The Golden Prince Page 5

  The centicore grunted. I pretended to ignore him. He grunted again. I stared at the empty road ahead of us, willing him to go away.

  Soon tiring of me, the beast sprang in front of the shrieking horses. The one closest to him reared up and kicked out with his front legs. His interest seemed to be in the horses. At least he wasn’t attacking them.

  Hayes moaned on the ground, clutching his thigh.

  Ever so slowly, I lifted myself the remainder of the way out of the carriage, steering clear of the window now facing skyward. I crept forward, dragging my sword with me. Noticing me, the beast lowered his head and pointed a horn in my direction. As long as I kept my footing atop the carriage, I was out of reach. I didn’t lift my blade until I’d reached the front. There, I sliced through the leather straps of the nearest harness. Once free, the horse took off at a gallop for the forest without a backward glance. The centicore gave chase, loping gracefully over the terrain.

  “Thank Sky,” Kenzie said.

  I whipped around and found my sister’s red head poking out. “I told you to stay in the carriage.”

  “I am in the carriage,” she returned.

  True enough.

  We watched the horse and centicore dash into the woods and disappear. I waited until the count of ten before pulling my sister out. I jumped to the road and set my sword down only long enough to help my sister to solid ground.

  “Poor Hayes. We have to get him help,” Kenzie said as she crouched beside the groaning male.

  “The village of Eno,” I said. “We’ll ride together.”

  We dragged Hayes as carefully as we could, resting his back against the upturned carriage.

  “Keep pressure on the wound,” I ordered Hayes.

  Kenzie hurried with me to our remaining horse.

  “Easy there, fella.” She ran her hand along his white-and-gray-spotted neck. “Easy.” Her voice was soothing.

  Once the horse settled down, I unfastened his harness from the carriage. I gave Kenzie a lift and jumped on behind her.

  Kenzie and I took off at a trot. Without a saddle, it was rough going, but luckily the road was rife with villages and we’d passed one not long ago.

  In Eno, we found a local brewer willing to lend his cart and eldest son, who set out with a friend to collect Hayes and deliver him to Ashcraw. The brewer didn’t sound surprised at our run-in with a centicore.

  “The yale’s been venturing from the forest of late.” He dug dirty nails through his beard to scratch his chin. “One of ’em ran poor Briven straight through a few weeks ago.”

  “Someone was killed?” My voice rose.

  “Aye.”

  Kenzie sucked in a breath and clutched at the gold acorn pendant around her neck.

  The brewer’s gaze softened. “Don’t you worry yerself overmuch, me lady. Briven was in his cups. Spotted the beast in the fields and thought he could rope the creature and bring him home.”

  “Oh.” Kenzie glanced sideways at me.

  “Does my father know about this?” I asked.

  There were two big gaps where the brewer’s front teeth should have been when he grinned. “My own lovely Velma delivered a report to the count. Good male, your father.”

  I nodded. My father wasn’t bad, just rather useless.

  I thanked the brewer and set out with my sister to catch up to the cart. My knuckles ached with how tightly I gripped the leather reins. I did not like having my sister exposed to another attack. We’d never had to worry about such things before.

  “What a nuisance,” I griped.

  “I don’t think the beast meant us harm. He seemed interested in the horses. Maybe he just wanted a companion,” Kenzie said.

  “Whatever its interests, those creatures are a danger,” I returned.

  It was dusk by the time we clomped up the cobbled drive in front of Ashcraw Manor. Servants ran out the door at once to carry Hayes in. We were unable to retain a full-time healer, so our footman ran to fetch our cook, who stepped in to help whenever servants were minorly injured. If Hayes’s wound proved serious, we would send for a healer in the morning.

  We’d have to wait until first light to go back for the carriage. Hopefully, our travel trunks would still be there. I wasn’t sure what to do about the centicore. At least Father took the matter seriously. He called me, his advisor, and a visiting friend into his study after breakfast.

  Father’s personal sanctuary consisted of all dark wood furnishings and stiff leather upholstery. The thick burgundy curtains were partially drawn, giving the false impression of evening. Flames glowed dimly from candlesticks in a far corner.

  Father pressed his palm over a polished walking cane, cutting a fashionable figure in his stockings, breeches, and velvet waistcoat. His short brown hair was heavily curled and brushed upward. He looked dashing, and he knew it.

  Once we’d all gathered, Father poured brandy from a snifter and offered the drinks as though they were nightcaps. I declined, as did Father’s advisor, Dakath. Dad’s best friend, Nashton, another male of slender build and high fashion, accepted the alcohol with gusto, raising his glass before taking his first sip.

  “So now we have a problem with centicores.” Father swirled his drink around his crystal glass.

  “I only saw the one,” I offered.

  “There have been reports of more.” Father took a sip.

  Dakath nodded. “In the village of Adler, a baker claimed to have seen a whole herd run by.”

  “Exaggerations, undoubtedly,” Nashton scoffed. “Didn’t you say they mostly stick to the woods?” He looked to my father for confirmation and, receiving it in the form of a nod and sip of brandy, continued. “What problem is it of yours, then?”

  Father set down his glass and drummed his fingers over his cane. “I cannot have the creatures attacking carriages.”

  “It didn’t attack so much as spook the horses,” I spoke up.

  “Nevertheless, I need this problem to go away before our masquerade ball.” Father leaned on his cane and looked at Dakath. “Any suggestions?”

  “The ball is in two weeks’ time.” Dakath blinked several times.

  “Quite so. We need a swift solution.” Nashton downed his brandy and placed the glass on a lace doily atop a round walnut table. “I’ve got just the thing,” he announced with a triumphant grin. “While on holiday in Phantiste, I toured the Vasose Plain with a local guide. He knew how to track all of the wild beasts, including the basilisk. You may not be aware that basilisks are sworn enemies of the centicore. I say Ralphio portals us to Phantiste, where we hire a guide to capture a basilisk, put it to sleep, return it to Ashcraw, set it loose in the woods, and let the serpent take care of this pesky little centicore problem.”

  “But basilisks aren’t native to Ashcraw,” Dakath said.

  “Do you have a better idea?” Nashton folded his arms and lifted his chin.

  “Cancel the ball until we come up with a viable solution,” Dakath suggested.

  “I am not canceling my own masquerade.” Father’s grip tightened around his cane.

  Nashton walked to his side and clapped his shoulder. “Certainly not. Bring in a basilisk. My guide said they sting centicores in the forehead, and then the beasts’ eyes swell and burst. Effective, wouldn’t you agree?”

  My lip curled at the gruesome imagery. “What if villagers wander too close to the woods?” I asked. “I heard they can kill faeries with one look.”

  “Rumors,” Nashton said, waving away my concern.

  “Why not portal guests into the party?” I asked.

  Father frowned. “The royal family doesn’t allow guests to portal into the castle, nor shall we open such shortcuts into Ashcraw. The gentry must arrive by carriage and be received properly.”

  It was utterly absurd. We’d be trading one problem for another. We might even magnify the issue. Who knew if what Nashton heard was truth or speculation? More likely, we’d end up with both centicores and a vicious, birdlike snake. What I
had read about the creatures in books did not make me eager to search one out. Introducing new species to our kingdom’s habitat was out of the question.

  I held in my sigh. “At least give me time to ride out to the woods and try to get a better assessment of the situation before you go bringing in a basilisk.”

  “To end up pierced through the leg like Hayes?” Father demanded. “The Peppercuffs cannot marry their daughter to a corpse. Need I remind you that this ball is for your benefit?”

  I pursed my lips. Father and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but we never argued publicly. It would have been uncouth.

  “What happens when we have basilisks overrunning our forest?” I asked instead.

  “Nonsense.” Nashton flicked his wrist. “We’ll only bring back one, so it can’t breed.”

  I turned to Dakath, hoping he’d come up with another suggestion. The white-haired advisor wasn’t much older than Father. He’d always given his opinions but never raised his voice or forced his points. Sometimes Father listened, sometimes he didn’t. One thing was guaranteed. Whenever Nashton was around, his was the voice Father heeded most.

  “It’s settled, then. We bring in a basilisk from Phantiste.” Father rapped his cane on the floor once.

  Nashton’s face lit up. He rubbed his hands together. “While we’re there, we really must visit the Glitterwish District.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Nashton. I had never visited the kingdom of Phantiste, but I’d heard of the specialty brothels famous in the Glitterwish District.

  “Another time,” Father said with a lazy half smile. “I need this matter taken care of promptly.”

  I was not invited to accompany Father and Nashton on their cockamamie enterprise. Thank Sky. I had no interest in snakes with beaked, bird-like heads. There were reportedly several varieties of the creatures. One was said to have a third eye that could kill with a mere glance. The sting from another made the flesh dissolve from its victims—supposedly. I’d rather take my chances with a centicore.

  It was the night before the ball at Ashcraw, and there had been no more reported sightings of centicores. Father boasted that Nashton’s plan had worked beautifully. I didn’t point out that the centicore had, perhaps, kept to the woods. It’s not as though they frolicked through the fields on a regular basis to begin with.

  Whatever the reason for their absence, I had a far more alarming noose around my neck.

  It was just Father and me in the dining room after Mother and Kenzie left us to our after-dinner port. Mother spent a great deal of time with her sister in the kingdom of Birn, but she was always around for a party. She’d seen to the orchestra, refreshments, décor, and guest chambers. Hosting overnight guests was a strain on our dwindling staff, but Mother was skilled at compensating for such occasions. Knowing an engagement was to be announced, her sister had lent some of her own servants from Birn. Father liked to pretend we didn’t need them, but Mother was far more practical.

  “Tomorrow, we will announce your engagement to Miss Peppercuff.” Father lifted his glass in a preemptive toast.

  “One must propose before one is engaged,” I muttered sourly.

  “You’ve had plenty of time. Now is the time for action,” came Father’s swift reply.

  I twisted the stem of my port wine glass between two fingers, rotating the base over the table. “What does one wear to one’s own funeral ball?” I mused.

  Father gulped down his port and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Crispin. Marriage isn’t the end of everything. You will still be free to diddle whomever you please, and you will have secured your fortune.”

  “Well, I certainly feel better now.” I didn’t mask the disdain from my voice.

  Father sat up straight. “The Peppercuffs want our title as much as we want their wealth. It is an even exchange. There’s no call for your indignation.” He rubbed his thumb along his jawline, considering me across the table. “The Peppercuffs are getting a good bargain. I doubt Pervinca is a virgin. You should ask her whether or not she’s untouched.”

  “Should I ask her this before or after I propose?” I laughed humorlessly. I didn’t care if Pervinca had fucked half the gentry. I didn’t care about her at all. Nor did I want to end up like my parents. Unlike Father, I valued my sense of honor. “May I be excused?” I asked coolly.

  With Father’s answering nod, I stood and stormed out of the dining room.

  I thought of wearing black to the ball, to match my mood, before deciding it would be a crime not to wear the gorgeous tailored suit I’d commissioned months before the masquerade. The breeches and jacket were a deep red wool, while the inside of the coattails were black to match the pinstriped vest with satin buttons. The red-and-white fox mask was a work of art. I’d been counting down the days before I got to slip it over my face for the evening. I loved masquerades more than any other kind of ball. In an odd way, I felt like I was coming to the party as myself rather than hiding. My face was the real mask. The fox represented the side of me who wanted to come out and play.

  Even a caged animal deserved to be let out, if only for a night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lark

  Uncle Liri joined Aunt Sarfina, Folas, and me outside Dahlquist’s throne room to see us off the evening of the Ashcraw ball. My uncle had arranged for us to portal directly into the estate at Folas’s insistence—all part of his plan to “keep Prince Lark safe.” Aunt Sarfina was all for skipping a full day of travel, anyway, and no one in the kingdom would deny the king’s request, whether he had a reason for it or not.

  Face covered with a blue-and-black-feathered mask and tight black dress showcasing long, slender legs, my aunt looked stunning, as usual. “The count and countess are throwing another masquerade, how unoriginal.” Aunt Sarfina yawned.

  “Ralphio knows you are not to be outdone and clearly gave up trying.” Uncle Liri smirked.

  Aunt Sarfina tutted, but her lips formed a smug smile—one I shared.

  I was eager to make our appearance. My aunt and I looked smashing in our coordinated blue-and-black evening attire. A beautiful black waistcoat clung to my chest before draping over my thighs. Silver embroidery trailed the edges. It opened slightly beneath my neck, showing a glimpse of my bare chest. A thin blue scarf draped over my shoulders, ending in black velvet daggered edges. I wore black pants over combat boots. Topping it all off was my black mask, which spread and stretched above my temples like raven wings.

  Only Folas looked out of place. He wore his standard gray tunic and the most boring silver mask in existence. It didn’t contain a single rhinestone or feather attached to the bland surface. I supposed the blade secured at his hip was all the adornment he cared about.

  Aunt Sarfina fingered the black crystal hanging from a choker around her neck. “Well, I suppose we could be considered fashionably late at this hour.”

  Folas took that as his cue to open a portal.

  “Such a shame you have to stay behind,” Aunt Sarfina said to her brother.

  “I’m certain my queen and I will find ways to entertain ourselves.” Uncle Liri’s suggestive tone garnered a scowl from his sister.

  Shaking my head, I followed Aunt Sarfina through the portal. I’d never understand her hang-up with humans. Her sister, my aunt Jastra, loved men so much she hardly spent time in Faerie. To each their own. I wasn’t one to judge. Why in all the worlds did I have to be attracted to Crispin Maglen? One of life’s cruel jokes, I supposed. One I kept walking right back into.

  Count Ralphio sat drinking from a crystal glass inside his parlor where we emerged. He set his drink on a small table beside him and stood. “Welcome,” he said, his greeting directed at Aunt Sarfina.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting for us this entire time.” She toyed with the crystal at her throat, drawing Ralphio’s eyes to her plunging neckline.

  “Your arrival always brings me pleasure, Sarfina.” Eager brown eyes shone as he took her in.

  Adults could be so
lame with their flirting and philandering. Thank goodness my parents weren’t that way. Then again, maybe they’d set me up for misery. I wanted what my mom and dads had. I wanted the kind of lasting and loyal love Aunt Aerith and Uncle Jhaeros shared. Even Uncle Liri and Aunt Hensley were devoted to one another despite the challenges they faced.

  I looked at Folas. It was difficult to tell behind his mask, but his slouched stance conveyed boredom. As I headed out of the parlor, my giant blond shadow followed in my footsteps.

  Aunt Sarfina and the count didn’t come out after us.

  This wasn’t my first visit to the Ashcraw estate. I escorted myself down the rug-lined hall toward the ballroom. There were no guards in the corridors, and the sconces were spread far apart, leaving shadowed gaps along the walls. Folas’s presence was like a heavy winter cloak pulling at my shoulders. I turned and faced him.

  “Seriously, Folas. You’re cramping my style. Can you just hang out and enjoy the party . . . and let me do the same?”

  “Your father is counting on me to watch out for you.” Folas frowned beneath the silver mask.

  “What if I want a bit of private time with one of the guests?”

  Folas folded his arms. “I would advise against leaving the crowd.”

  “That didn’t stop that male from throwing a harpoon at me in Dahlquist.”

  Folas’s frown deepened. We stared one another down through the eyeholes of our masks. Sighing heavily, Folas made a grunt of consent. “I’ll consider it. Give me a signal if you decide to engage in a tryst.”

  “A signal? Really?” I rolled my eyes behind my mask. “Can’t you read body language, Folas?” When he didn’t answer, I laughed. “Fine. What kind of gesture did you have in mind? This?” I fisted one hand and moved it back and forth.

  I wasn’t sure how Folas would react. I wasn’t expecting a smile to twitch over his lips like he was holding back a laugh.