Free The Decoy Princess by Dawn Cook Page B

color of earth in the candlelight, with flecks of gold. “It’s unusual for a princess to know the art of defense,” he breathed, sending a loose strand of my hair to tickle my neck.
    “But I’m not a princess, now, am I?” I whispered, my heart pounding as I shrugged out of his grip.
    “So I’ve been told.” A wary tone had darkened his voice, and he rested his hand upon the butt of his sword as he gave me a visual once-over. “Out,” he demanded.
    I draped the same black scarf that he had used to tie my hands with earlier over my shoulders like a shawl of grief, blew out my candle, and went before him. The way was darker than usual, with only every other lamp lit. We passed no one as Jeck and two sentries escorted me through the silent passages, and it felt cold. I walked beside Jeck, wondering why he asked the two sentries to slow when it was obvious I was having trouble keeping to their pace. He knew I wasn’t the princess. Why did he bother with any kindness?
    I was getting the distinct impression that Jeck didn’t care if Garrett succeeded in his plans to take my mother’s lands or not. It seemed as if Jeck was waiting, riding the waves until he knew which way the wind was going to shift. Waiting for Garrett to make a mistake ?
    My mind whirled as we passed from the corridor into the formal banquet hall. It echoed with a high blackness, but a warm yellow light spilled into the spacious room from the small dining room between it and the kitchen. Jeck took my elbow, his grip tightening when I tried to pull away. “Stop touching me,” I demanded, and my face burned when he outright ignored me.
    We entered to find the room empty but for the long table. There were only two chairs—one at either end instead of the usual three clustered in the middle—and a wave of grief almost buckled my knees.
    With more grace than I would’ve credited him, Jeck guided me to a chair and made me sit before the elaborate place setting. I was too upset to be amused that I didn’t have a table knife. And sitting with my back to the archway to the kitchen instead of the hearth made me uneasy.
    “I’ll stay,” Jeck said to the guards who had accompanied us. He shifted a step away from me and fell into a parade rest. “I want Olen as Prince Garrett’s escort, then you’re relieved.”
    The two sentries left the way we had come. Looking over the familiar room, a pang of heartsickness settled heavy in my middle. This was where I had eaten most of my meals with my parents. The room had no windows but was bright with oil lamps. Sitting between the kitchen and the large banquet hall, it served as a staging area for food on the occasions we had a large function. There was a fireplace we used in the winter. Right now the ugly black hole of the empty hearth was hidden behind one of the ceiling-to-floor tapestries that softened the room.
    Jeck stood with a relaxed tautness, his well-honed body held still while thoughts unknown occupied him. I watched his square jaw alternately tense and relax, and I wondered if he would leave when Garrett came so I could kill the Misdev cur with no interference. “Are you the captain of Garrett’s guard?” I asked suddenly.
    Jeck shifted, seeming surprised that I had broken my silence. “I act in that position.”
    “What else do you do?” I persisted, hearing the lack of completeness in his words.
    “Keep him alive when he does something foolish,” he muttered.
    Nodding, I shifted my empty wineglass to the proper side of my plate. He was charged with Garrett’s safety just as Kavenlow had been charged with mine. Garrett had said he was acting without the blessing of his father. Perhaps Jeck might be open to working against Garrett’s interests in order to maintain his king’s? Starting a war with your neighbor is not undertaken lightly, and embarrassing if your son does it without your knowledge.
    “Jeck,” I said, hesitating as I fumbled for the proper term of respect. “Captain,”