Free The Decoy Princess by Dawn Cook Page A

was a fool.
    I continued arranging my hair, finding only four needles from yesterday were still good. The last had chipped and gone dry. I threw it into my sitting room fire, nudging the remnants of my nightgown stained with my mother’s blood into the flames. I had tried to wash, but with only a small pitcher of water, I still had a tacky residue on my hands and legs. I refused to look at my trembling fingers, knowing ugly black stains still lingered in the cracks of my skin.
    Jaw gritted to seal away my grief, I closed my empty jewelry box. Garrett’s guards had looted my room, finding not only my jewelry but also my bullwhip, the knife under my pillow, the handful of unadorned darts I used for practice, and the rope I used to sneak out my window when the moon was full and I wanted to walk in the garden.
    I stood before the fire and fingered my dart pipe, wondering if it might be recognized as a weapon and lead to my hairpins being confiscated as well. Unwilling to chance it, I snapped the wooden tube in half and threw it into the fire. I’d have to get close enough to scratch Garrett. I didn’t think it would be a problem. I was sure he would be here soon—gloating.
    An unexpected pain prompted me to close my eyes. They weren’t my real parents , I told myself.
    They used me, bought me in the village like a horse or dog. But even as I thought it, I knew whether bought or born, I had been their child. And they had loved me.
    My throat closed in on itself, and I forced myself to breathe. Garrett had killed them. Tonight, I would return the favor, sending Garrett’s body back to his father with my regrets, blaming it upon the assassins who plagued us. Kavenlow might suspect what had really happened, but I didn’t care. The tears pricked, seducing a headache into existence as I refused to cry. I had thought Kavenlow loved me. It was all a lie.
    Everything.
    My threatened tears vanished at the sound of a key in my lock. I spun, frightened, as Jeck strode in unannounced. Past him in the torchlit hallway were two sentries. He tucked the key into an inner pocket.
    “Your Highness,” the imposing, square-shouldered man drawled, and my heart pounded.
    “Knock before you come into my rooms,” I demanded as I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. “I may be a prisoner in my own palace, but I’m still the princess.” I took a false strength in that he would have to treat me as such even though he knew the truth.
    “My mistake,” he said and smiled. It looked like an honest reaction, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. His gaudy hat with the excessive drooping feathers was missing, and I thought he looked better without it. “Prince Garrett has requested your presence for dinner,” he continued, standing with his hands behind his back at parade rest. “I’ll carry you if you refuse. You may want to walk, though. He’s undoubtedly going to propose, and you’ll want to look your best.” He hesitated, his brow furrowing.
    “Don’t you have anything nicer than that to wear?” he asked.
    My mouth dropped open—part anger, part embarrassment. “Perhaps if the Misdev dog gave me my court, I could manage a decent appearance,” I said stiffly. “Tell him if he wants a proper princess, he will have to supply me with the trappings. He should check with his guards first, seeing as they stole my jewelry.”
    A smile quirked the corners of Jeck’s mouth, then was gone. “Prince Garrett has your baubles,” he said. “Tell him yourself.”
    He reached for my shoulder, and I jerked back. Annoyed, he reached out again, gripping my shoulder with a painful strength through his soft leather gloves. My affront that he dared touch me warred with common sense, and I did nothing as he turned so the guards in the hallway couldn’t see his face. “I also found a knife under your pillow, darts, a whip, and enough rope to tie down a bull,” he murmured, a blatant question in his soft voice and brown eyes. They were the