Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) (17 page)

“I’m not exactly sure,” Mariel said slowly, still not meeting his imploring gaze. “I don’t really trust anyone, at least not anyone human—besides Papa. I think it might be because when I was little I trusted in my grandparents. I knew I was a princess and no matter how many times my parents told me that they would not come, I always expected the king and queen to come sweep me off to the palace and make me a real princess.” She laughed bitterly. “And ironically they have. Only I don’t want what they have to offer anymore. When whatever happened that killed Mother and sent me away from my home at Remel happened, Papa went to ask them for their help in finding me. He risked his life and his career, since he was banned from the capital after the king discovered he fathered me. After Papa found me he told me that he knew I was alive. It might surprise you that he never told me how he knew that, or that I never asked, but I’ve never asked about the events surrounding my mother’s murder. All I know is that he is the one who found her.

“When he went to the capital, he asked the king to use a magician and perform a blood trace to find me. But the king refused, he and Dreyfuss decided that my death would solve the problem and the scandal of Mother’s illegitimate child would be soon forgotten.

“Papa nearly killed the king that day, he was so mad, but he left and although he had been extremely loyal to Their Majesties, he hated them after that and you know the story from there. He passed that loathing on to me when he found me two years later, and he taught me that power and wealth corrupts people.

“I suppose that might be enough to keep me from trusting the nobility, but you want to know why I can’t trust you. That, I think, might be the zreshlans’ fault. You know how much they hate humans. How, long ago, they tried to help humans and keep them from making their same mistakes and avoid suffering the same catastrophe that nearly wiped out the zreshlans, but the humans refused. I spent two entire years without a memory being filled up solely with zreshlan beliefs.”

“I’m not human though,” James pointed out. “I am serpentramel and zreshlans like and trust my people.”

Mariel looked up at him. “I know, but to me you are human. I grew up around the most powerful magicians in any of the lands. Their skills with evraïsér are remarkable. You should see Anoria’s illusions! Although I know better, I think of your shape-shifting skill as just a form of evraïsér. Talking with you like this makes me forget that you aren’t human because you look it.”

James nodded, his face was unreadable, but Mariel did not think he was angry.

“Before you leave, and I know you are late enough as it is, will you answer one more question?”

“Ask it, and then I’ll decide.”

James chuckled and shook his head then turned serious again. “Am I your friend?”

Mariel paused, weighing her answer. Her relationship with James was one that had always confused her. He had gotten her into trouble as much as he had helped her out of it. They used each other as sources of information and they both were allowed into the heart of Parloipae. Recently though, he had been much more to her than an informant or someone else under the age of fifty in Ambras Añue.

“Yes,” she said finally. “You are my friend.”

His face lit up in a brilliant smile.

“So long as you don’t try to kiss me!” she added. Looking at how high the sun was on the horizon, she ran toward the beech tree with a wave goodbye.                  

Cara tugged at a loose strand of hair as Mariel climbed into the room. Betti was livid, probably wondering what Mariel had been doing with James. Mariel would have found the young woman’s reaction amusing, but breakfast started in five minutes and she was covered in dust and sweat.

Together, Betti and Cara stripped Mariel down. She used a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from her body. She was dressed in a clean uniform almost as quickly as she had been undressed. They did not have time to pin up her hair, so Cara placed a veil over Mariel’s loose curls. High Priestess would not approve, but being late for breakfast would result in a more severe punishment.

The two friends raced down the stairs. Cara, tired from the morning workout, moved faster than Mariel expected, but then again, to the younger girl the risk of receiving punishment was a much higher motivator than it was to Mariel. As they ran with their skirts in their hands, Mariel thought about this fact and then remembered how Cara waited in the room for her and did not leave until she was ready even though they risked getting in trouble.

They stopped outside of the dining room to catch their breath. When they entered, the priestesses, novices, and other students were already seated.

High Priestess said, “You are late. Promptness is one of the virtues of a noblewoman. To be tardy, even by a few minutes, is to raise suspicion about where you have been and why you are late. And young ladies cannot afford to ruin their reputations in such a manner.”

The flush that had risen in Cara’s cheeks from running faded completely from her face.

Mariel’s sharp tongue lashed out. “So I suppose if, say a young woman had an emergency in the privy and so was a few minutes late, everyone present would start thinking she had been off rolling in a haystack with a man?”

Gasps echoed around the room.

“Miss Mariel,” High Priestess snapped, “I do not tolerate such talk from young ladies.”

“And what about the act itself?” Mariel asked. “Because I know that a couple of your young
ladies
haven’t been so chaste recently.”

Two of the older girls blushed and a few others glanced their way, but High Priestess continued to stare at Mariel.

“How dare you accuse any of these girls of such an atrocity? They are well-bred and were raised properly. I would never allow such a thing to occur in this convent.” The words were spoken with force, but beneath the strong show, Mariel detected an uncertainty bred from the knowledge that the princess usually told the truth in instances like this.

“To teach you a lesson, both you and Miss Cara will spend breakfast time in the temple praying to Narel that she might help you learn to be on time and cleanse you of such disgraceful thoughts. I expected better of you, Miss Cara, I will be writing to your father, Lord Stonewell.”

“No,” Cara moaned as she stumbled and grabbed the wall. She was probably imagining her father’s violent reaction to such a letter. She looked like she might faint.

Mariel had gone too far this time. Trouble was something Mariel managed to get herself into often, it was a special habit of hers, but generally she faced the consequences alone. Her words had gotten more than herself in trouble and, for the first time in her life, she felt sorry for the person she dragged down with her.

“It’s my fault,” Mariel blurted. “I’m the reason Cara is late. I snuck out early and went for a run in the woods. I lost track of time. Cara was asleep when I left, so she didn’t know where I went and was scared for me. She waited until I came back and that is why we were both late. Please, High Priestess, don’t punish Cara for something that’s my fault.”

High Priestess reeled back in her chair with a look of astonishment. “Are you taking responsibility for your actions? Are you saying you are to blame for Miss Cara’s tardiness?”

This was foreign territory to Mariel, but the expression of hope and gratitude that Cara wore was enough to make the outlaw continue: “Yes, High Priestess, Cara is completely innocent. It was my fault.”

For a moment everyone was silent, gawking at her, but High Priestess shook her head slightly as though to clear it. “Very well then, Miss Cara, since it appears you are not in the wrong, you may take your seat and eat. Novice Violet, please escort Miss Mariel to the temple. Miss Mariel, you will spend your breakfast kneeling in the temple asking Narel for forgiveness for your grievances.”

It was Mariel’s turn to be surprised. “That’s it? I only miss one breakfast? But I broke several rules today.”

“Would you prefer that I give you more punishments?”

“No, but . . .”

“Then I suggest you leave quickly before I change my mind.”

High Priestess turned her attention to cracking a hard-boiled egg.

“But High Priestess,” Isabel cried as though she were the wounded party. “She was late and admitted to sneaking out and spoke about unmentionable things! Surely you do not mean to punish her so lightly?”

High Priestess set down her spoon and looked fiercely at the school bully. “Miss Isabel, the way this convent and this finishing school are run are my concern, not yours. I will dole out punishments as I see fit, and, unless you wish to join Miss Mariel in the temple, I suggest you focus your energies on your breakfast.”

Mariel exchanged an amazed look with Cara. Novice Violet appeared at Mariel’s shoulder, and the girl decided to take High Priestess’s advice and leave the room quickly. After all, she had the next hour to spend kneeling on the hard floor of the temple to give her time to think about what had happened.

* * *

Mariel continued to stay on good behavior, only receiving punishments seven times in the course of the next few weeks. She even discovered the wonders of a free-period, which she spent with Cara in the forest teaching her more self-defense techniques. Cara joined Mariel and James for exercises every morning. James and Mariel spent half the time teaching Cara, and the other half working on Mariel’s skills with her weapons. Cara was impressed by Mariel’s ability with a sword, but, although the older girl’s swordsmanship while wearing a gown had improved significantly over the weeks, she still could not beat James. 

Mariel lived for those sessions with Cara and James. The daily routine of life at the convent was torturous, even when she tried to keep a positive attitude about the situation. There was a point when boring became unbearable, when all she wanted to do was release a scream that would be heard all the way to Fintel. It was no wonder noblewomen had fluff for brains, they were never allowed to think! 

She felt herself getting stupider with nothing to challenge her mind besides her workouts. Most of the books that could be found in the convent were religious based or dealt with the instruction provided to the blue-blood students, which was nothing Mariel wanted to read. She stole a couple of decent books in Dremien from Priestess Penelope’s room, but they were the only good reads in the convent. The impoverished town nearby held no educational treasures either, since the inhabitants were illiterate.

One hot night in early August, Cara spent the evening free-period writing to her mother, and the other girls, who were enjoying the warm air, were careful to avoid the girl banging her head against the convent wall.

“I suppose I lost the bet with myself. I expected you to go crazy in this penitentiary sooner than this. Maybe my presence kept it from happening sooner.”

Mariel backed away from the wall, rubbing her forehead. She knew James was trying to get a rise out of her, and she did not want him to know that his joke was actually the truth—she lived for the times she could freely be herself around him and Cara.

“I have nothing to challenge my mind!” she cried. “There are no good books close by and no one to have a serious debate with. Cara is a nice girl and she is learning self-defense quicker than I expected, but she is still so shy and timid. She wouldn’t dare get into an argument with me, even if it were just for fun. I miss the zreshlans of Ambras Añue and being part of the Resistance. It is amazing how much better behaved I can be when I’m pretending to be someone I’m not, instead of being stuck in this blasted place.”

“Can it be that the fearless and cunning outlaw Mariel Quickwit is actually
whining
?” James asked with raised eyebrows and an expression of sheer amusement.

Mariel quickly closed her mouth and seethed quietly. What was happening to her? First she was going stupid, and now she was whining. This place really was corrupting her. She was trapped in the only prison that had ever managed to hold her, and it was a place without locks. She was here to protect someone she loved, but if she did not soon get something to challenge her mind, she might actually go insane and flee this place, and that would only result in Darren’s death. She shivered at the thought, realizing that she was getting desperate.

“I need something to do to keep me thinking.”

She started to pace, a behavior that was not a normal habit of hers.

“I could steal a few books, but there is no place close enough that I can go to and get back before I am missed. If I vanish I will probably get into bigger trouble than ever, and that would result in staying here longer, which would definitely lead to my insanity. I can’t leave . . .” She stopped walking suddenly and spun on her friend. “But you can. You can go get a few books for me. Please, James, you have to!”

Was she actually begging? Yes, she was. She was that desperate and since she had already started, she might as well finish. “If you want me to ever do any good in this kingdom you have to keep me sane. I need stimulus for my mind, something besides the steady tap of a stick keeping time for a court dance or the pull of needle and thread through fabric. Please, James, please!”

James gaped at the girl he had known so long. She knew he could see the pleading and desperation in her eyes, for she could see the war he raged with himself. His eyes were unguarded for a moment, revealing fear and desire, but he closed off the door to his soul before Mariel could uncover why those feelings were there.

“I won’t leave you,” he said finally, although it seemed to pain him to say it.

Mariel could not believe what she heard. “But you must be going as crazy as I am. There is nothing for you to do but muck stalls and help a meek noble girl learn to defend herself—although you seem to enjoy bringing maids to your bed. Why don’t you want to leave and take a break? In fact, I still don’t understand why you’re here in the first place.”

There. She had finally said it. She had revealed her doubts about James’s peculiar behavior. He had to be here to spy on her. It was the only plausible explanation.

A smile flitted across James’s face, but it seemed forced to Mariel. “What? You don’t believe me when I say I’m here to protect the pretty neck of the next queen of Natric?”

Mariel snorted in disbelief. She watched as James’s forced smile disappeared entirely.

“Many people are upset that King Vincent named a female heir who is illegitimate and the daughter of Darren Brightsword—the most wanted outlaw in the kingdom until he was pardoned for your sake. Those facts are enough to make many powerful people hate you, but what they do not know is that you are also a wanted outlaw yourself, Miss Quickwit. That truth is hidden for now, but even so, someone evidently wants you dead, even you admit assassination attempts have been tried on you.

“You may not trust me, but I am your friend and I don’t want to see you buried in a coffin because you were unwillingly forced into a life you have always hated and someone thought you weren’t an appropriate candidate for the throne.”

“I can protect myself,” Mariel scoffed.

But that was not entirely true she realized. She had only survived the ogre assassination attempt because the Versati Corps trainees had come to her rescue. And the first assassination attempt, the one that successfully killed her mother at Remel, was one she did not remember, but she did not think it was her own cunning that saved her. What had happened? Why could she not remember? How had Mariel escaped? Images of brown recluse spiders and the hem of grey robes, the feel of blood warming cold steel and her hand, and the stench of rotting carcasses assaulted her.

She gasped and tore her thoughts away from her forgotten past. Remembering would give her answers, but they were not answers she wanted to face. The past was done, right now she was dying of boredom not of someone seeking to kill her. The truth of her past was not what she was after, sustenance for her mind was. She turned the full power of her unique eyes on James, throwing every ounce of pleading into her gaze.

She thought she saw his shields begin to crack, but he broke eye contact. He wore an expression of desperation as he glanced around to make sure no one was watching. He grabbed Mariel and shoved her against the wall of the convent, covering her lips with his.

The normal shock was the first thing that struck Mariel, but that was quickly replaced by anger. James had her pinned against the wall. He knew her weak spots and was a trained fighter. He held her in just the right way that she could not fight him.

But he was not going to get away with kissing her either. Using the only defense left to her, Mariel bit her assaulter’s lip.

The rusty flavor of blood struck her taste buds and James backed off. She skillfully slid one of her knives out of its wrist-sheath and held it between them. He would think twice about attacking her again if she had a weapon in her hand. Of course, James had his own personal lethal weapon at his dispense: his viper venom, but if Mariel had learned to trust him in anything, it was that he would not to kill her.