Prince of Traitors

Owin

I find Edin sitting by herself outside a tent, swiping a whetstone along her knife. I whistle, two short blasts our tribe uses for hunting, and she raises her head. My silver hair flashes in the torchlight, and she stands to leave the circle of torches.

"Owin?" she whispers when we are in the shadow beyond the light of the camps.

"Edin. They recruited you?"

She sighs. "They threatened to take Derec, so I volunteered."

"Shit," I mutter. "And Nerys?"

"She's fine; they're both safe," Edin says.

I nod, feeling relieved. Edin's wife Nerys had Derec from her first husband who had died in battle. Edin had adopted the boy as her own, and both she and Nerys are fiercely protective of him. He's only Saer's age; too young to see battle.

"Owin, what are you doing here?" Edin asks. "Kieran was looking for you."

I look up at her. "What? That's impossible."

Edin shakes her head. "I saw him with my own eyes," she says. "He's not here, but he's nearby. He said he came down the mountain to find you."

"Shit," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

Edin glances over her shoulder as someone shouts for her. "You should go," she says. "I hope you find him."

I nod wordlessly and step away from her, back into the shadows. I stay in the cover of darkness as I circle the camp, heading back the way I came. I keep my cloak wrapped around me, my hood up to hide my hair. I duck around a tent just as a few soldiers exit. I crouch down, and fortunately none of them notice me. I wait for them to pass and keep moving.

I return back to the spot where Jasper and I split up, just inside the line of trees. I see him approaching me when a hooded figure darts out from the woods behind him. A knife flashes, and the hooded figure presses the blade to Jasper's throat.

I draw my knife on instinct and raise it. Jasper raises his hands in surrender. I can't see his attacker's face under their hood.

"Let him go," I growl. "Now."

The attacker freezes, the knife still at Jasper's throat. The prince takes the opportunity to thrust his elbow into the hooded figure's gut. The attacker gives a grunt and doubles over, dropping his knife. Jasper whirls around and slams his elbow onto the back of the hooded figure's neck.

The figure falls. Jasper scoops up the fallen blade and extends his hand behind him to hand the knife to me. I take it from him as he begins to roll the assailant onto his back.

I peer at the knife in my hands. Its blade glints in the distant torchlight, and on its wooden hilt is carved a small feather, the grooves deep. My breath catches in my throat.

*

Kieran and I sit in the shade of a gnarled tree. He lounges at its base, hunched over as he works. He has my knife in his lap, carving into its hilt.

I pause my hands on his knife that I hold in my lap. I sit on a thick branch above him. One leg dangles down, idly swinging. My feet are bare in the summer heat, my hair swept up off my neck.

Kieran is intent in his carving and doesn't look up, even when I tap the top of his head with my foot.

"Hey," he growls. "Don't mess me up."

"Aren't you finished yet?" I ask.

"Be patient," he says.

I roll my eyes at him and keep working on his dagger. I carve a feather into its hilt with a smaller blade, adding a thin line through its center to finish it off. I smile, examining my work.

Kieran sits upright. He swipes away the wood shavings with his thumb.

I hop down from the tree, my bare feet landing in the soft grass. Kieran grasps my hand and pulls me down to sit next to him. Grinning, I present his dagger.

Kieran barks a laugh. "How appropriate," he says. He smiles at the feather I've carved in the grip of his knife. "I love it. Thank you." He leans over and kisses my temple.

He smiles softly as he hands me my knife. On its grip, he's carved a crescent moon.

"It's not quite right," he says. The curve of the crescent is a little wobbly, but I don't care.

I lean up and press my lips to his, resting one hand on the side of his neck. "It's perfect," I whisper. I feel him smile against my mouth.

*

"Wait," I say. The prince glances at me over his shoulder, his dagger poised over Kieran's prone form. I kneel down and pull the hood from Kieran's head, revealing his silver hair. It's long, down a little bit past his shoulders, and braided back at the sides. His defined jaw is dusted with silver stubble. "Jasper," I say with a sigh. "Meet Kieran."