“No,” the big man said. A look passed between them.
The Prince looked down and realized they were correct: the clothing he was wearing was ripped and torn where he’d been bound and thrown to the ground. There was also the mud and sweat stains from the journey he could barely remember.
“He was brought here against his will,” she said, glancing again at his wrists, his clothing, his bare feet. Her voice was quick and breathless now. “He was in astruggle. Against a group, I would guess. He put up a fight. Those rips in his elbows are from escaping their grip… wait a minute, what’s that on his…”
She let out a gasp.
“Hold him!”
The big man sheathed his sword and grabbed the Prince, who, despite his years of physical training, was no match for such overwhelming strength and size. Tomaz wrapped a single arm through both of his and placed his other hand on the back of the Prince’s head, rendering him completely immobile.
“What are you doing—stop this! Stop this at once! I am the Prince of Ravens! Do you not understand that?!”
The man moved his second hand to firmly cover his mouth.
“Quiet for a minute please, Prince…” he tapered off.
His head jerked up and he looked at the girl.
“I can’t say his name.”
The girl opened her mouth, but only a small noise of surprise escaped.
The heat of embarrassment and shame flooded the Prince’s face. He stopped struggling and tried to strike up an air of dignified silence, attempting to appear as though he were indifferent to his plight, though as his face was slowly becoming tight and hot from lack of circulation, he was fairly certain it wasn’t working. The girl stepped up to him, and for the first time he got a good look at her, and was surprised to find that she wasn’t a girl at all but a young woman. Her eyes were boring a hole through a spot on his neck.
Quicker than he could follow, she slashed his skin with the tip of her dagger. He drew in a sharp breath, but the cut was shallow. She reached out and pulled something from his neck with a sharp tug. He just managed to suppress a wince of pain.
His eyes slowly focused on what the Exile held in her hand. It was a small three-pronged dart, made of steel with blackened tips. The end was rounded and meant to slide beneath the skin on impact.
“The tips are hollow—and it’s barbed.”
“He showed all the signs of dillixi poisoning,” the giant rumbled, “but there was a puncture wound.”
“I see it,” the girl confirmed. “He must have been drugged again after they arrived. The skin here has only partially healed, the dart must have come first.”
“It makes sense he was captured by surprise and then taken to where I found him. Why would they want to kill him there, though?”
“I don’t know. But all of that on top of his name being taken away...”
“Death Watch,” finished the big man. The girl looked at the Prince and considered him for a long time. Fear and curiosity warred in her face, but slowly the fear died away, and when it was gone completely, her green eyes grew very wide, making her look almost demonic.
“If you were the Prince of Ravens,” she said, “then you aren’t anymore.”
Chapter Four: The First Ray of Sunlight
A chill ran down the Prince’s back.
The Death Watch. Could it be?
Obviously, it was a ploy, a gamble by one of his siblings, either to frame another of the Children or to remove him from the capital and prevent him from receiving his Inheritance. But which of his siblings would make such a bold move? And could they have actually employed the Death Watchmen? It would be a risky move, something that could be traced back to them eventually. The Watchmen cared little about revealing their motives—and they, like all creatures of Bloodmagic, were bound to the Children and the Empress.
And… had they truly intended to kill him? No. No, that couldn’t be. Take him off the board, remove him for some political purpose, that was all they must have intended. To kill one of the Children… that was an impossibility. These Exiled, they were lying to sow the seeds of doubt in his mind. They didn’t understand how these things worked.
Symanta was part of it at the very least, he realized. She had delivered the Summons. Symanta, as Prince of Snakes, would have known instantly if she had been told a lie, even a lie of omission. Whoever had tried—succeeded,he corrected himself—in having him removed from the Fortress at Lucien had gained Symanta’s temporary loyalty. It was unlikely that she had acted on her own. This plan was too audacious for her; she enjoyed pulling strings in the shadows. Rikard perhaps?
It didn’t matter. Not yet. What did matter was returning to the Fortress to deal with it. The Children were forbidden from killing one another, and if Mother found out… She would bevery angry.
A spasm of fear flashed through the Prince’s mind as he thought of what She might do.
