Prince of Traitors

Owin

My head is still fuzzy from the wine when I wake up. I keep my eyes closed, but stretch out atop my bed, savouring the warmth of my furs. My back cracks heartily. Outside, the smell of autumn decay and wood smoke tumbles through the mountain air, the nearby river flowing steadily.

I sigh and smile softly to myself, thinking of Jasper last night. His hands on me, the warmth of his mouth. He'd been warm and solid under my hands, the hard exertion of travel changing the shape of him, his hair growing long enough to be tied back. His body intoxicating.

He's hardly the man I met all those long months ago back in Highcaster, but his lopsided smile is the same, crinkling the corners of his eyes. I can picture it, even with my eyes closed.

I reach a hand across my bed, expecting to find the prince sleeping beside me, but my hand finds the mattress empty. I slowly open my eyes, blinking against the light streaming in through the window. Dizziness washes over me and I groan a little against the pounding in my head. I sit up and run a hand through my hair. I pull my furs up to shield my bare chest from the cool morning air.

I smile down at the ring on my pointer finger. My satchel sits at the foot of the small wooden crate beside my bed where I tossed it when we arrived home days ago. I go to reach for it, meaning to find my roll of herbs and potions for a painkiller, but something glints and catches my attention.

Sitting atop the crate are a folded piece of parchment and the chain holding the ring that Jasper had around his neck the night before. I pick up the necklace. The Tajan quartz ring clinks on the chain as I hold it in my hands, the chain pooling into my lap. Absently I wonder why it's here with me—Jasper usually keeps the necklace on him, doesn't he?—but maybe he's gone out hunting or something and didn't want it to break. Maybe he took it off in the night.

I reach forward and pick up the parchment. It's just one sheet, the paper thick and slightly yellowed. I recognize Jasper's messy, scrawling handwriting, my name on the front. I rub my eyes again, clearing some of the waking bleariness from my vision, and open the folded parchment:

Owin,

I'd have liked to say a proper goodbye, but I know you'd have tied me to a tree or something if I'd tried it. I hope you will forgive me.

I want you to take both rings and buy passage for as many Navaarim as you can. Find a place all the tribes can call their own, a place your goddesses would be proud of. I know it's out there somewhere.

But no matter what you do or where you end up, please promise me you'll be happy. Love your parents. Marry Kieran. Take care of your sisters. And—tell Nimia I'm sorry too.

You have meant everything to me, my love. I will miss you, but I will never forget you for as long as I live. You deserve the world—go and see it.

You've stolen my heart. Keep it safe for me. I love you. I'm sorry.

-Jasper

My vision blurs before I reach the last line, and I have to wipe away the tears that threaten to smear the words. My hands tremble, the paper wobbling.

Jasper is gone. He's gone, and not coming back. Last night I'd been dancing in his arms, wine-drunk while his sweet, dumb smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. Last night I'd kissed him, let him into my bed, finally let myself act upon the love I have for him, and now he's gone.

Gone, and the stupid ass had the nerve to write me a damn letter.

I scramble to my feet, a wave of dizziness making me stumble. I hastily pull on a pair of breeches and a shirt and stomp out of my house, ready to find the prince and wring his neck myself.