Morwen is able to procure a riding habit from Ethel's piles of trunks. It's a relief to be wearing pants again, but it was my soft leather boots that I missed most of all. Finally, I feel steady on the ground as I walk.
Before I leave, I braid my hair and examine my reflection in the mirror. Both the jacket and pants of Ethel's riding habit are thankfully simple. Forest green, with a single black stripe down the jacket arms and pant legs. The white shirt that goes underneath is unnecessarily ruffled in the front, but at least it isn't cumbersome. I'm not sure how easy it will be to flirt with a man like the Silver Prince in an outfit as modest as this one, but I'll have to try. This opportunity may be my only chance to learn more about him.
I have to pass through Ethel's room to leave. She's awake, sitting up in bed and drinking her morning tea.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
She was sound asleep when I came back last night, so I didn't have a chance to tell her my plans for this morning.
"The prince asked me to go riding with him."
Ethel coughs, choking on her tea. Morwen pats her on the back until her coughing fades.
"Be careful," the duchess warns me. "He may try to seduce you."
"He's the one who should be careful," I tell her.
"That's the spirit." She smiles, wickedly.
I hurry downstairs and ask a servant to point me in the direction of the stables. It's at the edge of the castle grounds, and as I walk across the grassy field that stretches to the left of the castle, I take several deep breaths of the fresh morning air to steady my nerves.
There's nothing to fear. I'm in charge. And, after today, the Silver Prince's shadow will be as good as mine.
But the moment I reach the stables, my hopes are dashed. The prince is watching a groom saddle his horse, surrounded by four guards. He turns to me with a languid smile.
"Good morning, Lady Nyx."
I curtsey. "Your Highness."
"There's no need for formalities out here," he says. "You look ridiculous curtseying in a pair of pants."
My hatred for him grows several sizes. "Which one am I to ride?"
"Choose," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "It makes no difference."
I walk around the stable, wrinkling my nose at the unpleasant combination of sweat, hay, and excrement. The horses stamp their feet and toss their heads, showing off their beautiful, glossy coats. Knowing nothing about horses, I choose the one that seems most eager to have a rider: a dappled grey animal that's almost trotting in place with its impatience.
"This one," I say.
A sly grin curls the Silver Prince's mouth. "Really?"
I nod, though his reaction unsettles me. Have I chosen incorrectly? Was this some sort of test?
He snaps his fingers at another groom. "Prepare that horse for Lady Nyx."
Once the horse is ready, the groom hands me the reins. I follow the Silver Prince outside, struggling to keep my grip on the reins as my horse tosses its head wildly. I'm beginning to regret agreeing to this, but there's no chance of turning back now.
Glancing over his shoulder, the prince looks at me with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "They call that one Burr."
"A strange name," I remark. "What do you call yours?"
"Hector." He mounts his black steed with ease and waits for me to do the same.
The prince moved so quickly that I was unable to see how he did it. I glance over my shoulder at his guards, hoping to watch them mount, but they're already in their saddles. Clumsily, I shove a foot into the stirrup and pull myself up, dragging my other leg over the horse's back. I grip the reins and attempt to balance in the seat. Burr won't stop stamping, and I pray to the gods that this ride won't last long.
The Silver Prince kicks his horse into action, taking off at a rapid gallop. With a thunder of hooves striking the grass, his guards follow. I spur my own horse forward and it takes off erratically, quickly passing the guards and catching up to the prince himself. I tug on the reins before I overtake him, and our horses keep pace with one another.
The wind rushes against my face as we move impossibly fast. I wish I could run like this on my own; it would make my job much easier. I could afford to be slightly more careless, since I would be able to outrun any person who tried to catch me.
We gallop into the woods, which seem to stretch on before us endlessly. The lush green trees crowd so close together that we're forced to ride single file. I follow the prince, clutching my reins in both white-knuckled hands. He urges his horse faster and faster, and mine follows without prompting, keeping up with him easily.
As the Silver Prince weaves through the trees, taking jagged turns that almost make a zigzagging pattern, his guards shout at him to slow down and take a simpler path. But the prince only laughs wildly in response and continues his haphazard ride.
He's trying to lose them. For a moment, I consider slowing down to keep pace with the guards instead, but then I realize that this is the best thing the prince could have done. My goal was to get him alone, and I thought that my chances of that had vanished the moment I saw that his guards were with him. Now, the prince has presented me with the exact opportunity that I initially wanted.
It's odd, how he's playing right into my hands. Almost intentional. But that's impossibleâthere's no way he's figured out who I am and what I'm here for. He's not clever enough for that.
The Silver Prince doesn't stop until he reaches a small clearing. A bright, gurgling stream passes through it, its shimmering blue water bright in the sun. I pull on my reins to halt Burr, and she reluctantly obeys the signal.
The prince and I stare at each other, neither of us breaking the tense silence that suddenly fills the air between us. His white hair is almost transparent in the sunlight, his peculiar eyes blazing from underneath lowered brows. How peculiarâhis brows are black, a stark contrast to the paleness of his hair. I wonder what sort of unnatural circumstances occurred in the womb for him to emerge like this. Still, it's impossible to deny his allure, though I'm not sure if it's his beauty that I find appealing or the confidence of his manner. He is a prince, through and through. He's been taught to be this way, raised to have a commanding presence. Even without speaking, it is unquestionable who has the high ground.
At least, that's how he has made this interaction feel. The truth of the matter is a different story entirely. I can feel the knives I've tucked into my sleeves pressing against my forearms. The presence of the ones in my boots is equally palpable. I have not lost control yet. No sword hangs at the prince's side, and I doubt he even feels threatened enough to conceal his weapons. If he were to try anything, I would surely gain the upper hand.
It's the Silver Prince who speaks first. "I have never found the duchess to be a very generous woman. She is rather self-serving, in my opinion."
What is he getting at? "She is rather fond of herself, but has never been unkind to me."
The horses grow restless from standing still. They begin to walk, and the prince and I circle one another, neither of us paying much attention to our mounts.
"She hardly cared for her own husband," he says. "I think it strange that she would take in his brother's common daughter."
"It was an unexpected surprise."
"Then you are very fortunate."
"Yes, I believe I am." My heart has leapt into my throat, and I can feel it pulsing. I have been in perilous situations before, but none of them have ever felt like this. Usually, I am able to stay calm and keep a level head, but it's different when the Silver Prince is my adversary. I wonder if this is because of his authority, if my body itself is aware that he could order my death if he were to find out who I am. While I have dealt with nobles in the past, none have been as powerful as this one.
"Why, Lady Nyx, are you frightened of me?"
When he smiles, I realize that he's dangerous. It's an expression rife with fierce devilment, and I now know that it would be foolish to underestimate him. He's more discerning than he seems. Though we only met two days ago, he already seems to understand me on a deeper level than most.
No one can tell when I'm afraid. Except, apparently, him.
"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend, and it makes his smile widen.
"What made you decide to accompany her to Durnwall?" he asks. "It's a long journey, and I know that you aren't interested in marriage, nor my birthday."
"You've misjudged me. I am singularly interested in marriage, and I found your birthday celebration splendid."
"You're a good liar. I can tell that you're well-practiced."
I am not easily ruffled, but I once again find myself flustered by him. It's strange; I'm sure that I could handle this accusation, had it come from anyone else. But since it's the Silver Prince, it seems that all my typical rules have been undone.
Well, two can play at that game.
"And you must be rather witless if you believe that you can tell when I'm lying."
His smile flickers, and I know that my composure has thrown him off. "I'm not often mistaken."
"Perhaps you should get more accustomed to it, then."
His eyes widen, but he doesn't have the chance to say anything more. All at once, his guards crash into the clearing. Once they see the prince, they begin shouting. Burr startles at the sudden onslaught of noise, and rears on her hind legs. I am instantly unseated, and fall hard to the ground. With the wind knocked from my lungs, I lie where I am for a moment before I see the Silver Prince's pale face leaning over me.
He's close, as close as he was when we danced. Once again, I can smell wine on his breath. Does he really drink so often? I don't drink much alcohol, and never more than a glass at a time. I can't stand the feeling of losing control of myselfâthat strange, ungrounded feeling.
"You should've chosen a different horse," he says, extending a hand to help me up.
Indignantly, I push his hand away and struggle to my feet unaided. "You should've warned me." So that was what his mischievous smile had meant.
"There's no need to be embarrassed."
"I'm not embarrassed."
"Then why are you blushing?" He smirks and tucks a traitorous strand of stray hair behind my ear.
My face grows ever warmer thanks to the match-flame of his touch.
"Your Highness," one of the guards says in a stern tone. "We need to return to the castle. Your father will be very displeased to hear of your conduct this morning."
Goodâthen this disastrous ride can come to a blessed end. I wish I could leave the prince's company for good, but I am no closer to uncovering even the least of his fears. Maybe it would be easier to stalk him, to observe him from afar as I do with most of my targets. I hope I can get away with avoiding him; I'm not sure if I can stand to be in his presence for more than ten minutes.
The prince sighs impatiently. "I know, Ingram. Wait a moment." To me, he says, "I think you should ride Hector home. I'll take Burr."
"Fine by me." I drag myself into his horse's saddle. The Silver Prince mounts Burr with ease, then turns her in what I assume is the direction of the castle.
The ride back is much smoother. Hector gives me no trouble, and Burr seems peaceful under the prince's guidance. Having to acknowledge his skill with the animal vexes me. I'm sure he's been riding since he was very young, but I find it infuriating that I couldn't control Burr as well as him. And he was cruel enough not to warn me about the difficulty of the animal. I wonder if it was all a game to him, a callous joke at my expense.
The Silver Prince is no longer allowed to head the party. Two of his guards ride in front of him, and two behind me. They all stay uncomfortably close to us, doubtless worried about their charge giving them the slip again.
When we reach the castle, I slide off of the horse, pass the reins to a groomsman, and say goodbye to the prince.
"Thank you for a lovely morning," I say, giving him a sardonic curtsey. I exaggerate it as much as I can, making the motion as ridiculous as possible.
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he returns. He twists Burr's reins around his hand and begins to lead her deeper into the stables.
A strange impulse takes over me and I grab the Silver Prince's arm, mimicking the way he grabbed me last night. Only, my touch is not so light: I grip him as I would grip the hilt of a knife.
He turns around, brows raised in surprise. "Yes?"
"You're remarkably good with that horse."
"It is truly confounding that I am better than a farm girl. You even had difficulty managing Hector."
I blush, unwittingly. Nothing seems to escape the Silver Prince's notice. "Your horses are unique," is the weak excuse I give before releasing him.
I stride back to the castle and hurry to the duchess's room. She's gone, but Morwen is there, rearranging the duchess's massive collection of hair ribbons.
"How was your ride?" she asks.
All of a sudden, I feel exhausted. I collapse into an armchair and yank off my boots. "Worse than I expected in some ways, and better in others."
"The prince has certainly taken a liking to you."
I frown. "I doubt that. It seems that his express intention was to humiliate me by allowing me to ride a wild horse. And then he aired doubts at my place with the duchess."
Lowering her voice, Morwen says, "His doubt is well-earned, though."
Morwen is a very unassuming person. She's exactly as nobles like their servants to beâquiet and easily ignored. In her position, I'm sure she's heard many of the duchess's private conversations, and knows more intimate details about her life than anyone else. If the prince has an equivalent manservant, I should try to find him and question him. That method worked on an earl whose shadow I stole.
"Is there a way to make myself more convincing?" I ask innocuously. "Neither the duchess nor I can afford to be found out."
A great fortune for the duchess hangs in the balance. So does my lifeâif the prince finds out who I am and what I intend to do to him, I'm sure I'll be put to death. Morwen and I both know that the duchess cares far more about her riches than my well-being, so I do have to frame my requirement for knowledge as benefitting Ethel.
"I don't think so," says Morwen. "But it might benefit you to understand her relationship with her husband and his brother, in case anyone asks."
I lean forward, interested. "Do you know much about that?"
Morwen puts the ribbons down, giving me her full attention. "Her husband had no title, being Lord Bennett of Argencourt's third and youngest son, but had amassed a great amount of wealth from the coal mines he owned. He died of a heart attack fifteen years ago, after they had barely been married for four. It wasn't a loveless marriage, exactly, but an apathetic oneâat least on the duchess's part. I know that the Duke of Vaelune adored her. His oldest brother, Bramâthe one whose daughter you're pretending to beâfell in love with a milkmaid he met while traveling the countryside. Lord Bennett didn't approve of the marriage, so the Duke of Vaelune's brother lost his inheritance. It went to the second son instead."
"And what did she think of Bram?" I prompt when Morwen pauses.
"She thought he was foolish for relinquishing his inheritance over a woman. She was also bitter, I believe, because her husband had another brother and thus did not become Lord Bennett's heir. However, she did attend Bram and his wife's funeral in full mourning attire. They died of the plague five years ago."
Morwen looks about my age, so she couldn't have been aware of most of this story as it happened.
"How do you know all this?" I ask.
"My mother has worked in Her Grace's household for more than twenty years."
"And why would the duchess have been next in line for the throne, if not for the prince?"
Morwen glances at the door, as though worried that Ethel could walk in at any moment and find us discussing the more personal details of her private life. "She's his only cousin, and he has no surviving siblings."
The duchess's story occupies my mind for the rest of the day. I'm distracted all through supper, wondering how miserable it must be to have such a one-sided marriage. My parents might not have been rich, but at least they loved each other. Sometimes, it almost hurts how much I miss them.
The Silver Prince is notably absent. He must have decided to take his meal in his room, but considering how much he seemed to enjoy flirting with the noblewomen yesterday, I don't really believe that he missed this less-formal gathering because he wanted to keep to himself. There must be another reason. When I ask the duchess where he is, she only sniffs and asks, "Does it matter? He's not here."
After supper, a lutist plays for those who wish to stay and listen. Ethel leaves early, as is her custom, but I linger, losing myself in the music. It reminds me of the musicians who sometimes play on the streets of Durnwall, and I find myself missing the simplicity of life outside the castle walls. While it's far from easy, at least I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not, trapped in a place that I despise.
But I don't truly despise every part of this assignment. The worst part is, I could see myself growing accustomed to lavish meals every night, sweetmeats whenever I want them, and being wealthy enough to not worry about whether I'll be able to pay for my room that month. It's a frightening feeling, to acknowledge the fact that I could grow just as complacent as these loathsome nobles.
And I've only been here for three days.