Princess of Thorns

How much easier would it be to leave without saying goodbye? Without having to see Niklaas’s face once he learns I’ve deceived him?

But we’ve made a deal, and Janin raised me never to give my word lightly. A broken promise breaks something inside of you, leaving less of you than there was before. Besides, I have a feeling Niklaas would hunt me down if I left without honoring my half of the bargain. He is insanely determined to meet my “sister.”

“Don’t tell me the Kanvasola prince can’t read,” Crimsin says, her attention focused on scratching out her message. “I’ve heard he’s a pretty, lazy thing, but really …”

“He can read,” I say. “But I made a promise. If I leave without him, I won’t be able to honor it.”

“But we’re women,” Crimsin says with a conspiratorial grin. “According to men, we have no honor. We can’t really be expected to keep all our promises.”

“I can’t do that,” I say, uncomfortable with her suggestion. “I honor my promises, and I hope you will honor yours. Can I trust you, Crimsin?”

Crimsin stands, the smile vanishing from her face. “Of course you can, Princess. I would never break a promise to a woman, especially you. And I respect that you have an honorable heart, but it really is best if we leave tonight. Who knows if the passage into the mountains will still be unguarded come tomorrow?”

She crosses back to her dog and crouches to slip her rolled note into his collar. “The queen hunts for you and your brother, and there are others who hunt for the Kanvasol prince. It’s dangerous for you to remain his traveling companion.”

“Who’s hunting Niklaas?”

“His father, of course,” Crimsin says. “The prince is about to turn eighteen, and that isn’t allowed in Kanvasola.”

“What do you mean? How do you forbid someone from having a birthday?”

I haven’t spent much time studying Kanvasol law—Janin assured me my hours were better spent studying the Herth customs—but surely not even a king who believes he’s eaten enough infant whales to become immortal can be that mad.

“Eighteen is the age it is legal for a son to inherit the Kanvasol throne.” Crimsin fetches the pitcher on the washbasin and sloshes water into the bowl meant for washing up before putting it on the floor for the dog. “And so, not one of King Eldorio’s sons has ever lived past his eighteenth birthday.”

“You mean …”

She nods and mimes shoving a knife into her own gut. Mine twists in response.

So that is the beast lurking in wait for Niklaas. Suddenly his fear of an early death, and his refusal to speak of what happened to his brothers, makes terrible sense.

“That is …” I shake my head, at a loss for words.

“Wicked?” Crimsin supplies.

“Unbelievably wicked,” I say, my heart breaking for Niklaas. What must it be like to grow up knowing your father intends to kill you before you become a man? To see your brothers slain, one by one, while every year you grow closer to sharing their fate?

“How does the king get away with it?” Loathing rises inside me, making me certain I could come to hate Niklaas’s father as much as I hate Ekeeta. “Surely his advisers and his people don’t—”

“His advisers are snakes, and his people are afraid, like we in Norvere are afraid,” she says, stroking Hund’s head as he laps water from the bowl. “But from what I hear, the king is careful not to make what he’s done too obvious. His sons’ bodies are never discovered, but everyone knows when a prince’s bed is found empty on the morning of his eighteenth year that it will never be slept in again.”

I imagine Niklaas, his throat cut in his sleep and his body dumped into some Kanvasol sea, and shiver. Silently I vow not to let him out of my sight until I can be sure he is safe from the monster who sired him.

“That’s all the more reason for him to stay with me,” I say. “I won’t leave him behind. We’ll have to wait until morning.”

Crimsin sighs and her dark eyes flash with irritation. “Please, think this through. The ogres won’t follow us into the hills, but King Eldorio’s men have no fear of the Feeding Trees. If they find out the prince has left Goreman in our company, they will follow us and punish my people for sheltering their fugitive.”

“But your camp is well hidden, isn’t it?”

“It is, but—”

“And none of the other guides would lead King Eldorio’s men to your location.”

“There are no other guides in Goreman. They left two days ago, when the ogres arrived. I’m the only one who’d rather risk a run-in with ogres than crawl back into the wretched mountains to hide,” she says with no small amount of pride.

She’s either brave or stupid, or a combination of both, which is probably the most dangerous, but unfortunately she’s also my last chance at securing a guide.

“Then we won’t have to worry about the king’s men being led to your settlement,” I say, “and surely you have defenses in place to protect your people if by some miracle Eldorio’s men find it on their own.”

Crimsin wrinkles her nose. “Yes, but the counselors won’t protect a Kanvasol prince. They’ll hand him over if it will send the king’s men away.”

“But he’s an i

“We were all i

“He means something to me.” I meet her hard look with one of my own.

She lifts one perfectly arched brow. “Well now … it’s like that, is it? I suppose you’ll be making us a batch of royal babies before too long, then?”

I roll my eyes as if the idea is absurd and hope my performance is enough to convince her. “He’s a friend and an ally, nothing more.”

“Right.” Crimsin’s lips curve. “That’s why you were mooning about outside his door.”

“I’m worried about him. That’s all.”

“Of course.” Crimsin nods in an exaggerated fashion.

“Truly, we’re just friends,” I say, though I’m starting to sound absurdly defensive. “He doesn’t even know I’m a girl.”

Crimsin wryly lifts a brow. “So he doesn’t know you’ve got a tender spot for him.”

I roll my eyes again but know better than to keep arguing. Anything I say will only make things worse. “Tender spot or no tender spot, I’m not leaving without him.” I pull off my boots and stretch out on the bed, hoping she’ll understand that’s the end of it. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight if you’d like.”

“You want to sleep?” she asks. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”

“We might as well. That way we’ll be ready to leave early in the morning.”

Crimsin sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “Very well, but I’m going down to the tavern. We won’t be leaving early. We’ll be lucky to get the prince up and about by noon. I put enough Vale Flower seeds in his last beer to put a stallion to sleep for a week.”

I bolt into a seated position. “You drugged him?”

Crimsin shrugs. “I paid the i

I drop my legs to the floor, hands shaking as I squirm my feet into my boots.

“Decided to come for a drink?” Crimsin asks.

“I’m going to check on Niklaas,” I say, barely concealing my anger. I need this girl, but right now I want to ball up my fist and punch her in her lying, drugging mouth.

“He’s fine.” She waves a breezy hand in the air. “He’ll sleep like the dead but—”

“Unless the seeds make him sick,” I say, a harsh note creeping into my voice. “If he gets sick while he’s unconscious, he could choke to death.”