Prince of Traitors

Jasper

"This is Morsenas," I say as I urge my horse forward.

"We are not going in there," Owin snaps. She veers her horse in front of mine; he tosses his head, balking under me.

"Why not? We're a week from Highcaster," I say. "There won't be any guards in there."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's tiny and we're a week away from Highcaster," I hiss. "We go in just for a little bit, stock up on supplies, food."

"No."

"Yes. We'll be quick." I kick my horse forward and around hers. "Come on."

Owin sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. "Insufferable ass," she grumbles under her breath. I flip her my middle finger. A muscle flutters in her jaw as I pass her. "We don't even have money to buy anything," she growls.

"Speak for yourself." I dig the small pouch of coins out of my satchel that Maks sent with me. I toss it up and catch it with one hand, the coins inside jingling loudly.

"You get us in trouble with guards and I'll take those rings right from your damn neck," she grumbles.

I roll my eyes. "Course you will."

We dismount our horses and tie them to a lone tree next to an inn. We each pull on our cloaks. I tug my hood up to hide my blond hair as Owin adjusts her cloak around her body to hide her weapons. She unties her braid and runs her hands through her hair, tousling it so the silver curls obscure the missing tip of her right ear.

She is tense as we enter the town of Morsenas; I'm sure her hand is resting on the hilt of her dagger under her cloak.

The main road going through the town is a smaller branch of the much larger road that leads north from Highcaster. Morsenas is not very crowded; people meander around a couple carts pulled by mules along the road, doing their shopping and their chores while the sun is high.

No one looks our way as we enter the clusters of people milling along the street.

"Where to, then?" Owin asks shortly. I spot a sign that reads General Shop and cross the street to its door. Owin sticks close by me, following me into the shop.

The young woman tending the store is Tajan, her brown skin dark in the dim light. She pokes her head up from behind the heavy wooden counter. Her hair is covered with a silken scarf wrapped up and gathered atop her head, her pointed ears poking out from the scarf.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Hello! Welcome!" Her Tajan accent is thick, her hazel eyes bright against her dark skin. A thin silver ring pierces the septum of her nose.

I raise a hand and give a little wave in greeting. Owin curls her shoulders in toward her body. She crosses to a shelf and peruses the items. She picks up a small brick of something dark.

"Get this," she says quietly.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Just get it."

I sigh and take it from her. We grab a second water skein and little bundles of dried fruits that will last us a while.

"Anything else?" the Tajan woman asks as we bring our things to the counter. She skips to a bar nailed to the wall filled with clothing hangers and flutters her hand over a row of jewel-toned dresses. "Something pretty for your wife?"

Owin gapes at the woman, but I cover my surprise with a slight laugh. "No, thank you," I say. I smile and put my arm around Owin's ribcage. "Though you would look lovely in them, don't you think, my dear?"

She tenses under my hand, and I feel the hard curve of muscle along her back. Owin looks at me, her eyebrows shooting up. Her smile is tense. She looks like she's trying very hard not to punch me.

The Tajan woman giggles. "What a lovely couple you are. That will be sixty crowns for these," she says. I pay her from my coin purse, trying not to let my gaze linger on the carved profile of my father on the coins, and gather up our purchases, dropping them into my satchel. I keep my hand on the small of Owin's back as I hold the door open for her and exit the shop.

My companion has the good grace to quietly seethe until we turn a corner onto a small side street adjacent to the shop. She whirls to me and pummels my arm. I recoil from her with a yelp.

"Saints!"

"You did not have to play along," she hisses. I laugh and she punches my arm again.

"Ow!" I put my hands up in front of me. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I surrender." She glares at me, because I can't stop grinning. Her cheeks are ruddy, her face scrunched up as she scowls.

"I swear, if you ever—" Her admonishment cuts off abruptly, and the glare is erased from her face. She blinks. Her eyes go wide, her gaze flitting between me and something over my shoulder.

I turn and am about to ask her what's so interesting about the wall at my back when I see it: a piece of parchment nailed to the wall with a drawing of my face staring back, and the words printed below.

Wanted for Regicide and Treason. 900,000 crown reward.