“They are not your subjects. They are not obligated to listen to you, Princess.”
That nearly made her smile. “The past week has taught me that no one will listen to me anyway because I am not a man. It’s enough to drive a woman mad, and I’m the lucky one—the direct heir.”
“Perhaps it’s no wonder then that my mother and yours are so particularly vengeful.”
The princess bit back a sorrowful laugh. Yes, queens who would hunt, jail, and possibly kill their own children were shaped into their evil, not born that way. Not for the first time, Amarande wondered what kinds of experiences had so twisted her mother—and how she could avoid the same fate.
They arrived at the fork of two tunnels. “The one to the left is where I found the potato cache. It seems to veer for a half mile, and then there is a pile of rubble partially blocking it, but given the potatoes were nearby, I believe there is likely a way through the blockage.” That assumption was enough for Amarande. “If you’re thinking the resistance is literally underground, I second that theory—these natural caves have most definitely been augmented with tools.”
She peered within. “What direction do you think it leads?”
Tallifer had already done this calculation. “Based on where we started and where we landed after becoming compost, I’d say generally to the southeast.”
“That is another clue that this might be a structure frequented by the resistance—that direction would put us close to another man I know with a black wolf.”
“Wait, that was really a black wolf?” He seemed genuinely intrigued. “I thought they’d been extinct for years and that one was a cleverly bred dog.”
“They aren’t extinct. I met one before. Considering how brazenly pro-Otxoa the breeding of a supposedly eradicated species would be, I’m quite confident that those people back there at the inn were members of the resistance. Now we just need to find more—like the man to the east.”
Taillefer cut a quick grin. “Well, if we find any, maybe they’ll dosomething worse to us than fight us, not listen to our pleas, and then banish us to quicksand after we save them and the wolf from the same fate. Like our friends back there did.”
His brand of sarcasm was as sharp as any blade. And utterly annoying. Amarande ignored this.
Bowing like the royal scion he was, Taillefer stepped aside and gestured to the tunnel on the left. “After you. Since you have both a torch and the weapons.”
“I plan to keep them, too.”
The tunnel was tall enough that neither of them had to stoop, though it was thin enough that it demanded they walk single file, their torches flickering wildly with each damp step. The ground was more solid than within the cavern, but the dirt was soft enough Amarande could easily follow Taillefer’s footsteps from hours earlier as they picked along the path.
Before they’d even made the first turn, Taillefer was back to asking questions. “Tell me about the man with a black wolf. How did you become acquainted? Was he friend, foe, or otherwise?”
Amarande wet her lips. “At one point early in my hunt for Luca and the kidnappers, I climbed a large plateau to gain better vantage.”
“Seems reasonable.”
“I thought so—a few sore muscles would be worth it for a glimpse of the riders who’d stolen him away or some other clue as to their direction. What I did not expect was that hauling myself over the edge of the plateau would put me face-to-face with the snarling jaws of a black wolf.”
“I’m unsure if the most unbelievable part of that story is that you were attacked by a black wolf or that this supposedly extinct animal was living atop a plateau.” Taillefer laughed softly. “And, I assume, this one was trained like the one I faced?”
“You are correct. The wolf’s master shot me with a sleeping dart while I fought his animal. Next thing I knew, I awoke in chains, penance to the Warlord.”
The prince nodded—the Warlord’s tax was something about which he already knew—and sighed. “I am beginning to suspect you could make an enemy out of virtually every encounter. You’re terrible at making friends, aren’t you? And the pirates don’t count because their change of allegiance was entirely Luca’s doing, not yours.”
Amarande opened her mouth, then closed it. Was he right? It was true, growing up, she had no real friends other than Luca. But she’d always thought it was because she didn’t need any. Luca was enough.
She quickened her pace, torch raised high and back stiff. “I suppose you could do better. You havelotsof friends. Which was why when you had to flee your homeland they dropped everything and came with you—oh wait.”
“Very funny, Princess.” Taillefer allowed a dark laugh. “Do not take this the wrong way, but before this journey I’ve never argued so inanely with anyone save for my brother. We used to drive our tutors mad with our bickering when we were little.”
Amarande did not take it the wrong way. In fact, it made her a little sad that she could picture Taillefer and Renard together as children. Perhaps that latest blow to the head had made her far more sympathetic than she should be to the sons of Pyrenee. “Trading barbs, disagreeing, tenuous trust supported by occasional teamwork and wrecked by constant suspicion—that was your childhood, no?”
“No.” Taillefer paused for a long moment. “Yes. I did like him best when I managed to get under his skin. I am sure it’s unhealthy. You have not missed anything not knowing your brother, Princess.”
She held up her wounded hand. “He’s already literally gotten under my skin.”
Taillefer laughed. “I am proud to say you have yet to successfully stab me.”
“I appreciate the ‘yet.’”
