Prince of Traitors

Rahmi

Val doesn't speak to me the entire way back to the flat where we've been staying in Oxgarde. She doesn't even let me help with her wounds. She sits before a dirty mirror, stitching up her own chest.

I pace behind her, gnawing on my lips and cheeks. I want to say something to my sister, but no words pass my lips. Her rage radiates off of her.

Finally I muster the courage to speak. "Val—"

"You let the prince get away," she says. Her voice is cold. She eyes me in the mirror.

I feel myself shrinking under her gaze. "I know."

Val finishes stitching up her wound. She ties off the thread, stands, and eases her shirt off over her head. She says nothing as she wraps a long bandage around her wound, looping it under her arm and around her shoulder. The scars across her back move as her muscles flex. They cover her back in overlapping crisscrosses, the skin too smooth and pale.

My back is just as scarred as my sister's. No matter how much I try to forget where our scars come from, I am reminded of our past every time I look at Val's skin.

She pulls her shirt back on over her bandages and turns to look at me. Her hazel eyes are hard. I expect her to yell at me, but her voice is quiet and steady when she asks, "How in the hell could you let them go?" It's worse than screaming.

I sigh. "Val, I'm sorry," I say.

"Why," she snaps.

"They're my friends," I say.

My sister rolls her eyes. "So you keep saying. Tell me why."

I sigh and slump down onto one of the beds. "You know what people are saying—"

"And you suddenly believe all the conspirators?" Val crosses her arms over her chest.

I shrug. "I don't know. But I know Jasper." She opens her mouth to contradict me, but I continue. "I know him enough. And... Val, my gut says he's innocent. I think he's for real." I look my sister in the eye. "Remember our vow?"

She sighs. "Of course I do."

"Only the wicked," I say, and Val recites it with me. I give my sister a pleading look. "Trust me on this, Val. Please."

She uncrosses her arms, settling her hands on her hips. "I always trust you, little brother," she says. "But we were hired to do a job."

"I know."

Val comes and sits beside me on the bed. Our knees knock together and she presses her shoulder into mine. We're quiet for a long moment before I begin to speak again.

"Do you remember the thief from Direpass?" I ask. Val nods. "The nobleman that employed him was the one to hire us."

"I remember."

"He was stealing food and money from the nobleman to feed his family," I say. "Do you remember what we did when we caught him?"

Val snorts. "We helped him steal even more from the selfish bastard and sent him and his family on their way," she says. I laugh a little, smiling at the memory. The man had been terrified of us, of what the nobleman would do to him when we brought him in. I remember the tears that welled in his eyes when he realized we were helping him. We told the nobleman that hired us that the thief had run off, jumped off a bridge to avoid getting caught.

"Only the wicked," I repeat, my voice quiet. "It doesn't matter who hires us, no matter how much money is on the table. We don't bring in the innocent."

Val looks up at me. She breathes a heavy sigh, chews on the inside of her cheek. She loops her arm through mine and hugs the crook of my elbow. She leans over and rests her head on my shoulder, and I lower my head against hers. The ropy coils of her hair scratch my cheek.

"Only the wicked," my sister breathes.

*

In one of the market squares of Oxgarde, a messenger hands Val a small, folded letter. Though he's Astrian, he doesn't seem to notice the letter is sealed with wax bearing the Odrendi royal seal. My sister clutches the letter in her fist as we return back to our rented flat. We need some privacy to read the king's response.

Days ago, we sent him a message that said his brother was dead. According to our report, we had Jasper in our custody, were about to begin the journey back to Highcaster to deliver him to the palace, but bandits attacked us on the road late at night. Despite our skill, they outnumbered us. The bandits ambushed us, killed the Crown Prince. Regrettably, we were forced to retreat, or we'd have sent the Odrendi king his brother's head as proof.

I had been nervous and jumpy as Val composed our letter, but she's always been a better liar than me. Now my heart thunders in my chest, and I pray that Alixander believed us.

We lock the door behind us when we enter our flat, and Val pops off the wax seal with her nail. Her fingers are quick as she unfolds the letter and begins to read:

"'I was deeply disturbed to hear the news of your interception. I had hoped to receive good news from you, but even so, you two are the only bounty hunters that have even come close to capturing my brother.

"'It must have been very difficult to track him, considering he had the help of a Navaarim. But I commend your efforts, and am willing to grant you partial pay for your otherwise tremendous achievement. I am planning to visit my troops in Drymere on the northern border soon. I will be eager to speak with you in person there. Signed Alixander, King of Odrend.'" Val hands me the letter, letting me read over it myself.

I breathe a heavy sigh. "He believes Jasper is dead," I say.

Val nods. "Seems that way," she says. "And this whole thing wasn't a total loss, either. Partial payment isn't bad."

"Yeah," I say. I fold the letter back up and throw it into the fire that burns in the small hearth in the corner. It catches and burns, the parchment blackening, curling in on itself.

"Where do you think they headed off to?" my sister asks.

I glance over my shoulder at her. "I have to assume they're going to find Owin's tribe. Traveling this far north, with three Navaarim, Jasper's got to be heading into the mountains." I turn back to the fire and watch the flames dance.

Val nods. "Well, he soon won't be our problem anymore," she says. "We just have his brother to worry about."

"He'll have questions for us when we see him next, I'm sure," I say, my back to Val.

"And we'll answer them," she says. "Tell the king some more lies."