Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) (25 page)

“What would you do without me? I don’t suppose the priests and priestesses appreciate burned bread very much. I would expect them to burn your hide instead.” Mariel made a show of inspecting Lizzie’s rear. “Well, seeing as your behind is still whole, I suppose I must resign myself to the knowledge that I am the one that causes you enough distress to burn the bread. You try to break through my mysterious persona, and all you get is burned dough.”

Lizzie laughed and tossed flour at her friend. “Shut up, fiend. Start asking your questions, since I doubt I’ll get another word from you.”

Mariel smiled wickedly and raised an eyebrow in challenge. Lizzie pursed her lips and fluttered her eyelashes, showing that she would ask nothing else.

Mariel’s mouth went dry. Questions normally poured forth from her lips with ease, but now they felt dammed up. Perhaps it was because these questions were of a more personal nature. But the very thought of being scared angered her so much that she launched into her first question: “Do you remember when Princess Carolina was murdered?”

Lizzie was used to Mariel’s strange questions. “Not really. I was too young at the time. I just know it was gruesome and that everyone who lived or worked at Remel was also killed.”

“No recent information?”

“Yes, but I doubt it will be new to you.”

“Try me.”

“Word was that the little bastard princess was killed with her mother, up until last March when the king announced that he would name his granddaughter as his heir. I heard some of the magicians talking about how Brightsword stormed into the royal palace in Fintel after Princess Carolina’s murder, even though he was banned from the place. In a private audience with King Vincent who was accompanied only by Archmagician Dieter Dreyfuss and two guards, Brightsword reported the murder and then claimed that his six-year-old daughter, Princess Mariel, was still alive but on the run.

“He asked the king to order a magician to perform a blood trace to find the girl, but the king refused. Brightsword then killed the two guards, knocked out the archmagician, and almost killed the king before he escaped and went underground to form the Resistance and turn outlaw. It was apparently two years before he found his daughter, but that piece of information is less certain than the others.

“And then the queen grew too old to bear children, and the king needed an heir. They say the archmagician performed a blood trace which revealed that Princess Mariel was still alive, but then the vision faded and he could never find her and track her. He struggled for five years, and eventually had to use Brightsword’s brother’s blood and track him to find her. You don’t happen to know why the blood trace didn’t work on her, do you?”

“No,” Mariel replied honestly. “Lizzie, I assume that you know the princess is now here at the Citadel?”

The young woman nodded as she shaped her piece of dough.

“Do you know why?”

“She arrived six days ago from the finishing school in Pribum at the Convent of Narel. The other students and a few priestesses who teach them came here about a month ago for safety. Someone tried to assassinate the princess at the end of August, and apparently nearly succeeded. Her injuries were so extensive that she would have died without magical healing and she was not well enough to be moved until now. You don’t need me to break you into her room do you?”

Mariel feigned an injured expression and placed her floury hand to her breast. “And you ask that question to the brave spy who taught you everything you know?”

Lizzie shoved her and then pointed to the unshaped piece of dough on the cutting board. “Finish up with that, will you. I would think that with two of us we could get the work done in half the time, not double!”

“But you know you appreciate my company more than any lumpy piece of dough.”

“It’s not lumpy!”

“Do you have any information about the Assassin?” There, she had said it, the question she needed answered the most.

Lizzie hesitated, nervous. “Assassins are a dangerous topic.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“You don’t?”

Mariel knew she should, after all, she had been the target of the attack. “It’s complicated. It’s not anyone I know. The assassin who attacked at the Convent knows how to use magic. I was hoping that since you spy on so many magicians, you might know something.”

The older girl shivered. “An assassin with magic? And I always thought basic assassinations were cruel. Sorry, I haven’t heard or found any information about who the assassin is.”

Disappointment and relief spread through Mariel and she could not say which emotion she felt more strongly. She was disappointed that she could not find the information she needed, information that was vitally important, enough that the knowledge could be life or death. Yet, she also felt a profound relief that she did not have to face the memories of the attacker.

She remembered back to the day she had awoken after the attack: the inexplicable horror she had felt and the memories that had scuttled away whenever she tried to elicit them. James had been astonished that she could not remember, but she had always had the feeling that he knew more about the attack—and the assassin in particular—than he let on. If she wanted the answers she was seeking, all she needed to do was ask him, of this she felt certain. The first problem with this plan was that James had not told her before and so was unlikely to tell her now. Secondly, he had gone to visit the zreshlans and she did not know when he would be back, or if he would return. Although, based on traveling time he could be here now.

“Have you seen James Snaketongue, recently?”

Lizzie burst into a fit of girlish giggles. Annoyance replaced any previous feelings in Mariel. James certainly got around.

The laughter cut off and Lizzie narrowed her eyes at her younger friend in suspicion. “I haven’t seen him since early March. He seems to have vanished, just like you did. Why do you ask? You never have before.”

Mariel shrugged, hoping she looked nonchalant about it. “I believe James might have the information I seek and I know that you are one of his contacts, too.”

Lizzie shifted uncomfortably and hid her embarrassment by pulling crisp, golden loaves of bread from various ovens. “You knew that I passed him information? But he’s not part of the Resistance. I thought you would be angry.”

“James may not have been a part of our underground organization to stop the de Sharec tyranny, but he shares a common hatred of the Natrician crown. We have used each other as contacts in the past.”

The kitchen maid seemed appeased by the reply and ordered Mariel to begin kneading a new piece of dough. They worked in silence for a while, and the hungry princess stole a few bites of fresh bread when no one was looking.

“Don’t tell me that I haven’t seen you in half a year, and the only information you seek is about the princess’s assassin?”

Mariel sighed. “Let’s just say that my situation has changed a lot since I last visited. Things are very complicated now. I have been out of touch with everyone for months. Perhaps you can catch me up on news.”

Lizzie began talking, telling Mariel every bit of gossip or piece of information she had uncovered. She spoke about how the war was going with Drema and reports from the capital. Mariel mostly listened in silence, amazed and depressed by how out of the loop she had been since she had started school at the convent.

“Do you have any rumors for me to spread about backstabbing nobles or maybe the new princess to stir things up a bit? Are there any plans for the Resistance to strike? I know Brightsword is out of the picture, with his daughter being crowned princess and all, but there has to be a new leader to take his place. Maybe you?”

Lizzie shoved Mariel playfully, but the smaller girl stumbled. As she regained her footing, she rubbed her sore left arm.

“The Resistance is dead. Brightsword has been fully pardoned of his crimes, you know that. The inner circle left the kingdom with him. That is, everyone except me. Unforeseen events, the cruelty of Dreyfuss and King Vincent, and blackmail have conspired against us. A month ago Dreyfuss fully pardoned James Snaketongue.”

The dough in Lizzie’s hands plopped onto the cutting board. “Why would the archmagician pardon James?”

“Dreyfuss needs someone to protect the princess, someone who would actually try. After the assassination attack, James risked his life to save hers. Trapped, Dreyfuss gave him two options: die or serve him and become the captain of the princess’s personal guard.”

“But I know James. He would rather choose death than serve corrupted royalty!”

Mariel shook her head. “I don’t fully understand James’s decision either, or his motives. Perhaps he wants the opportunity to spy . . . Or maybe he is just a loyal friend to the princess.”

Lizzie laughed. “Snaketongue a friend of royalty? Mariel, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

Lizzie was going to figure out the truth soon, and Mariel wondered how she was going to take this twist in events.

“Brightsword was a sergeant in the Versati Corps who turned traitor to the crown and became leader of the Resistance. He was fully pardoned when his
daughter
agreed to become princess. Did you even know he had a daughter?”

“No, but what does this have to do with James?”

“Brightsword led the Resistance. Do you expect that his daughter just sat around in a cozy home all those years and watched?”

Lizzie’s eyes opened wide with realization. “You mean that the princess was a part of the Resistance and she operated without anyone knowing she was related either to Brightsword or to the de Sharec’s? And if she was in the Resistance, she would have known a vast variety of outlaws, including James Snaketongue, and they may have been friends. The princess could be anyone, even someone I’ve met . . .”

The older girl stopped speaking and stared at Mariel as though she had never looked at her properly before. “The princess would be seventeen. They say she is small in stature with brown, curly hair like her mother and the most astonishing green eyes anyone has ever seen.” Lizzie barely spoke higher than a whisper. “Her name is Mariel.”

Mariel felt uncomfortable, but she would not let Lizzie know that. She feared losing Lizzie’s friendship, but James had stood by her when she told him and she hoped this longtime friend would too.

She rolled her eyes and grinned broadly. “And here I thought you were one of my most clever spies. It certainly took you long enough to figure out.”

“But I . . . But you . . . Dear gods!”

“Cat got your tongue? It was a bit of a surprise for me too. I laughed so hard when Dreyfuss told me that the king was recognizing me as his heir that I nearly fell off my mount . . . which would have been wet because we were in the middle of a river.”

It took several long minutes before Lizzie recovered her senses. “Why would you agree to become princess? I thought you loathed wealth and titles and the royal family with every fiber of your being.”

“I do, but it’s, well,
complicated
.”

“There’s that word again,” Lizzie said scathingly. “Complicated is your word of the day.”

Mariel ground her teeth. “It’s my word of the year.”

This is what Mariel had been afraid of. Lizzie did not understand why she had agreed to be princess. It hit a nerve that James had guessed right from the very beginning that her papa’s death had been blackmailed against her if she did not become princess. They were not even friends at the time, but Mariel and Lizzie had been friends for years. Granted, James had the advantage of previously knowing that Darren was her father, but Lizzie knew that now, too.

Lizzie moved away from Mariel as though she had turned into a rabid bear. “You have fought against the ruling class for seven years. You have risked your neck and schemed and undermined. I thought you did it all because you really wanted to help the suffering people of this kingdom.”

“I did!”

“Liar!” Lizzie accused. “You hate the king for one reason, and that has nothing to do with the treatment of his people, it has to do with his treatment of
you
!”

“Lizzie, you don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly,
your Highness
, you fought against them for your own revenge. The moment they offered you a pretty gold crown and a high throne to sit on, you turned your back on all of us.”

“Lizzie, listen to me, I don’t want to be princess. I hate this life. But I have no choice . . .”

“No choice?” Lizzie hissed, struggling to keep her voice low and the conversation from being overheard. “You are the one who always told me there is always a choice. There is always a way out or an alternative. You alone had the power to tell the king ‘no,’ but you didn’t. You bowed to him and scraped the floor and batted your eyelashes like an obedient noblewoman. He told you to go to finishing school and you did. You are his now. You belong to the king!”

“I belong to no one!” Mariel yelled, foregoing all pretense of quiet.

Lizzie laughed contemptuously. “You are a slave. You grovel at the feet of King Vincent and Archmagician Dreyfuss. You are nothing more than a puppet. You are a liar and a cheat. You manipulate the situation to be just the way you want because you are
just like them
.”