged her coup. All my efforts, all the alliances I'd forged, both false and true, all for naught.

She must have enjoyed watching me squirm in her web.

Cold, hard anger lit within me as I thought of her, of the plan she must have been concocting since it had become clear that Andrew was going to choose Libby. I didn't care that the pragmatic part of me could identify with her reasons, having been denied both her own throne and the foreign one her family had been promised. She had tried to kill me and had taken great pleasure when she'd thought she'd succeeded.

I wanted to destroy her. I would destroy her.

I tore open the door, surging into the hallway in a rush of fury. Rafael Carvalho pulled up short, hastily stuffing a rolled piece of parchment behind his back.

"Going somewhere, your Highness?" he asked, eyeing my fresh clothes. In return, I inspected the unfurled edge of what seemed to be a map, peeking out from behind Rafael's hip.

Calm down, I told myself, you won't learn anything if you barge in and they haul you back upstairs.

"I was hoping to compliment the cook for my dinner," I replied evenly, hoping Carvalho wouldn't notice my ragged breathing.

"I'll be sure to pass the compliment along," he said. I didn't need him to nod back towards my room to know that he would wait until I retired there.

Downstairs, shout of surprise went up as the inn door slammed shut. Rafael's urgent glance over my shoulder, towards the stairs, was enough to pique my curiosity. Why did they need a map? Who had just arrived to a chorus of surprised and relieved Ardal voices?

"Excellent, you have my thanks," I said, offering an empty semblance of a smile as I ducked back into my room. Rafael was too distracted by his haste to return downstairs to notice that I hadn't completely closed my door.

Once his heavy footfalls had disappeared and his voice had risen in greeting of whomever the new arrival was, I pushed the door open again. I padded carefully past Beatriz' room, away from the main staircase, towards where the mousy barmaid had run earlier, a narrow set of rickety stairs leading down into the bowels of the inn.

**A/N: PART 2 COMING IN A FEW HOURS!!! (Just had to throw that out there before I drown in demands of where the heck I disappeared to lol).

To everyone asking if I'm okay, yes, I am very okay :) The wedding went WONDERFULLY and unfortunately January and February were a whirlwind of work being crazy and settling in at home as a new wife with a new husband. I thank you all for your patience and all the incredibly kind well-wishes!! ❤️ Back to the writing cave I go, see you soon with Part 2!**