The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 38 - Part 1

I spent the entirety of my afternoon searching for Beatriz. I rushed back to Genevieve's, where she assured me that neither Beatriz nor Rafael had returned since we'd left after breakfast. She'd tried to convince me to stay awhile and calm down with a cup of tea, but nothing could have pinned me in place. Not even her assurance that Frederico would be returning soon and would know what to do. The crown prince was the last person I wanted to see, with my nerves as frayed as they were, so I set out again.

I checked every healer's tent and staked out the apothecary, certain she'd turn up for medicines since the apothecary denied having seen her that day. When waiting proved fruitless, I debated sneaking past the Bazeran sentries to see if Beatriz was somewhere among the brightly coloured tents. But right as I approached, Shahnaz and Nisha sauntered past, deep in conversation.

Hatred bloomed in my chest at the sight of her, striding around unharmed. She hadn't even bandaged the nick in her arm from Beatriz' sword, so shallow was the wound. Instead, she wore it like a badge of honor as she grinned. My stomach turned as I thought of Beatriz, of her gauntlet shorn through by Nisha's sword, of her torn open thigh. Such pointless, idiotic violence over some stupid knife in the dirt. If I could have, I would have gone back in time and plucked the accursed blade from the ground, traditions be damned. I was more practical than prideful, and if I'd known what that blade would have brought about, I'd have had no trouble kneeling before Nisha to hand it back. Beatriz might not bow, but I would have – and gladly, too – if I could have prevented such a mess.

I chewed my cheek, debating the merits of accosting the pair of Bazerans and demanding to know where Beatriz had gone, but the risk of Nisha claiming her time early, or even chaining me to a tent pole until sundown, seemed far more likely than either of them helping me. I hastily snuck away before they spotted me, with futility simmering under my skin.

The afternoon sped past far too quickly. I frantically circled through the camp and the entire town to no avail, before giving up and turning to Frederico. I found him at the dining room table again, studying the map with Rafael's uncles.

"Where is she?" I demanded, storming into the room. The sun had already sunken too far. I had less than an hour before I was expected at Nisha's tent. Wherever that was.

Frederico surveyed me and I hated the way his calculating gaze read everything on my face. But I was too unnerved to do anything about it.

"She lost?" he asked.

"Why the bloody hell do you think I've been searching the entire camp for her? Yes, she lost. And now I'm some feral cat of a woman's prize."

"Is she hurt?" Frederico asked, his tone sharp.

"Again, why the bloody hell else do you think I'd be so agitated?"

"Is Rafael with her?"

"If I'd found her," I began, through my teeth, "Then perhaps I'd be able to tell you."

"We haven't seen him all day, your Highness," Josepe ventured. I glared at him, but Frederico simply nodded, his jaw set.

His nostrils flared as he stared down to the map. "You said you were the prize. Were you told sunrise or sundown?"

"Sundown," I snapped.

He pressed his lips into a line. When I realized he was attempting to stifle a grin, my hands curled into fists. Glancing up at me, he said, "Then you've been won until the sun rises. Fortunate, considering the days are longer than the nights this time of–"

"I don't care whether she wants me for a night or an afternoon or a bloody decade. As it seems I'm the only one worried enough to go searching for Beatriz, I won't be going anywhere until I find her!"