Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) (33 page)

“I think dealing with you is more than a fair test of my patience.”

“Vice versa.”

Mariel could not help it, she giggled. She clamped a hand to her mouth to cover up the traitorous laugh.

“People do not think you are competent to take the throne.”

Mariel had no argument for that. She would be the last person to think she was a good candidate for the throne. James thought she would be good, so did Cara and even Hallie. But she did not.

“Can we leave now?” Mariel asked. “I only have my undergarments on and if we wait much longer, they’ll think we’re doing something that would be highly improper for a princess.”

Dreyfuss narrowed his eyes, but refrained from replying. He pulled open the door and indicated that she could leave.

Most of the people who had been in the basement execution room waited in the cramped hallway, but everyone was quiet. Sir Mathias and the majority of the guards who had been gleeful over her capture were nowhere in sight. Cara and Hallie, dressed and smiling, held her clothes and weapons.

She walked over to them. “I told you ‘The only true battle ever lost or won is hope against despair.’”

“The people you grew up with were very wise,” Cara told her.

“I think so too,” Mariel said as she began to strap various weapons onto her body. She knew everyone was watching, but she did not care. They had already had enough time to stare at her scantily clad body that if they had a little more time it would not make a difference. She wanted to get out of this prison with all its bad memories as soon as possible.

She reluctantly allowed her friends to help her into her stained dress, since the style made it impossible to do on her own. Having taken off her shoes in the tavern to prepare to escape, she had to go barefoot now, but her feet were tough and she did not care. What she would miss was her cloak, which would have at least helped keep some of the rain off of her.

“Ready?” Dreyfuss asked coldly when she was dressed.

Mariel scanned the crowd, looking for one man in particular. Her eyes slid over the recently freed tavern-people including her contact Dale and her dance partner from the night before.

“Wait a moment,” she said, when she caught sight of her quarry.

All eyes silently followed and the bodies moved out of her way as she approached the tired, pale man wearing a damp uniform of black and green.

“I owe you my life, Guardsman Cowart.” She remembered Sir Mathias calling him that in the tavern.

The middle-aged man shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. “Ya don’t owe me nothin’, Yer Highness. I done a bad thing ta ya when ya was li’l. I coulda saved ya then, but I didn’t. Ya done right by lots o’ people. Helpin’ them that need it and got nuttin’. Ya ain’t gonna be a ruler that gives ta the rich folk and takes everythin’ from the poor. Natric will be a better place with ya on the throne. Yer gonna be a great queen.”

Guardsman Cowart sunk to his knees and bowed his head in respect. Mariel stared at him in shock. A very different shock than she had felt when Dreyfuss had saved her from the noose, but a shock that was just as profound.

Murmurs of agreement passed through the crowd. Dale, who stood nearby, was the next to lower herself to her knees and bow her head. As if a silent pact had been formed, others began to drop to the floor too. People in civilian clothes and uniform alike kneeled. Some of the guards looked wary, but they followed the majority. Cara and Hallie dipped into gracefully curtsies.

Mariel spun around, staring at the incredible scene surrounding her. “Please don’t,” she croaked, but no one listened to her.

She stopped turning in circles to stare at the only other person who was still upright and looked as surprised as she felt. Dreyfuss did not seem to believe the respect these people showed her either.

“We shall depart,” he said finally and started walking down the hallway.

Mariel followed quickly, not daring to look back at the bowing people. Cara and Hallie rose from their curtsies and trailed behind.

When Mariel stepped outside of the prison, she inhaled the fresh air to clear her head. A carriage from the Citadel waited on the street, its driver shrouded in his cloak trying to stay dry and two miserable looking horses with their heads dipping toward the ground.

The archmagician, Hallie, and Cara made a dash for the warm confines of the carriage, but Mariel stood on the steps of the prison, letting the rain wash over her. The rain was tangible, understandable, unlike everything that had happened in those formidable stone walls that towered into the dark sky behind her.

* * *

Dreyfuss kept his word. Mariel was allowed to wander the Citadel whenever she wanted, so long as guards accompanied her. The princess took full advantage of this allowance. Almost all of her day was spent outside the confines of the suite.

She made contact with all of her spies and informants within the Citadel. After her arrest and almost-hanging, news that the outlaw Mariel Quickwit was the princess spread rapidly in the city. Because of this, she did not have to break the news to her contacts, they already knew. There were mixed reactions among her old friends or contacts. Some were ecstatic over learning her new position and believed she would do good and looked forward to watching her shake things up in the world of aristocracy. Others did not seem to care whether she was the infamous Quickwit or a long-lost de Sharec. And a few rejected her altogether and glared at her with expressions of hatred like Lizzie did on the few occasions Mariel saw her.

The reactions of her contacts were similarly matched by the remainder of the inhabitants of the Citadel whenever they saw her and her guards. Mariel had expected most reactions to be negative. A few people who she had not known in her outlaw days strongly supported her, but the majority of the populace was wary and curious, uncertain of what the future would hold with her as princess.

Cara and Hallie woke before dawn with her every morning to join her in the practice yard. Cara had found confidence in her escape from the guards holding her and Hallie in the tavern, and Hallie found the determination she needed to learn to fight. With persistence, Mariel’s body returned to its normal strength, and the wound healed so that it only hurt occasionally.

Lessons for her two friendly lady’s maids did not end with fight training. On the sly, she taught them how to pick locks. She hoped they would never need the knowledge, but the incident in the prison had taught her it was better to teach them as much as she could.

Isabel remained ostracized from the three other young women who lived in the royal suite. When the refugees from the finishing school returned to the convent near Pribum, Isabel lost the authority and power she had gained over her years there. However, she did not fail to be cruel to Cara at every opportunity and continued to try to recruit Hallie to her side. She was a nuisance to Mariel, but the princess never backed down to her bullying.

The morning that the guests from the convent departed, High Priestess came to say goodbye. Her visit was stiff and formal. She managed to lecture Mariel once more on the importance of behaving properly and how she needed to be generous to all important people she met, and be careful about what she said or did around them to avoid offending anyone or making enemies.

The lecture continued for some time, and Mariel was proud that she refrained from making any degrading comments. When High Priestess finished she stood awkwardly and then stepped forward and loosely hugged Mariel in a stiff embrace.

“May Narel watch over you,” were High Priestess’s last words, as she quickly retreated from the room.

The question of when Mariel and her lady’s maids would travel to the capital was one that continued to remain unanswered. Every time Isabel inquired saw the archmagician, but he was mum on the point. Mariel never asked. She was content to remain at the Citadel in the City of the Gods. The life she led was not nearly as free as the one she had once lived, but it was certainly an improvement to the finishing school. She had no desire to face her grandparents and officially take up the role as crown princess.

Although Mariel found that she could have a civil conversation with Dreyfuss, the actual event was rare. In public, both made an attempt to be polite, but Mariel’s guards and lady’s maids made an effort to stay away when Dreyfuss visited the royal suite.

True to her promise, she did not try another escape attempt. Twice, Mariel managed to persuade Dreyfuss to allow her to visit the city. What she had not anticipated was the retinue that accompanied her. Hallie and Cara gladly agreed to come, and even Isabel wanted to go into the city. Mariel had expected only to have her normal entourage of six guards; however, the guard tripled when she left the Citadel. Two lower ranked magicians also came, plus the archmagician himself, which irked Mariel.

She had hoped to keep a low profile, wandering through the markets, visiting people she knew. But in the company of eighteen heavily armed men wearing green and silver uniforms with a serpent on the front of their tunics, three men in magician robes that showed they were dedicated to different gods, and three young noblewomen wearing wide-skirted dresses, made it impossible for Mariel not to be noticed.

As they walked through the city, Mariel was quick to notice others who tracked the crowd and followed them. She counted five of these men, all dressed to blend into the crowd. Two of them she recognized from her regular guard and the others she assumed were members of the Versati Corps.

The first day she went into the city, she returned earlier than she had originally planned because the constant bowing and attention her entourage received drove her mad. Not to mention, many people were scared off by the approach of the large, powerful looking group.

During the first week of November, she decided to try another sojourn into the city. She insisted on fewer guards, Dreyfuss refused. She decided on a different approach, the same amount of guards but more in civilian clothing, blending in.

The second time she went into the city, her uniformed guards totaled ten, and she had a robed magician wearing a guard uniform instead of his priestly robes. This time she knew what to expect, and so did the people of the city.

As she conversed with a woman selling thread, who she had known for years, Mariel’s instincts kicked in. She knew someone was next to her, someone who should not be. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a small bedraggled looking boy cut the string of her reticule.

The boy is good,
she thought with a smile, but one could not pick the pocket of a master cutpurse—at least not without that master’s permission. The child glanced up and froze with the reticule in his hand when he saw her covertly watching him.

“Share,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. He bolted in fear.

As she watched him escape into the crowd, she laughed at the fact that the surrounding surrounded had failed to notice the foist. But that was not an entirely fair conclusion. The uniformed guards had not seen, but she met the eyes of three of the Versati Corps soldiers who stared at her in surprise. She smiled winningly at them and continued her conversation with the merchant.         

That night, she stood on the balcony of her suite staring out over the city. She pulled her brocade robe tighter around her to help protect against the strong winds. A storm was coming.

“Are you going to bed soon?”

Mariel looked over her shoulder to see Tristan’s large head peering around the main entrance into the royal suite.

“You’re on guard?”

He nodded and grinned. “You can feel safe tonight.”

Mariel rolled her eyes. “As if I need anyone to protect me. I’m no frilly maiden.”

Tristan laughed and pulled his head back into the corridor with his fellow guards. Mariel looked over the city, wondering how much longer she would be here. When she stepped into the solar, she locked the doors to the balcony before retreating to her room.

She also locked her bedroom door and made sure the windows were fastened shut. After taking a drop of the potion that suppressed her dreams, she placed her sword and a candelabra within easy reach and climbed into bed. It was only after feeling the reassuring steel of the knife beneath her pillow that she allowed herself to drift into sleep.

* * *

She jerked awake. Her heart hammered and her body was tense and alert. She strained her ears to listen. What had woken her was what sounded like a book being dropped onto a table, and the noise had come from the solar, not this room.

Mariel climbed out of bed, gripping the knife she kept beneath her pillow in one hand. It would be stupid to walk into a dark room where she had heard a strange sound without a light. And she was no fool.

She carefully lit the candelabra, which illuminated much of the bedroom. Shifting the candelabra into the hand holding the knife, she unsheathed Aracklin and held it before her.

Padding across the room to the door, she pressed her ear against the door and waited. No sound came from the solar, but that did not mean no one was in there. After they retired, Cara, Hallie, and Isabel stayed in their rooms which were located at the other end of the suite. Mariel’s guards only entered the room with permission or if they thought something was amiss. Who had made the sound?

Knowing that an assassin might be waiting on the other side of the door, Mariel angled her body behind the door as she opened it. The solar was a large room, and even with the help of the candelabra, much of the room remained in the dark as she stepped inside.