A shout went up. Her eyes shot open.
The guards.
The princess collected her sword and dagger, tightening the strap of the scabbard slung across her back and dropping the knife inside her boot. Before she could get to the door, Taillefer yanked it open, his eyes averted as if he assumed she was still indecent. “Hurry, Princess! We must be going!”
Amarande sprinted behind him to find two horses fully prepared—ones she knew well, twin chestnut geldings by the names of Bastian and Balkan. Taillefer held Bastian’s reins out to her, and she heaved herself on.
“Did you fill waterskins?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I wasn’t saying you were, I wasn’t sure you’d had enough time.”
“I had possiblytoo much. Do you need me to demonstrate how one hitches a belt without the help of a maid?”
“Shut up and keep up.”
The princess tore into the night, not bothering to look behind her as she directed the horse toward the exact same trail she’d used when she’d chased Luca’s kidnappers into the Torrent mere days ago. Behind her, Balkan squealed as Taillefer kicked him into motion.
“There! Stop them!”
Hearing the guards’ voices so near, Amarande gripped Bastian’s bridle with white knuckles, hurtling toward the break in the trees and the mountain passes beyond the castle grounds. She dipped low on the horse’s neck, urging him on until the only noises she could hear were the pounding of her heart, the whistle of wind in her hair, and the horse’s hoofbeats.
Lone hoofbeats.
Stars.If Taillefer had been captured, she could only hope he’d keep his mouth shut. Though that was unlikely.
The princess hazarded a look over her shoulder, and found slight relief in seeing him in the near distance, thundering toward her, a grin on his face, and chaos in his wake.
Dozens of horses galloped freely across the open field between them and the Itspi’s guards. The horses blocked and corralled, distracted and disturbed any attempt to follow the two fugitives. A clamor rose to the stars as the men shouted orders and imprecations. Taillefer’s grin grew wider as he and Balkan caught up to Amarande and Bastian.Past the Itspi’s grounds, they looped down switchback after switchback in the foothills surrounding the castle. Soon they would be lost in the maze of mountain paths leading away from the Itspi and Ardenia. No effective chase would occur until sunup, and even then their tracks would be growing cold and muddled with summer travelers.
“Clever move, Prince, loosing those horses. But I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. They’ll come after us before long.”
Taillefer did not drop his satisfied grin, nor did he hesitate to answer.
“It is always worth it to celebrate the little victories, Princess—it might be the last one you get.”
CHAPTER20
THEbody should not have been unexpected. Still, it was disturbing.
General Koldo stood over the guard they’d found sprawled on his back near the gatehouse. Under the light of blazing sconces within the Itspi’s morgue, the general frowned and inspected the body. The entry wound was precise—straight into the lung with an upward thrust. The kind of maneuver that would have destroyed the guard’s capacity both to breathe and to call for help before the life bled out of him altogether.
Clearly the killing had been done by someone highly trained. It was exactly the sort of blow Koldo had taught both Amarande and Luca—decisive and deadly. That they would use their training to kill a guard in the castle they grew up in was disturbing.
But Koldo did not believe either to be the murderer.
Strategic mind churning, the general left the morgue and climbed the north tower stairs to the council room, puzzling over the clues left behind by Amarande’s escape.
The window broken from the outside. The melted and misshapen metal bars that had once framed it. The similarly destroyed lock. A concussed Second Captain Pualo.
And then there were the reports of Amarande’s escape into the Torrent.
The gatehouse guards sent to the tower on orders that were not given. The murdered guard, yes. The Itspi’s own horses used as diversion. All perpetrated not by the princess, but according to witnesses, by her likely rescuer.
A young man dressed in an Itspi guard uniform. Blond hair, blue eyes, bare jaw.
Not Luca. Entering the council room, Koldo firmly shut the doors behind her and approached the great table. As always, her eyes darted first to Ferdinand. He sat uncomfortably in Sendoa’s seat at the headof the table. Geneva paced furiously up and down the length of the room as Satordi, Garbine, and Joseba watched her warily.
