Prince of Traitors

Jasper

"Jas!"

I turn in my saddle as Maks trots his horse up alongside mine on the main street heading back to the palace. We slow our horses to a walk, his bay mare nipping at my stallion's nose. He flattens his ears and jerks his head up, pulling at the reins in my hands. I lean forward in my saddle, helping my horse step up the slight incline of the bridge as we wind our way toward the palace.

Father sent a servant to fetch me after I'd dropped the plans off at the blacksmith's forge, but I take my time getting back. I enjoy riding through Highcaster, taking the longer routes back to the palace, going by horse instead of by carriage or litter. I love seeing the smiling faces of our subjects as they recognize their prince.

The Navaarim girl had not given me the same reception. Not that I'd expected the thief to be cordial to me, but she'd been positively savage. Her glare had been sharp enough to draw blood.

I remember her scream, piercing and ragged, from days ago in the throne room, when the tip of her right ear had been sliced off and she'd been sentenced to servitude. I push the thought away. She deserved the sentence; she'd stolen hundreds of crowns from Highcaster's citizens.

She'd had the nerve to call our country barbaric, but then bared her teeth at me like a wolf.

I shake off the memory as Maks reaches over and gives me a light punch in the arm. He's my best friend, the son of a noble in my father's court. We'd grown up together, me and him and Alix. I think of him as our third brother. He flashes a grin at me, his dark curls tousled by the wind and his eyes bright.

"What are you smiling about?" I ask with a chuckle at his expression.

"I just heard the strangest rumor about the Tajan ambassador bringing a pair of princesses for you and Alix," he says. "Your father still trying to marry you off like a maiden?" I roll my eyes at him.

"Of course he is," I say. "My dowry includes his kingdom." I puff out my chest. "Personally, I think any man would be lucky to have me."

Maks sniggers. "I plan on finding a nice girl down at the docks," he says.

I groan, but can't stop the smile that dances across my face. The docks, of course, are where the brothels make their home; sailors from Cronas and Taja make port in Highcaster and break in their land legs by visiting one of the many pleasure houses along the streets where the Marin River spills out into the sea.

Maks knows I wouldn't care to frequent the brothels even if I ever visited them. But he does, and greatly enjoys them, often sparing no details of his exploits there. He isn't the prince, so he can do as he likes.

He sighs dreamily. "I met this lovely Cronasi girl the other day," he croons. "She's amazing. Don't remember her name, but I don't think she minds."

"Tell me about these supposed Tajan princesses," I say, before he gets sidetracked.

He shrugs, planting a hand on one hip atop his saddle. He holds the reins loosely in his other hand as his mare shakes a fly off her head. "Haven't heard much. Just that they're young and beautiful and rich as Saints. Your father wants to strengthen his alliance with Taja. They have a bigger army than we do."

I frown, turning to Maks. "Things are that bad on the border?"

"Apparently. The Astrians are pushing back on the front. Rumor has it the Navaarim are getting involved," he says. I blink in surprise.

"What? How so?"

"Dunno," he says, and I sigh a little. "Just that they've been seen fighting on the lines. Bloody savages." He shakes his head in disdain.

The nomadic tribal people make their home in the jagged mountain ranges that run along the northern edges of both Astria and Odrend. The wild people's bright silver hair and eyes set them apart. It is said they can prowl the mountains like predators, unseen in the rock and alpine trees. I remember the Navaarim girl, showing her teeth in a growl. She reminded me of a wolf, the silver strands of her hair curling to frame her face, shiny with sweat from the heat of the forge.

The Navaarim are fierce warriors. But they have no real country to call their own, and so no real political power. They are small in number, but they have nothing to lose. If the tribes are allying themselves with Astria... it's no wonder my father wants to secure Odrend's alliance with Taja, the large desert country far to the southeast.

As Maks and I guide our horses up the hill and through the palace gates, Alix approaches with a frown on his face. His brow is creased, his lips pursed in a tight line. I swing down from my saddle.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Father needs us immediately," Alix says shortly. "There's an Astrian spy in the court."