Prince of Traitors

Owin

Jasper helps me check my wound one more time before he lets me sleep. The black lines have faded completely from under my skin. The cut still aches a little, but the intense heat and pain have receded along with the poison.

I feel much more refreshed when I'm woken hours later by watery shafts of light streaming through the windows of the hunting cabin. I give a sigh from where I've wrapped myself up in my mountain of blankets.

"How long have we been in here?" I ask, my voice groggy.

"A few days," Jasper says. "I checked on the horses, they're still tied outside." He sits on the bench where he's made his bed in front of the fireplace, lacing up his boots.

I unwrap myself from my blankets and sit upright, stretching my arms above my head. I'm stiff from being confined to bed. My stomach growls loudly.

The prince digs a couple strips of dried venison out of his satchel. "You hungry?" he asks.

I nod and pull myself slowly to my feet. He hands the venison to me. I still wear the gigantic shirt, but the too-big drawstring pants have stayed off. My legs are bare save for the bandage wrapped around the cut on my thigh.

I slowly pace around the cabin as I eat. I have a slight limp, but my muscles loosen as I walk. I eat the venison strips quickly. "Mm. Didn't know how hungry I was."

"You're feeling better?" he asks. I nod, contently chewing the dried venison. "Think we should head out today?"

"Let me wash up first," I say, finishing the venison. "I feel disgusting." The prince gives a noncommittal hum of approval.

I grab my clothes from where they drape over a chair, dry and warmed by the fire. I enter the washroom and crank the water pump in the corner. The faucet sputters and water tumbles out into the tub. It's cold, but I lower my body into the tub and sigh as the water rushes over my skin.

I take the lump of soap that sits atop the edge of the tub and roll it around in my hands. It lathers and I run it over my torso. My nails catch on the scars across my back as I scrub the soap along my sides. I duck my head under the faucet, rubbing the soap into my hair.

I scrub the sweat from me and comb the tangles from my silver hair with my fingers. The water in the tub goes cloudy around me, my hair a heavy, wet curtain down my back.

I emerge from the washroom dressed in my breeches and shirt from a few days ago. Jasper packs up our satchels. I pull my hair over one shoulder and braid it. It drips water onto the floor.

"You're sure you're good?" he asks. "That antidote worked?"

I nod. "I'm fine, I promise. And... thanks."

He gives me a small, crooked smile. "You're welcome."

I grab my satchel and sling it over my shoulder. Jasper has already saddled the horses outside. He follows me out of the hunting cabin and we mount up. I direct us north, and we steer our horses into the trees.

*

"Tell me more about your sisters."

I look over at the prince as he rides next to me. My hips shift in the saddle as the horse shuffles along underneath me. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I want to get to know them so I can earn their trust and form a cult," he says simply. "Obviously."

I gape at him. He raises his eyebrows at me, but is quiet for a moment.

"Saints, I'm kidding!" he exclaims. "I-I'm trying to make conversation." I glower at him and refuse to respond. "It's what people do. To be friendly to each other?"

"We're not friends," I say with a sigh. "We're—business partners."

"I got that, thanks," he mutters under his breath.

I roll my eyes and face forward in my saddle, letting the prince wordlessly stew. I'm quiet for a long time before I sigh resignedly.

"I taught my sisters to shoot a bow and arrow one summer," I say. "They placed bets on who would learn the fastest—whoever lost would have to do the others' chores for a month. Saer was certain she'd win. She gloated all day, kept reciting a growing list of all the chores she was going to make the girls do." I shake my head, smiling at the memory.

"Who won?"

"Nimia," I answer. "She hit her target dead-on and beat out her sisters in about ten minutes."

Jasper snorts, and it surprises a small laugh from me. I turn to look at him, and his grin is wide and bright, the corners of his green eyes crinkling.

"How upset was Saer?" he asks.

"Very," I say with a laugh. I remember how Saer had gaped, astonished, at her little sister. Nim had worn the biggest shit-eating grin I'd ever seen.

The cover of trees begins to thin as we ride. Fallen leaves and branches turn to tall grass pressed flat under our horses' hooves.

Before us is a small cluster of buildings huddled along a web of dirt roads. Thin pillars of smoke rise from stone chimneys in the thatched roofs. The faint rise and fall of voices and the distant hammering of tools reach my ears.

I pull my horse to a stop on the knoll above the town, and Jasper halts his horse beside mine. I glance over at him; he watches the town before us, his hands tight around his horse's reins.