The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,22

who the prisoner is, but I can scarcely believe it.

The official story from the palace is that the grand prince was murdered by a local blacksmith, Caledon Holt. There is no specific mention of where the grand prince was found. It happened during a botched robbery, said one. An evening of high-stakes gambling at an out-of-the-way tavern that led to an argument, or perhaps an ambush, said others. He’s being sent to Deersia to await trial and will surely be executed.

But I know the truth.

Caledon is not a traitor, but a hero.

He should be at the head of a parade, feted and beloved; instead he is being led from the capital of Renovia in chains.

Why did the queen do this? Why?

This is all my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t been at Baer Abbey, he wouldn’t have needed to rescue me or kill the grand prince.

The cart draws nearer. Now I regret buying this ceramic vessel. I can’t carry it right now, and it won’t fit in the cloth bag slung over my shoulder, which is heavy enough already, filled with tiny jars of the salves I was supposed to sell. I see a young girl standing alone just a few paces from me. She carries a basket with a loaf of fresh bread and some fruit.

“Excuse me,” I say.

She looks startled. “I paid for this,” she says. “Ask him.” She points to the fruit vendor.

I hold out the pot. “No, no, I’m to deliver this to your mother. Can you take it to her for me?”

“Oh! Yes,” she says. I hand it to her and she puts it in her basket.

“Enjoy!” I say, already walking away. I pull my hood forward around my face and disappear into the crowd, trying to edge closer to the road. If I stand tiptoe, I can see Caledon in the back of the cart. He sits with his back straight, defiant. I follow his piercing gaze to the palace balcony, where his eyes are locked on the queen. No hint of emotion shows on his face. Hers is much too far away to make out, even if it wasn’t obscured by the drape of her veil, but I can tell she’s holding her usual perfect posture, hands clasped in front of her long white dress. Still as a statue.

I wonder if Caledon is afraid. I would be. Deersia is a dangerous, lonely place. Most who enter are never seen again, even before they make it to trial. Few men are willing to take jobs at the prison—it’s considered a punishment just to work there—so it’s become customary for royal officials to relocate their troublesome staff to the fortress. The threat of a stint boiling linens or flushing pans at Deersia is a useful deterrent. Parents are known to threaten their sons: “Behave, or it’s off to Deersia with you!”

Caledon’s situation is especially precarious. He is charged with murdering a royal. Those who loved Prince Alast will no doubt seek revenge, and there are likely to be a few of them working at the prison. And though Caledon is known only as a local blacksmith, there have to be some, especially at Deersia, who are aware of his true occupation. He’s sure to have enemies in Renovia’s underworld. They’d probably like nothing more than to be the assassin’s own executioner.

The guard notices Caledon looking up at the queen, so he yanks him to the floor of the cart by his chains. The crowd cheers at the spectacle. “Impertinent bastard,” the guard sneers. “Keep your eyes to your filthy feet.” Queen Lilianna disappears behind white curtains in a flurry of fabric. A maid shuts the balcony door after her and draws the drapes.

Seems she can’t even bear to observe what she’s done.

My head pounds with a sudden surge of anger. I don’t know how he can stand it. How can he keep from lashing back at the guard, at the people? I doubt I could be so stoic. Fury boils up in me just from watching it happen.

Caledon saved my life, without the slightest hesitation or consideration for his own well-being. For that, I am eternally in his debt. And he’s in