Prince of Traitors

Kieran

Owin and I stalk through the brush at the edge of the road leading west out of the Astrian city of Oxgarde. Nima holds her bow aloft as she hurries alongside us. The foliage is a blend of oranges and reds, but hides us well.

Owin spots the cart bearing the kidnapped prince as it leaves the city, slowly meandering westward in the middle of the night. It's draped with the Astrian royal seal, and Rahmi sits in the front holding the reins of the two horses that pull the cart. He's changed his clothes to plainer fare, likely dressed his wound under his shirt.

A second person ducks out from inside the cart and sits beside him in a plain dress. It's a woman, a scarf wrapped around her hair. She must be Rahmi's sister, this Val that Nimia told us about.

"That's them!" Nimia whispers. "Let's go get Jasper back—"

"You," Owin begins. "Are staying right here."

Nimia opens her mouth to retort, but her sister cuts her off.

"These people are dangerous, you're staying here," Owin says shortly. "Do not test me, Nim. Not tonight."

The younger girl sighs, blowing air through her lips. "Fine," she grumbles. She loops her bow over her shoulders and settles into the brush to wait. Owin sets Jasper's things down with her little sister.

As we draw closer to the cart, Owin holds her bow aloft. She holds several arrows in her bow hand, ready to nock and draw one right after the other with fluid movements.

I hate that we're doing this, that we're risking our necks to rescue Owin's prince. It feels foolish, but I'm not about to say that to the woman next to me.

After Rahmi stumbled away, hours and hours ago when Owin had interrogated him, she just stared at the Astrian coin he'd tossed to her. The small coin purse had dangled from a long chain, tied next to a pair of rings. Owin didn't tell me what was going through her mind as she stared at the coin, but after a few long moments she stalked off, declaring where we needed to be waiting for the ambush.

She crouches in the brush and raises her bow arm. The hand that draws back the string aims two arrows at the cart, tucked between her fingers as she nocks them. "Be ready," she breathes, and looses her bowstring.

One of the horses screams as Owin's arrows land deep in its flesh. It falls mid-stride, spooking the other horse pulling the cart. The second horse shies, scrambling to get away, but it falls, legs and hooves flailing. The cart tips over, landing with a crash.

Rahmi and the woman with him yell as the cart falls. I hear the loud snap of wood, and the spooked horse staggers to its feet and gallops off, its harness broken and the hitching in pieces.

Owin and I trade our bows and arrows for our daggers, and barrel toward the sideways cart. Adrenaline courses through my body, dulls the tiredness in my bones and the ache in my lungs.

The dark-skinned woman—Val—emerges brandishing a wicked dagger and a scowl. She's bleeding from a cut under her hairline, the long, dark coils swinging free from their scarf. She wears trousers underneath the skirts that she's torn away. She snarls and swings her dagger at Owin.

Win spins out of Val's reach. She bares her teeth and holds her knife aloft, ready to stab and slash.

I'm about to help Owin with her assailant, but Rahmi stumbles out from the cart and cuts me off. He slashes with his dagger, but I knock my knife against his, blocking his strike. I swing my dagger at him and he steps back, out of my reach. Every slash I make, Rahmi dodges, blocks. I yell, baring my teeth. "Fight back!" I snap at him.

His eyes are bright blue-green like gemstones, boring into mine under dark, furrowed brows. He says nothing, only continues to dodge my attacks. He's taking the defensive, not landing any hits on me.

I hear a shout and glance over to see Owin stagger back from Val. The silver-haired woman is bleeding from a cut on her cheek and a slash across her abdomen. At the sight, rage flares in me.

I whirl to slash at Val, but Owin beats me to it. She swings her arm, and her dagger slams into Val's chest. She snarls, the ropy coils of her hair flying. Owin stabs the other woman, above her heart. Val stumbles back as Owin yanks her knife free.

"Val!" Rahmi screams. He shoves me, his blade aimed at Owin's heart. His eyes are suddenly wild, wide with panic. I block his blade, coming between him and Owin and knocking his dagger away.

Val snarls, clutching the wound on her chest. Rahmi grasps her close to him, his dagger forgotten. "Keep the fucking prince," he growls. Val slumps into her brother, and they retreat, Rahmi holding her upright. They stagger into the woods beyond the fallen cart. Val limps.

I expect Owin to draw her bow, fire arrows at their backs, but she doesn't move. She breathes heavily as she stares after them, bleeding onto her shirt.

We hear a clatter from inside the cart, and Jasper emerges. He's mussed, an ugly bruise on his jaw, and moving stiffly as he stumbles from the cart. A rag drapes around his neck—a gag, wet from his spit, and his wrists are rubbed raw.

Owin sheaths her dagger with a great exhale, and she steps toward the prince. She breathes his name as they collide, their arms wrapping tight around one another, and something heavy settles in my chest, dragging my heart with it.