Free The Fire Prince (The Cursed Kingdoms Trilogy Book 2) by Emily Gee Page A

That’s all.”
    “He killed her?”
    “Thieves get killed. Don’t snivel, Jaumé. There’s nothing wrong with dying. We come, we go. She’s with the All-Mother.”
    “But...” Jaumé whispered. He saw the others mounting, and Odil, stocky Odil, with his hair as brown and curly as Da’s, leading the packhorses out to the road. Odil, who’d killed the old woman. “Shouldn’t we bury her?”
    “Let her lie. The wild dogs will find her, and the crows.” Bennick mounted. “Stay with her if you like. Or come with us.” He trotted his horse after the others.
    Jaumé mounted the pony and followed. He took his place beside Bennick. She wanted the pony so she could ride to the market. So she wouldn’t starve . But after a while he began to wonder if the woman had known she’d be caught. It might have been her way of—what? Going to the All-Mother? At least she wasn’t starving now.
    The blood from her throat reminded him of Mam.
    Mam lying in the kitchen, the floorboards red with her blood, the stink of blood in his nose, his feet slipping in blood as he ran.
    His mind took him back to the beginning. Da, with his mad face. Rosa’s scream. Mam. And running. Running for the safety of Girond, only to find it wasn’t safe any more. Howling laughter like dogs. Flames rising into the sky as the village burned. And always, the smell of Mam’s blood.
    Tears stung the inside of Jaumé’s nose, pricked his eyes. He forced them back.
    Whatever happened, these men must not see him cry.

 
     

    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
     
    K AREL WALKED FROM the training arena, wiping sweat from his face. He’d won each of his bouts. The last man he’d beaten jostled him as they went into the barracks, digging an elbow in his ribs, shoving him against the doorframe, but he was used to that now. He’d grown adept at collecting bruises without letting any emotion show on his face.
    He washed at the long row of stone sinks and then dressed in the scarlet tunic and golden breastplate, the wrist guards, the greaves.
    “Marten, Edvin, to the king’s audience chamber, now!”
    There was a moment of near-silence as the two armsmen slung on their swords and hurried out, and then a rising buzz of conversation.
    Karel buckled his sword belt slowly. He knew the two men. They were sworn to Prince Rutgar and Prince Lukas.
    What’s happening?
    In the mess hall, someone jostled him again as he turned away from the servers. He lost a slice of coarse bread from his plate.
    “Sorry,” the person said.
    Startled, Karel glanced at him. It was one of the armsmen from Lomaly. Only two generations from bondservice himself.
    Karel let his expression relax. He gave a nod.
    The armsman grabbed another slice of bread and put it on Karel’s plate. “A bit on edge today, you know?” he said as he followed Karel to a table and sat.
    “What’s happening?” Karel asked.
    “Haven’t you heard?”
    Karel shook his head.
    The armsman pulled a face. “The Heir-Ascendant is shuffling the cards in his favor.”
     
     
    B RITTA SAT IN front of the mirror. Her hair tugged at her scalp as Yasma wound strands around the crown and anchored them with a jeweled pin.
    She kept her head still, but glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of blue sky through the window. It was another sunny autumn day. The frost on the lawns would have melted by now.
    Restlessness boiled inside her. Britta clasped her hands in her lap. Another ten minutes and she could walk in the gardens. A long walk today, to the farthest guard tower and back. The guard tower Harkeld had escaped from.
    Her restlessness changed to anxiety. Where was Harkeld now? Was he even alive?
    The fifth bell rang. Noon.
    Britta tore her thoughts from Harkeld. “You wish to come walking today?” she asked Yasma.
    “Yes, please—”
    A knock sounded on the bedchamber door.
    Britta met Yasma’s eyes in the mirror.
    “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” she said, but her chest had tightened and the fear that