Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) (15 page)

“I would be happy to help, but there is one problem,” James said, his tone serious, but underneath Mariel detected that he was laughing at a joke. “How are you going to get dressed alone? You can’t ask your maid to help, she’ll tell on you and then your sword will be confiscated.”

Now Mariel understood the joke. “You are evil.” But she wanted to learn. She knew that the difference between knowing how to fight and not knowing was worth her life. She inhaled deeply and let out her breath slowly, not believing what she was about to say. “You’ll have to help me. But,” she said, cutting off that devilish smile beginning to spread across James’s face, “You won’t see anything, since I’ll be wearing a
very
dark shift, which I can get into on my own.”

That aggravating smile did not fade from the serpentramel’s face.

“I’ve never helped a noblewoman into a corset before . . . only ever out of it.”

A shiver ran up Mariel’s spine at James’s implication. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Dressing is all you’ll ever help me do.”

She started running again, determined to leave behind her friend and his uncomfortable notions. James caught up quickly and kept her fast pace, but Mariel ignored him.

* * *

Little changed in Mariel’s daily routine. James ran with her and Iyela in the early morning and helped her learn to fight wearing a heavy dress. Her balance had improved since the time she had fought Darren because she had been wearing the dresses for weeks. However, she had to relearn nearly all of the familiar movements because the weight and positioning of the dress forced her to keep her body centered differently and she had to take smaller steps to keep from tripping over her skirts. The first time she dueled with James he dumped her on her rear in one move. However, he gave her tips from observations. By the end of their exercises it took him three moves to win. They were depressing statistics to the swordmaster Mariel, but still an improvement.

James bribed one of the convent’s stable hands with some stolen money and helped him find a job as a glassblower’s apprentice in the town. Then James convinced the stable-master to hire him on in the open job. His skill at slipping into positions without arousing suspicion made Mariel long for the days when she had done the same.

Despite James’s point that the way to leave the convent was on good behavior, Mariel could not give in. Her frustration and anger mounted to new heights after the arrival of the queen’s letter. She continued to fight the priestesses with renewed vigor: making her handwriting sloppier, yelling the words of songs until she was almost hoarse, and falling into the other girls while they danced, causing a pileup of skirts and bodies. At night, she would move decorations around, knock furniture over, or track flour through the temple. She refused to give in to the king and queen. She would never let them win, not after they had once left her for dead.

She fought with her maidservant Betti and yelled at her when she pulled the corset too tight one day. Mariel even snapped at the girls who were normally nice to her, or who wanted to be her friends, like Cara and Hallie. She pushed them away, unwilling to allow herself to like an aristocrat. Isabel preyed on Cara, but the meek girl had shadowed her new roommate since she had arrived and Mariel had never let the bully pick on anyone. Yet now, Mariel yelled at Cara to leave her alone. Most of the girls began to keep their distance.

Mariel knew she should not let her anger take control during sword practices. She needed to stay calm with a cool thinking mind to do well, but rage was too powerful. After she accidentally cut James’s arm, he refused to fight her again until she took control of herself. She stormed off to practice knife throwing on her own, but even her knives flew wide of the target. The following day she calmed enough to heal James’s wound with magic, but she could not bring herself to apologize.

By the end of June, she had managed to antagonize nearly everyone in the convent: priestesses, novices, students, and servants. Mariel expected James to decide helping her was not worth enduring her cruelty and temper, but he did not leave.

When she asked him why he stayed, he said, “Imagine all the trouble you’ll get in if I leave! And besides, don’t all princesses have loyal body guards to protect their frail forms?”

Mariel shoved James hard and stormed away, but she wondered if there was more to his words than just a joke. She remembered how he had reacted with terror when she had mentioned the assassination attempts. He had quizzed her about the blank hole in her memory, and had made doubly sure that she did not remember what had happened. Did James know something she did not?

The serpentramels held the de Sharec family in particularly fierce loathing since it was because of the royal family they were hunted with the goal of extermination. James was nine or ten at the time of Princess Carolina’s murder, and probably remembered the event, but could it be that his people were behind it? Had some serpentramels decided that the way to end the de Sharec rule once and for all was to kill anyone who possessed their blood? She had escaped though. Somehow she was still alive, so if that was the plan, it had failed.

The problem with Mariel’s theory about her assassins and her mother’s murderers being serpentramel was James’s reaction to learning she was the princess. He had said that it was the best way to end the corrupted monarchy without bloodshed. He wanted her to inherit the kingdom of Natric. But maybe other serpentramels would not see it that way. They might think possessing de Sharec blood would ultimately lead to a corrupted rule—Mariel herself was not sure it would not. Perhaps James stayed to protect her from the assassins, to protect her from his own people.

Or was he a spy? Mariel still had not decided if he was or not. She had no idea who he worked for; it could be another serpentramel or someone else entirely. Was James here to make sure she did not become corrupted by power? If she began to show signs of corruption, would he kill her? She did not know the answer to any of these questions, and although she was usually curious, she did not think she wanted to know.

The only other person at the convent who was not alienated by Mariel was Cara. She endured Mariel’s foul temper and sat beside her during lessons and meals. Before bed, Cara wished her unhappy roommate good night. Cara struggled in lessons, but Mariel observed that she was intelligent, but had no self-confidence, so performed poorly. Regardless, of her observations, Mariel continued to keep Cara at arm’s length.

On an exceptionally hot night at the end of June, Mariel rose and began preparing for her nightly prowl.

“Don’t go,” said a quiet voice from the other side of the room.

Mariel turned in surprise to see Cara sitting up in bed. Moonlight shone on her coppery hair from the open window.

“Go back to sleep,” Mariel growled.

Cara was silent for a moment, but then she spoke again, her voice uncertain. “You go out every night and make some sort of mess for the novices or the servants to clean up the next morning. And,” she paused, “you steal from the other girls.”

Mariel kicked herself for underestimating her roommate. “I’ve never stolen from you, and I don’t intend to, so go back to sleep.”

“But you even take your own jewels. Why am I the only one you don’t steal from?”

Mariel admired the normally quiet girl’s observations, as annoying as they were. Cara had a couple of nice pieces of jewelry, but Mariel had experienced Lord Stonewell’s wrath and knew that Cara’s family was short on money—for the nobility. Mariel was not so cruel as to victimize Cara and let her be at the mercy of her father’s fists or the end of his whip. She did not want to tell Cara she knew any of this, so she remained silent and continued to strap on her weapons.

Cara eventually gave up and lay back down, but when Mariel looked at the other bed, it was to see her roommate watching her.

“Yes, I have a sword,” Mariel spat, as she drew Aracklin to calm herself.

“I know.”

Mariel stopped what she was doing and gawked in disbelief. “And you didn’t turn me in?”

Cara sat up and shook her head. “You weren’t hurting anyone and they would have taken your weapons away from you. The king and queen have taken so much away from you already. I didn’t want to see you lose anything else.”

Did Cara feel sorry for her? Mariel loathed being pitied, but she still felt gratitude to this girl.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Cara beamed and then, having received an approval for her actions, she decided to be brave again. “No one here at the convent wants to hurt you, Mariel . . . except maybe Isabel and her friends. The priestesses are just doing their job, teaching you how to be a proper lady.”

“I don’t want to be a proper lady.”

Silence descended on the room and Mariel started to leave.

“There are some useful things to know. Learning Dremien is good because then you can communicate with people from Drema and Reckive. And you never know when you will be caught in a situation where you are invited to dance or sing. Needlepoint can be relaxing when you let it, and it lets you be creative, which noblewomen are rarely allowed to be. And doesn’t it take a lot of effort to eat poorly? I agree that royal genealogy is boring and I can’t really see a point in it, especially since they glorify even the worst kings.”

An unexpected laugh burst from Mariel’s lips at Cara’s last comment. The girl had some fire in her after all, and she was smart.

“Behaving well doesn’t mean you have lost to the king and queen,” Cara continued, her voice growing stronger and more confident. “If you act well, people are less likely to suspect you, and more willing to listen to and respect you. If you want to change what noblewomen are allowed to learn and do, you can’t do it here. The priestesses report to the king and other aristocrats, so they are just as trapped in what they are permitted to do as we are. You are the princess, the first female heir in the history of the de Sharec’s rule. You can change those things, but not by being a terror to the convent.”

Mariel snorted and left the room despite Cara’s protests. Her words were similar to James’s and Mariel did not like them. They struck in a place that was already wounded, a place that she tried to ignore. She made a mess of things in the kitchen, but all the while Cara’s words repeated in her head.

Cara was asleep when Mariel returned. She stared at the younger girl for a while. Cara had changed even in the short time that Mariel had known her. She was less timid and the fire that burned beneath her fear was becoming more apparent. Mariel liked her, wanted to be her friend, but at the same time she rejected the idea, afraid to lay her trust in a noble.

Mariel closed her eyes to shut out the image of her slumbering roommate. Mariel felt alone, utterly alone. It was an odd feeling for her, an independent girl that relied on no one. She had been on countless missions alone, but she made friends easily, at least with commoners. Nobles were a different matter entirely. Most aristocrats were grasping, devious people who would do anything to better their own position. Why would the girls at this finishing school be any different?

Isabel proved that they were not. After learning Mariel was the princess, Isabel had tried to befriend her, to apologize for what she had done, to laugh about the stupid peasants and how funny it was to watch them begging in the streets. Mariel was so disgusted by this that she could not even form suitable words to respond. Instead, she had left the room, even though it was the middle of a lesson. With that failure, Isabel had given up her attempt at kindness and went back to being cruel, still hoping that she would receive a position as a lady’s maid, since the queen appointed them, not the princess.

Although there were servants at the convent, Mariel’s higher status made them uncomfortable and she had failed to persuade them to call her by her first name even before her heritage had been revealed. She thought Betti might be willing to be a friend, she was arrogant enough, but Mariel did not like her, so that idea was out of the question.

One morning, she had risen earlier than normal and arrived at the deer trail before James. She had debated whether or not to run alone, but she liked James’s presence and even Iyela was not around. Instead, she had headed to the stables where she found Betti sleeping in James’s bed. This annoyed Mariel more than she thought it would. She had blackmailed the maid into silence, but Mariel had refused to speak to James for several days. At first he tried to joke about it, but then he apologized, and Mariel never caught him with a girl in his bed again.

Mariel had managed to convince herself that her anger sprang from the fact that Betti now knew what Mariel did before dawn and she could easily turn her in. As to James, she liked his company, but was aware that she did not know what his motives were. She wanted to be his friend, but she was not certain he was not here to spy on her and kill her if she made a wrong move.

In the end, she was completely alone without friends or family, and without the hope of this torment coming to an end. Unless she behaved.       

The day after Cara’s lecture, Mariel continued with her regular daily routine. She squirmed and made a racket during lessons, never doing what the priestesses asked, and always finding a sharp retort. Yet, the anger was not as fierce with Cara’s words about how the priestesses were just the middlemen frequently coming to mind.

“Ladies,” said Priestess Penelope late in the afternoon, “I wish to see how your accents are improving in Dremien. Miss Yolanda, we will begin with you. Please say ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance’ in Dremien.”