The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,12

the middle of the night.

I climb the stairs to my cozy attic room as quietly as I can, avoiding the seventh step because it creaks loudly enough to wake a bear from hibernation, and finally flop onto my fluffy bed, managing to kick off my boots and nothing else. I’ll regret it in the morning when I have to wash the dirt out of my bedding, but for now, I care about nothing but lying here undisturbed.

But I can’t ignore what happened today. Visions of Caledon and the grand prince flash in my mind. The prince was trying to kill me! And he was wearing an Aphrasian mask. Did that mean he was a traitor to the crown? I owe Caledon a debt of gratitude I could never repay—and yet, I can’t tell anyone he saved me! Still, guilt pulls at me—what if Caledon is punished for killing the prince? I have to do something. I have to say something.

The house is unnaturally silent, which means my aunts are listening to my every move. I tense, waiting to hear their footsteps on the staircase, but they never come.

Finally, I hear them whispering in their bedroom. I try to eavesdrop but I’m too tired to make much of an effort. Besides, the obstruction spell they cast over their room usually keeps me from hearing anything they say in there anyway. I wonder what, if anything, they already know about where I’ve been, and if they think my return means they’ve won our earlier argument. That I’m resigned to give up on the Guild.

As exhausted as I am, sleep will not come now. The events of the day repeat in my mind over and over again: Caledon Holt; the Grand Prince Alast; the argument about my future that led me to venturing off toward Baer Abbey in the first place. The mysterious pull toward it, the visions from the willow tree . . . I wish I could tell my aunts about all of it, except then I’d have to explain that I’d been to the abbey and admit the danger I was in.

Despite the flurry of thoughts crowding my mind, at some point I do drift off, because next thing I know, I’m waking up to the sounds of roosters crowing and pots banging downstairs. Aunt Mesha is making her morning oatmeal. My stomach growls. I hope we have molasses for it, and not just honey. And fresh cream.

I pull a pillow over my head. I’m not sure if my aunts went to bed at all; I hear their voices drift upstairs. They think I’m still sleeping, though—they’re not making much of an effort to cover their words.

I hear Aunt Mesha say, “We can’t let her—”

But Aunt Moriah interrupts her. “If she goes anyway, then what would we do? Do you want that?”

“Is it really our responsibility that she—?”

“How can you say such a thing? You know that it is!”

I hear a spoon being stirred angrily against a teacup before being slammed down on the table. “It has been quite a few years since we were her age, but if you recall, little can be done once a young mind is determined . . . Maybe if . . .” Aunt Mesha’s voice trails off.

I roll over and push myself out of bed. My arms and legs ache something awful from the day before. My neck is stiff; my shoulders hurt. I have tiny scratches all over my hands. I’m afraid to check my reflection. I’m sure I look even worse than I feel. And I’m supposed to go into town today to sell honey too.

They’re going to ask questions when I go down to the kitchen. I could tell them about the jaguar, I suppose, but not the rest. They’d certainly never believe I accidentally found myself at Baer Abbey, and that I was accidentally attacked, and that it was pure coincidence that Caledon Holt, whom I’ve so openly admired, happened to be there at precisely the right moment. How can I make them believe it was all by chance? They will most certainly think I tracked Caledon down in an attempt to persuade him to take me on as a Guild apprentice. There’s no other reasonable explanation