The Queen's Blade (Book 1)

Chapter 5

Blade jerked awake, the events of the previous day returning with a rush of anxiety. A glance at the Prince assured him that his captive was still bound and asleep in a huddle at the base of the tree. The assassin washed in the stream, then kicked the Prince awake, saddled the horses and packed up the camp. Kerrion’s bloodshot eyes betrayed his sleepless night, and his chafed wrists testified to his struggles. Blade allowed him a drink of water and a call of nature, then thrust him towards his horse, making him stumble on stiff legs. Before Kerrion mounted, Blade produced a sack to put over the Prince’s head, and he jerked away.

“Is there no end to your sadistic inclinations? Did your queen order you to humiliate me as much and as often as possible?”

Blade shook his head. “You are a Cotti. If people see you, I doubt that I will be able to keep them from lynching you, or worse. You will wear the hood if you want to live, and keep your mouth shut.”

The assassin chuckled as he boosted his prisoner onto his horse, and Kerrion snarled a few choice insults in reply. The day passed peacefully with the Prince silenced, and Blade set a steady pace that ate up the miles.

That night, he again selected a grove in which to make camp, pulled the Prince from his horse and yanked the hood off with unnecessary force. Kerrion emerged angry and dishevelled, glancing around before unleashing his pent-up vitriol.

“If I am returned to my people, assassin, I shall see to it that you are hunted down and executed in the worst possible way.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Blade muttered.

“I have plenty of spies amongst your people, men loyal to my crown, who would gladly avenge my ill treatment at your hands.”

“I meant that I doubt you will ever be returned to your people.”

Kerrion watched the assassin set up camp. “The Cotti will not want my younger brother on the throne, and, even if he does not wish it, those loyal to me will do everything in their power to see that I am released.”

Blade broke a handful of twigs onto the tiny flames, then studied the Prince, his mouth set in a grim line. “You think my treatment of you is bad, yet you have no idea of your men’s cruelty.”

“If your queen fell into my soldiers’ hands, I am sure she would be treated with every courtesy.”

“And I am sure she would not.”

“What would you know of my men, anyway? At least I do not neuter them.”

Blade let the twigs fall into the fire and stood up. Drawing a dagger, he dragged the Prince to his feet and pushed his face close to the royal visage. Kerrion met his gaze unflinching, although his tension revealed his inner qualms at the intense hatred the assassin knew blazed in his eyes. Blade pressed the weapon to the Prince’s throat, drawing a drop of blood.

“If you do not learn to hold your flapping tongue, I will cut it out.”

 They glowered at each other, then Blade gave the Prince a push that sent him sprawling and turned away to continue making camp.

Queen Minna-Satu looked up from a report when Chiana entered. The chief advisor rose from her prostration and said, “The man I sent to find out about the assassin has returned, My Queen.”

Minna put aside the paper. “Bring him in.”

Chiana opened the doors to admit Mendal, who stalked closer before prostrating himself. When the Queen allowed him to rise, he shot Chiana a hard look.