Amaskan's Blood, Raven Oak [read me a book .TXT] 📗

knife—” A small laugh tried to escape her lips, and she bit her tongue to stop it. “I shouldn’t laugh. My apologies, Your Highness.”

“Father, I truly thought you were in danger. I don’t see what is funny about that at all. Besides, I did what she said. It’s a weapon.”

The truth of it sucked the humor out of the situation, and Adelei sighed. “You’re right, Your Highness. All of us are in great danger, which is not funny in the least. But my directions told you to run, not come defend the King.”

“I was speaking to my father,” Margaret snapped.

When his fist crumpled the paper beside him, he tossed the ball into the lit fireplace where it crackled and burned. “Enough,” he said. “Margaret, your disdain for Master Adelei has been noted, but it doesn’t change the fact that she is here to protect you, to protect us all. If you will not do your part as princess and help by following orders, then how do I know you are ready to rule this country? What future as Queen do you have if all you focus on is yourself?”

From the look on her face, I’d say that’s possibly the first time he’s ever raised his voice to her. Her Highness’s lips curled down, teeth visible from the grimace that painted her face an ugly shade of confusion, and then shock as she realized he meant it.

“Too bad, Father,” Margaret said in a spur of inspiration. “I’m all you’ve got. And once I’m married, the law will be on my side.”

Leon’s eyes met Adelei’s, anger and sorrow mixing the brown into muddy waters that threatened to spill their banks. “I think it may be time that Margaret knew.”

“Knew what?” asked Margaret.

“This isn’t a good idea, Sire. Knowledge is power. And this could endanger her more.”

“But she refuses to listen to you. If she knew—”

“Knew what?” asked Margaret.

“It’s not a good idea,” Adelei said. “Trust me on this.”

King Leon held up his hand in protest, and Margaret stood, her hands on her hips. “Know what?” she shouted. Her face reminded Adelei of a berry, flushed red and purple as she stomped her foot.

“Margaret. Poppet. Master Adelei is your sister.”

Silence followed the announcement, until Margaret tore her eyes away from her father long enough to study Adelei’s face. “She cannot be. My sister is dead.”

Adelei knelt in front of her, her face before Margaret’s, and removed her head scarf. She used it to wipe away the makeup that hid her looks behind false wrinkles and almond-shaped eyes. “Look at me closely. I’m not dead.”

Margaret’s irises shrank as they moved across Adelei’s face. “It’s not possible. How—why—when—” she sputtered.

“That’s not a story I wish to repeat. You tell her how it happened,” answered Adelei. Anger seeped into her. Always there. I don’t know where my loyalties lie anymore. “By your leave?” she asked and bowed to King Leon. He nodded , and she secured the scarf before fleeing the room.

Her feet took her past her own rooms and down corridors and stairs until she found the stables. A familiar nicker greeted her. Midnight stood in his stall happily munching oats, and she ran a hand across his neck.

Master. Father. Why did you send me into such a situation? You had to know this would end up this way. You had to know this would tear me to pieces. She refused to give in to tears again. Midnight nosed her, nickering softly. Do I protect the sister who hates me for a father who played me, or do I return to the father who kidnapped me and stole me away from a chance of knowing this family of mine?

Adelei kicked at the straw below. I don’t know. I thought I knew what I was doing, coming here, but I don’t. And I get the feeling, Master Bredych, that you didn’t either.

The crunching of twigs under the boot heel of another caught her ear, and she froze. Behind me. She pressed her palm against Midnight’s neck. He responded to the touch and the tension in her body by shifting in the stall. Once he was in a better position to kick, he quieted. Adelei stepped right, out of his way, and watched him.

When the scuffing of a boot toe sounded, it was closer than before, and she leaned against the stall’s wall, dagger in hand. One foot at a time, she slid closer to the door until another footfall sounded.

A gloved hand reached over the stall, feeling for the latch. The person gently pushed the door open. Adelei held her breath, eyes moving between the hand and the ground where a booted foot stepped just left of one of Midnight’s droppings. When the figure entered, Adelei didn’t waste any time. She ducked.

Midnight flung both rear hooves into the chest of her assailant. The kick hurled him through the swinging door and across the stable, where he slammed into the frame of another stall. Horses nickered loudly at the disruption, and Adelei rushed to his side.

The heart beat faintly beneath his flesh, but he remained unconscious as her deft, gloved fingers rifled through his clothing. While his pockets were empty, hidden at his wrist was a small piece of parchment bearing a sketch of her likeness. “Damn,” she whispered. “What do you want to bet he’s Tribor?”

Her horse whinnied in reply from his stall. He would alert her to the presence of others as she continued searching the body. This time when she found the tattoo, it was worn and faded, marking him an older member despite his baby face. The man, dressed in black, carried a small knife but nothing else.

Her mind pictured Princess Margaret, and she winced. Knowledge was power, even if the assassin had come ill-prepared.

The man moaned, and she tugged him into a sitting position by his muddy shirt. Adelei slid his knife into a pocket of her own and crouched down beside him. She was confident in her ability to