Prince of Traitors

Kieran

Owin curses loudly as she picks up Jasper's sword. She clutches it in her white-knuckled hands as she slumps back against the wall.

"Bastard," Owin growls. "Lying, traitorous bastard."

Nimia steps closer to her. "Where could they have taken Jasper?" she asks, her voice wavering.

"I don't know," Owin says through gritted teeth. "But they can't have gone far." She tucks the sword into her belt, laying the flat of the blade against her hip under her fur cloak. She storms off toward the main thoroughfare. I grab Nimia's hand and pull her along beside me after Owin. I have to shove past people to keep up with her.

"Goddesses, Win," I begin. "What the hell have you gotten involved with?"

Owin frowns over her shoulder at me. "Don't start with me," she snaps.

I reach forward and grip her arm, pulling her to a stop. People mill around us, the streets somewhat crowded with Astrians. "You heard what Nimia said," I remind her. "Whoever he is, Jasper's trouble."

"We're helping him."

"He's not worth it."

Owin yanks away from me. "You don't get to decide that."

Rage flares in me. "What the hell happened to you?" I growl. "Why the hell would you want to protect him—an outsider?!"

Owin rolls her eyes at me. "Shut up about it, Kieran."

I scoff. "I'm beginning to think you value your prince over your own people," I spit.

"Owin—" Nimia begins, her voice small.

Owin glares daggers at me. "Don't you fucking dare," she growls. "You don't get to say that to me."

Nimia tugs on her sister's sleeve. "Owin—!"

"Not now, Nim," Owin snaps.

The younger girl's face scrunches up in anger. "Owin, look!" She points past us deliberately.

Owin follows her sister's gaze and curses, finding whoever she's looking for in the crowd. It's a tall man, with brown skin and a mess of black curls. His back is to us as he speaks to a shopkeeper. Owin begins to storm off, but Nimia catches her arm.

"Wait, there are guards," she says. I look over to the busy street and spot the uniformed soldiers that Nimia pointed out. They patrol the crowd, huge broadswords strapped to their belts.

"If you go barreling into a fight, it'll be trouble," I tell Owin.

She clenches her jaw, but tempers her rage enough to see reason. "Then we'll corner him," she says. "Wait till he's alone."

"But what about the lady?" Nim asks nervously. "She was scarier than him. What if she's here too?"

"Then we'll take care of her too."

"Owin," I snap. "A word?"

She peers at me, but gives a small nod. "Nim, watch him," she says. "Whistle if he moves from that spot."

Nimia nods.

Owin gives her sister a small pat on the shoulder and steps away with me to a side street in view of Nimia and the man she's watching.

"You can't do this," I say sharply.

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Sure I can. The bastard kidnapped Jasper."

I sigh. "Win, this has to stop. You cannot keep protecting the outsider."

"He's my friend, Kieran," she says.

"Just—" I grip her shoulders, make her look at me. "Win, the most important things in my life are you and Nimia. I can't stand by and let you barge into a battle you have no reason to fight."

Owin rolls her silver eyes. "If you won't help me, then stay out of my way."

I gape at her. "Help you? You're joking."

"I'm really not."

Glaring, I say, "I am not helping you murder a man to save the outsider."

"Not murder," she says. "Maim a little, maybe."

"Win. I know the outsider is your... friend, or whatever he is, but doing all of this for him? I don't understand it," I say.

"I'm not asking you to understand it, Kieran. I'm not even asking you to like it. I'm asking you to help me."

I sigh heavily. "And help you maim a man."

Owin shrugs. "I just need information from him," she says. "Are you going to let me do this, or not?"

I shake my head. Owin looks up at me, her gaze steadfast. She isn't about to waver on this. After a moment, I groan. "I'm doing this for you, not for the outsider," I say.

Behind me, I hear the trill of a whistle, one I've heard Nimia use many times on hunts. She's signaling that the mysterious man has moved from his spot in the street.

Owin says nothing. She stalks around me, heading back to the crowded street where her little sister waits. As we begin following the man, I see something change in Owin. Her focus narrows on her target, her steps sure and silent as she stalks her prey.

I've seen her like this many times. It reminds me of a time we hunted a mountain cat one winter that had been picking off our livestock. We stalked the creature for two hours, and Owin had become like a mountain cat herself, deadly and terrifying. I remember her eyes as she sighted down the length of her arrow. They never faltered, never wavered. Finally the mountain cat fell, an arrow sunk deep between its eyes.

*

The man—Rahmi—meanders along the crowded street and slowly makes his way across the city. We follow him from a distance, trailing him through the crowd. He stops at several vendors along the way, making our progress excruciatingly slow.

Owin looks like she wants to throttle him with every passing minute, but keeps herself from it as the city guards watch us pass.

"He's got Jasper's satchel," Owin whispers to me. "Son of a bitch."

When Rahmi glances over his shoulder, I watch as he turns down a side street under a stone archway. Owin hurries after him, and Nimia grips my hand as we trail after her. She's fuming, her hand already on the hilt of her dagger.

We turn the corner and Owin catches up to the man in two long strides. She slams him against the wall. He's taller and bigger than her, but she's fast, and has the advantage of surprise. Her knife is at his throat instantly.

"Where is he?" she snarls.

Rahmi says nothing at first. His dark brows raise, a crooked grin dancing across his face. "Ah, Owin, darling," he says. "There you are."