“Sir!”
He let her go, but only after he’d buried his nose in her hair and taken a crude, dog-like sniff of her. “Strawberry-blonde curls, green eyes, and smelling of perfume. You’re every poor man’s fantasy of a rich girl.” He fingered the collar of her cloak. “So what do you say, girl, eh? Indulge a poor man with a few minutes of fantasy when we get back to your mistress?”
Tasia glanced from Mack to the Sunfall Gate, a series of quick calculations running through her mind.
She swung her basket of bread at the guard’s face, hitched up her cloak and the shift beneath it, and sprinted for the gate as fast as her feet would carry her.
Behind her, Mack cursed loudly and pursued her, the soles of his leather boots slapping the cobblestones, short sword jangling against the metal studs riveted into his leather tunic.
“Help!” Tasia shouted as she approached the gate. Mack was only steps behind her now. “Help! Tedric, Tomkin, Grizzle, hel — ”
But it was too late; he caught her. A fist wound itself into her hair, yanked her backward roughly, and she collided into his chest with a soft grunt.
“You ungrateful little whore!” Mack spat, wheeling her around to face him. “I’ll teach you some manners! No wonder the last man tried to kill — ”
The protesting whine of a door hinge interrupted him, and he dropped his hand as three guards emerged from the small side door beside the main Sunfall Gate. One of the guards held a sword in one hand, a lantern in the other.
“Princess?” he said. His unshaven face was as rough as Mack’s was, but where Mack’s stubble retained its color, the half-grown beard on the palace guard’s face was pure white. He glanced from Mack to Tasia.
Tasia straightened her cloak, shook loose the tangles in her hair.
“Grizzle,” Tasia said, mixing the name of the night shift’s captain with a deep a sigh of relief.
“Princess Natasia,” Grizzle said, dipping his chin respectfully. Tasia could smell the booze on his breath even from where she stood; she hoped he wasn’t drunk enough to be over-powered. “We expected you home much earlier. The lads and I were beginning to worry.” Grizzle turned in Mack’s direction, holding up his lantern and squinting at the other man. “But I see you found a member of the city guard to walk you home. That’s good — when we heard you shouting, we thought something was wrong.”
Mack’s eyes widened. With what Tasia could only assume was mounting horror, he looked from Grizzle, to Tasia, back to Grizzle again.
“Princess… Natasia…?” he mumbled to himself.
Tasia adjusted the ring on her finger, rotating it so that the royal crest of her family faced outward. The silver eagle inlaid in obsidian glittered in the lamp light.
She sighed heavily, because she knew what she must do, even if was distasteful to her. Revealing what had happened tonight to her father was no longer a choice to be deliberated over but something unavoidable.
Servant of the Empire before servant of my desire, she recited to herself. It was probably for the best. If there was someone who knew her movements well enough to attempt an assassination tonight, then her father needed to know.
“This man is no ordinary city guardsman,” she said to Grizzle.
Mack began to protest, panic filling his face, but Tasia silenced him with a single raised finger.
“This man — and his patrol mate — are heroes, because tonight…” She paused for effect, glancing at the face of each of the three guards. “They stopped an assassin who tried to take my life.”
Grizzle’s face registered shock. “My Princess! Are you alright? Should I wake one of the Wise Men?”
“No, no,” Tasia said immediately. The palace’s Wise Men would be involved in this debacle soon enough, but she could delay it for now. “I’m not hurt. Mack — that’s what you’re called, isn’t it?” she said, turning to the guard.
He hesitated, then nodded, shrinking back a step.
“Mack and his patrol mate saw to it that no harm came to me. I did scrape my chin when I fell, but that is the worst of my injuries.” Tasia took a breath. “I do, however, need you to rouse my father. Send someone ahead to wake him, and let him know that we will meet him in his offices.” She glanced sideways at Mack, whose mouth remained half open. “And arrange for another one of your men to escort us there.”
“Yes, Highness.”
3
Mack the city guardsman was silent as he trailed behind Tasia and Tedric, one of the younger Sunfall guards, to the Emperor’s private offices. Tasia gave Mack a subtle backward glance at one point, and could see clearly from his gawking at the lamplit silk tapestries hanging from the walls that he’d probably never seen the interior of anything finer than a city guard outpost in his entire life.
She hid a smile.
Mack had nearly assaulted the daughter of the Emperor, the Princess of the Four Realms. Tasia could have had him put to death with a few words if she’d wanted to, and surely he knew it. He had to be wondering if she still would. But she didn’t plan on doing that. Just as she’d learned that it was useful to have some allies at the Sunfall Gate, she might eventually find a use for a city guardsman who owed her a favor, too.
More than a favor. He owed her his life at this point. If Tasia were anyone else, saving her from the assassin would have made them even. But she wasn’t anyone else. She was the Princess. Stupid as Mack seemed to be, Tasia was sure he understood this.
The Emperor was already in his main office when Tasia entered with Mack and Tedric. Her father paced restlessly behind the heavy cedar desk in the center of the room, night clothes fluttering behind his massive frame like a cape. Even if he hadn’t carried the title “Emperor of the Four Realms,” Andreth the Just of House Dorsa would still be an intimidating man. Taller than all the other men in the room by at least a head, he had a broad chest, log-thick limbs, and a beard that made him look like a giant from a child’s tale. Above the beard was a large and crooked nose, with a scar across it that suggested violence. His skin was ruddy and pock-marked; his eyes were as black as his beard. The total effect was a man who looked more ogre than Emperor — cold, shrewd, and prepared to give an early grave to any man who crossed him.
He stopped pacing when his daughter entered, studying first her, then Tedric, then Mack .
Three other members of the palace guard were also in the room — the two men who always guarded the Emperor’s chambers at night, along with Cole of Easthook, the head of the palace guard and the Emperor’s long-time personal guard. Cole was seated in a plush chair to the side of the Emperor’s desk, rubbing his bad leg absentmindedly as he regarded Tasia with an appraising look.
Cole didn’t look like a man who’d been woken from sleep. As always, his face was fresh and alert.
The Emperor flicked his hand at the door, and all the guards, with the exception of Cole, bowed and exited quietly. Mack, still in a state of obvious shock, also bowed and began backpedaling.
“No, not you,” the Emperor said. “You stay. Sit.” He pointed at a divan upholstered in red velvet, trimmed with ornately carved golden wood, and draped with a large white doily.