Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,103
close the curtains.
The stars twinkled. A cool breeze made the trees sway.
My pulse jumped when a reflection moved over the glass. I glanced wildly around the room and held my breath so that I could listen for excess noise. But there was nothing other than Shiksa’s rumbly breathing and the crackling fire.
Still, I could not shake the feeling that I was being watched. I crawled to my knees, reaching for the sword that lay beneath pillows at the end of the bed. My hand felt for the hilt and curled around the familiar leather binding.
The light from the fire cast a glare on the windowpane, but I could still see the blurry outline of something. I slipped from my bed without making a sound.
As I approached the window, I noticed the latch was unlocked. How had that happened? Leaning forward, I held out my sword and prepared for the worst. I yanked the window open and inclined against the ledge.
The person that had been spying on me was pressed against the outside wall of the small balcony as if he could hide himself. I held my sword to the intruder’s throat with a steady hand. “Show yourself,” I growled.
Two hands raised in surrender. “And if I don’t?”
The voice was familiar, but panic kept me from recognizing it. “I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear.” I peered around the wall. “Obviously.”
“You’re a true terror,” Gunter Creshnika announced. “I nearly wet myself just now.”
I stepped back so he could face me, but I never dropped my sword. His hands remained in the air, a smug smile tilting his mouth.
“Are you here to kill me then?” I asked. “Because it will not be easy. I promise you that.”
He stepped through the open window and onto the window seat. I was forced to move back so that I could keep my position. Although now that he towered over me, I felt less in control, even if he had not pulled his sword.
“I believe you,” Gunter replied. He took a step off the frilly seat and landed on the ground with a loud thump.
Gunter was dressed in black leather from head to toe. His hair was wild, his hands dirty, and his face menacing. I did not know what to make of him or his sudden reappearance. I hadn’t known Gunter knew to look for me here. Or why he would.
“I’ll scream,” I threatened. “The guards will rush in. You’ll be outnumbered.”
He glanced at Shiksa who had moved to the edge of the bed, her coat bristled and her ears perked. “I am already outnumbered.”
“Why are you here, Gunter Creshnika? How did you find me?”
His gaze moved back to mine. “It is not a secret you are here. The entire realm is talking about the Lost Princess found at last.”
“Not here in Sarasonet,” I growled. “I mean here.” I swung my free arm toward the bed. “In this room?”
“Oh.” He smiled at me. “That is not a secret either.”
I took a deep breath and tried to calm my frantic nerves. “Did my uncle pay you then? How much is the reward for assassinating me? How much am I worth?”
His smile disappeared. “Quite a lot, I’m afraid. The bounty for your head is the highest I have ever seen.”
Dread punched through me. I had not thought to be afraid of assassins yet.
“So, you are here to kill me. Truly?”
“Tess,” he said instead. “If I meant to kill you, you would have been dead long ago. It was obvious enough. My people knew who you were the second they saw you. Arrick’s army wasn’t quite as fast, but they never are.”
I stared at him, my sword wavering. “Wait, are you telling me you knew who I was from Tenovia? You knew I was a princess?”
He clicked his tongue. “Not just any princess, Tessana Allisand. The princess. And I knew before we ever stood face to face. Before I ever laid eyes on you. It was only confirmed when we met.”
“But… but how?”
“Arrick Westnovian of course. He sent a rider asking a simple enough favor of me. We have contacts all over the realm, you see. Word travels quickly when you are a Cavolian. Arrick asked me to check your story, find out if a girl and a novice monk had left a monastery en route for Elysia. So I did exactly that. I found out the truth. Your Brotherhood might not speak, but the villages in the Rolling Hills of Gane do not shut up. But