Only what choice did I have? There were three of them, a nearly dead Fowler, and only one of me.
I lowered my knife, deciding that aggression would get me nowhere. I would have to figure my way through this. I motioned to the ground like it was some fine table before us. “Have a seat. There’s not much, but I’ll share it.”
“Good lad.” The three soldiers sat near my fire and fell upon the hare. I waited, not demanding anything for myself. I doubted I could eat anyway. My stomach was suddenly tied up in knots. I was too tense, essentially alone and defenseless in the company of three strange men.
I fixed a neutral expression on my face. So much to hide, so much to guard against. Keeping all my secrets was exhausting. I was a female. Blind. The one true heir to the Relhok throne. And now I had Fowler’s secrets to keep, too. My temples pounded.
“Relax, boy. Here. Take this.” At Breslen’s offer, I held out my hand, smelling the bit of steaming meat being stretched out to me. Even though I wasn’t in the mood for food, I accepted it and forced myself to chew, clinging to my armor under the crawl of their gazes.
Never far from my memory was the last strange man we met. He tried to kill me for my head. These men could try to do that to me. Or worse. There were other things to fear.
I picked at the greasy meat, forcing down another bite. My lack of appetite didn’t escape their notice. “Eat. We’re not so inconsiderate that we would eat all your food,” Breslen encouraged. “Go on, boy.”
With a tentative nod, I forced another bite down my throat.
“Take some more.”
Grudgingly, I accepted, almost wishing the soldier wasn’t so generous. The meat was hot enough to singe my fingers, but I didn’t drop it. I brought the roasted hare to my teeth and nibbled, my stomach still too knotted to consume much more than that.
“What’s wrong with your friend there?” one of the deeper-voiced men asked. Kurk, I thought. He was bigger, too, constantly shifting his large girth in the small space, brushing against the rock wall. “Don’t tell me it’s your cooking?” He guffawed at his own joke.
“No,” I said softly, still holding my voice at a deep pitch.
“Dweller get him?” Breslen asked. For one so young, he was perceptive. I’d already gathered he was the leader of the three. Not the brawn, but the brains.
I nodded.
“Shame,” Kurk said around a mouthful of food. “Nothing to do for it. Great deal of suffering ahead for him. Kindest thing to do would be to stick a knife between his ribs and put him out of his misery. I’d be willing to oblige you if you haven’t the stomach for it.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, understanding what he was saying, but no less horrified. Even if he was right, if it was the merciful thing to do, I couldn’t do it. I could never do that. And right then I knew. No matter who he was or what he had done, I still deeply cared about Fowler. I still wanted him. Even if his father was evil and responsible for everything bad in my life. Even if I had no room in my existence for such tender feelings because I had a tyrant to kill and my country to save. It was weakness in me, to be certain, and I would not let it get the best of me. I would crush it beneath the pulse of obligation buzzing through me.
“Don’t touch him,” I growled.
“It’s what I’d want,” Jabon chimed in. “Sure it’s not what he wants?”
“Fowler’s a fighter,” I insisted, lowering my hands that held the stringy meat, debating picking my knife back up. Would I need to defend Fowler?
“Fight don’t matter.” Kurk snorted, his big body scraping over the ground again as he shifted.
“Fowler?” At the soft query, a ripple of unease traveled down my spine. It wasn’t such an uncommon name, but I regretted having said it aloud. It had just slipped out, but how could I know that it would strike a chord with this soldier . . . emissary. Whatever he was. Breslen was no friend to me. I supposed I should have known that the less said the better. “Is that his name, then?”
I fixed my expression into something that hopefully didn’t reveal panic. He couldn’t know Fowler. The names of kings and princes were notoriously popular.
“Is he from Relhok City, by chance?” He lifted up from where he sat, sliding his slight frame closer to where Fowler shivered through his fever.
“No,” I said. “We’ve never even been there.”
“Interesting. Your accent says otherwise.”
Of course I would sound like I was from there. I was raised and surrounded by two people who were born and bred there.
He did not respond to my lie, but I felt his stare.
“You lie,” he finally pronounced, that gentle voice flaying me like the cruelest whip.
I flinched.
“He’s been to Relhok City before.” He spoke quickly, clearly thrilled by his discovery. “In fact, that’s where he is from.”
The other two soldiers adjusted their weight, clothes rustling as they leaned forward as though they required a look at Fowler, too.
I tried for an air of bewilderment, shaking my head. Truthfully, bewilderment wasn’t far off. How could he know Fowler? “What do you mean?” Even if he’d ever glimpsed Fowler from afar, it had been years. In the time since, Fowler had been living a hard life on the Outside. He couldn’t resemble the well-fed, undoubtedly pampered aristocrat from years ago. No, this hard-edged Fowler couldn’t look the same at all.
“I know him. This is the prince of Relhok, the king of Relhok’s son and only heir.”
Jabon to my left made a whistling sound with his teeth while Kurk demanded, “What? I thought he was away on some diplomatic trip to Cydon.”
I absorbed that. Obviously this was the story Cullan had spread to explain his son’s absence. Never mind how unlikely it was that Cullan would permit his one son to go anywhere outside the safety of Relhok City’s walls. Whatever story Cullan put forth was taken as truth. No one opposed the bastard.
“Lies, apparently,” Breslen answered smoothly. “King Cullan wants no one to know that his one heir is missing. Interesting. What is he doing so far from home?”
I moistened my lips, my heart thumping so hard I was certain every single one of them heard it. Breslen leaned forward over Fowler. I held my breath, listening, braced and ready to spring should he touch Fowler.
“What are you doing here with him?” Kurk directed the question to me, and his tone was decidedly less friendly than earlier. Suspicion hugged every word.
I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about him being . . . royalty. You must be mistaken. He’s just someone I met out here . . .” I waved a hand, gesturing to the world that I couldn’t see but felt like a throbbing heartbeat in my chest.
That’s what I thought about Fowler in the beginning, at least. He was just someone exceptionally good with a bow. Someone who knew how to survive in darkness . . . as though this world belonged to him and he to it. That’s what I had thought. That’s what I wished were true now more than ever.
A slight rustling of fabric alerted me to the fact that Breslen was now touching Fowler. I jerked forward, the tiny hairs on my arms prickling. “Don’t touch him!”
“Easy, boy. Just checking his injuries. Assuming you want us to save him.”