Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) (27 page)

“You cornered him and gave him two options: die or serve you. He chose the latter, but then you let him slip away. Don’t tell me you think he’ll come back. You are a fool.”

It was the archmagician’s turn to laugh. “He will return, your Highness. He will willingly serve me as captain of your personal guard for the same reason he risked his neck to come here to the City and find a magician powerful enough to heal you after the assassination attempt.”

Mariel was at a loss for words. She could not comprehend James’s motives and it irritated her that Dreyfuss seemed to so easily. However, she was not convinced that James would return.

“Now, get back to your suite where you are safe.”

“No.”

“Move. Now.”

“I won’t follow your orders.”

“You want to die?”

“I’m not going back until I’m good and ready.”

“Mariel,” Tristan broke into their argument. “Or, your Highness, or whoever you are. I think you should listen to the archmagician.”

Dreyfuss smiled evilly. “See, even your spy agrees with me.”

“Traitor,” Mariel hissed to Tristan.

The large man looked uncomfortable, but he shrugged. “The man has a good point. He’s only looking after your safety.”

“He’s looking after his own reputation. The king packed me off to a remote finishing school to be broken like a green horse where no one could see me. I’m still not obedient, yet here I am where hundreds of people can see.”

“I can use magic to drag you back to your suite,” Dreyfuss threatened.

“You wouldn’t dare, not with so many witnesses.”

“You will return to your rooms, Highness!”

The archmagician towered over her. His hand shot out and latched onto her left arm with the iron grip he had used to drag her through the corridors at the royal palace in Fintel. Unintentionally, he gripped the healing area where the monster had bitten out a chunk of her flesh.

Mariel’s vision went red. She was vaguely aware that someone screamed loudly, and it was a moment before she realized it was her. But she did not care. Agony swept through her arm as violent tears streamed down her cheeks. Someone touched her cheek and she felt a spark of evraïsér, but before the magic could enter her system she recoiled in fear, backing into the fence.

Her arm jarred painfully as she impacted with the wood. The world tilted and went dark as she fainted.

* * *

A cold compress covered her face. She ripped it off and tried to sit up, but when dizziness overcame her, she thought better of it. The sleeve of the peasant blouse had been pushed up to the shoulder and another cool cloth concealed the ugly red scar where she had been bitten.

“She’s awake!”

Cara squeezed Mariel’s right hand which she had been holding. Her copper colored hair hung loosely and her finishing school uniform was slightly tweaked, revealing that she had dressed in a hurry. Her open, friendly face was like a balm to a bad burn after Mariel’s discord with Lizzie.

“I can see that.”

In contrast to Cara, High Priestess sat in a hard wooden chair beside the massive bed in the royal suite. She held her back board straight, with her long, thin hands folded delicately in her lap. Her lips were pressed into a familiar frown, but Mariel detected relief in the dour woman’s eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Cara asked.

How did she feel? Mariel’s arm throbbed, although the pain was manageable. She felt worn out again, depressed that she was not strong anymore, furious that Dreyfuss had beaten her simply by touching her, and humiliated that others had witnessed her weakness. She could not tell Cara any of that, so when another complaint became evident, she chose that one: “Hungry.”

Bad choice. Now she thought about the fiasco with Lizzie that the entire kitchen staff had witnessed.

High Priestess, unaware of what had happened in the kitchen, stood gracefully. “I shall go fetch a servant to bring you a tray of food.”

“I’m surprised they allowed you in here,” Mariel said to Cara, hoping to turn the topic of conversation away from her. 

Cara pulled away from Mariel. She plucked nervously at a loose thread on her gown and glanced over her shoulder.

Mariel followed her friend’s gaze to where a hulking man in an orange tunic sat squished in an armchair in the corner, looking as though he had no idea how he had gotten there. Smiling at the stunned look on Tristan’s face, she returned her gaze to Cara, who was always nervous when a man was present.

“Don’t worry. Tristan is a friend of mine.” When Cara shot another nervous glance in the large guard’s direction, Mariel added, “Like James.”

Cara did not look relieved and Mariel reminded herself that it had taken the meek girl a long time to become comfortable with the serpentramel.

“I’m like James who?” Tristan asked, focusing on Mariel for the first time rather than gaping at the room.

Cara paled when the large man spoke, and Mariel hoped Tristan would stay sitting on the opposite side of the room.

“I didn’t say you were
like
him, I said that you were also
my friend
like James . . .” Mariel paused and glanced at Cara. She was not sure how much her young friend knew about who she had been before becoming princess and who James really was. She also was not sure she wanted to admit to Tristan that she was friends with the infamous Snaketongue. With James’s reputation, Tristan might get the wrong idea.

“Alecsson,” Mariel finished, remembering that was the name he had used when he introduced himself to Cara and the name he had given to Dreyfuss. It struck her that Alecsson might actually be James’s true surname. Snaketongue was a name he had been given by others, just like Quickwit had been given to her, and Brightsword to her papa.

“Is this Alecsson another noble?” Tristan looked pointedly at Cara who ducked her head and returned to plucking at the stray thread of her gown.

James, nobility? Mariel started laughing at the idea. Cara hid her face behind a curtain of hair, so Mariel could not see her expression and Tristan just looked bewildered. Thinking about James turned Mariel back to thinking about why she needed to speak to him. She suddenly felt cold at the thought of the unknown assassin.

To distract herself, she introduced her two friends to each other. Cara greeted Tristan politely, but remained quiet and withdrawn. Mariel hopped off the bed and took stock of the situation. She still wore the peasant dress, but the apron and boots had been confiscated. That was not what she had wanted to find, since both had concealed most of her hidden weapons.

“Where are my knives?”

“The archmagician put them in the armoire.” Tristan pointed to the piece of furniture where Aracklin also lay hidden. “I’m surprised he let you keep them. A noblewoman who knows how to fight?” He snorted and shook his head. “It ain’t proper.”

“Archmagician wants to keep Mariel safe!” Cara cried, unexpectedly entering the conversation. “He knows she can defend herself with her weapons, so he let her keep them!”

Cara looked horrified that she had spoken so passionately to a very large man she barely knew. Blushing, she let her coppery hair conceal her face again.

Mariel raised an eyebrow in question, keeping her anger in check as she looked at Tristan. “Why do you think it is wrong for noblewomen to know how to defend themselves? And I’m not the only one who can fight off an attacker. Cara, have you been practicing this last month?”

Cara looked at Mariel with wide eyes and then at Tristan, shocked that her friend would reveal something like that. Mariel shrugged at Cara.

“Yes,” the meek girl choked out. “Every morning.”

Mariel bestowed a warm smile on her young friend before turning her fiery gaze on Tristan. “What’s the problem?”

Tristan swallowed hard, realizing his mistake. He shrugged his big shoulders. “You’ll put us guards out of work. What will we have to do if we don’t have any damsels in distress to rescue?”

“Nice save. Now, are either of you going to tell me why that red-headed fool let you come to my room?”

“After you, erm . . . fainted, the archmagician commanded me to carry you here. The priestess arrived with the noble girl not long after and the archmagician told me to stay here and make sure you didn’t try to run off again.”

Mariel laughed. “He left
you
to guard me? Perfect, I’ll just step out for a while and go find more of my contacts.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

Tristan looked uncomfortable. “Dieter Dreyfuss is the
archmagician
.”

“So?”

“He’s a powerful man. I’m not about to disobey him. I could get tossed to the streets, or worse. Not long before you woke up, I heard him yelling at the men who were supposed to be guarding you. He stripped them of their ranks and positions and has assigned them to latrine duty for the next year!”

Mariel could not believe she was hearing this. Dreyfuss had taken one of her friends—one of her contacts—and turned him against her. This was getting out of hand.

She glared her fiercest at Tristan, who at least had the decency to flinch and break eye contact. She knew she could easily beat him in a fight when she was in her prime condition. Unfortunately, she was still injured and recovering.

“And what are you doing here?” she barked at Cara more severely than she had intended.

Cara tried to shrink in her chair.

“Cara,” Mariel warned.

“I didn’t ask them to do it!” the shy girl blurted out, gazing pleadingly at Mariel for understanding.

“To do what?”

Cara hesitated and bit her lower lip. The truth burst out in a flood of words. “I don’t know why they made me one. My father is just a lord, not some powerful noble like Hallie’s and Isabel’s fathers. We don’t even have that much money. I never told you that, but I know you know because I was the only one you never stole from at school. Please, Mariel, you have to believe me when I tell you I didn’t ask them to do it!”     

Mariel’s anger faded, replaced by curiosity. “You need to be more specific than that.”

“They’ve made me one of your lady’s maids.” Cara clamped her hands to her mouth as though she had said a curse word.

The princess gaped. Cara had been chosen as one of her personal lady’s maids? It did not make sense for the same reasons Cara had given and the fact that Dreyfuss knew they were friends. Their Royal Majesties wanted to make Mariel obey them. They would never allow her to be surrounded by friends. But Dreyfuss let Mariel maintain her friends, she realized. He had forced the position of captain of the Princess’s Guards on James and he allowed Tristan to guard her now.

She remembered the day James had left, he had told Dreyfuss to make Cara one of her lady’s maids
because
Cara was her friend and she was learning to fight. Could it be that the archmagician, the man that hated outlaws, had actually taken the advice of James Snaketongue? The idea was preposterous. Yet, it was the only plausible explanation.

The archmagician needed Mariel to be princess to keep his precious kingdom from falling into civil war. He had saved her life by healing her after the assassination attempt because he needed her and was desperate enough to keep her safe by surrounding her with people who were friends to her and who would protect her, even if they were outlaws. The concept was mind boggling and a little too much for Mariel to face. Dreyfuss was protecting her, yet he loathed her and she hated him. How bizarre.

But Cara was her lady’s maid.

“This is great!” Mariel exclaimed.

Cara pulled her hands away from her face and gaped at Mariel.

“You’re glad to have a servant to wait on you hand and foot?” Tristan asked in disgust.

Mariel scowled and shot him a withering look that shut him up.

“I thought you would be mad,” Cara whispered, uncertain if this was one of Mariel’s games.

“Mad? Of course I’m not! I thought the king and queen would surround me with dainty idiots who would faun over me, hoping to gain power, and giggle over wealthy men. But you, Cara, you won’t do either of those things. When I sneak out, you won’t tell.”

“Hold up here a minute,” Tristan interjected. “Sneak out? There’s a powerful magician running loose who wants you dead and you’re talking about sneaking out? You’ll have to get through me first.” He folded his arms across his chest and tried to look menacing, which, Mariel had to admit, he actually succeeded at. “Besides, no one respects you as princess and running off whenever you like won’t improve your prospects.”

“I’m not trying to be a princess. I’m trying to be disowned.”

Before Tristan could continue the argument, Cara spoke, “So you’re happy that I’m your lady’s maid?”

“How else do you expect me to keep teaching you self-defense?”

Cara looked relieved. “I think Hallie might like to learn too.”

So Hallie had also been selected as a lady’s maid to the princess. She was an overweight daughter to a wealthy earl in good standing with the king. However, despite those negative elements, she was a nice girl who had envied Mariel’s rebellious nature and actions.