The Stolen Heir by Holly Black

He nods in a distracted fashion, and I flee to the back of the bus, still holding the phone. A few more people board, including the man who was watching me so strangely. My feelings are too tangled up for me to pay any of them much attention.

Once Lady Nore is dead, or perhaps wearing the bridle, maybe I will speak with Bex and my unmother and unfather again. Maybe, if I knew I could keep them safe from Bogdana. If I knew I could keep them safe from me.

Leaning my cheek against the glass, I slip my hand into the folds of the scarf, just to have the reassuring feel of the bridle’s leather strap, to know I have a plan. I dig my fingers through the cloth, then reach around my body, scratching at my stomach, fresh panic flooding my chest.

The bridle isn’t there.

Outside the window, Titch sits on the gutter of the bus station, blinking at me with golden eyes.

The bus begins to roll forward. I try to tell myself that I can still get away. That perhaps the bus will drive faster than the creature can fly. That Oak and Tiernan will not be able to follow.

That’s when I hear a tire pop. The bus lurches to a stop, and I realize there is nowhere for me to go.





CHAPTER

12

A

s I walk back through the woods, I am furious with all the world, but especially myself.

Even though I knew Oak had played the entire Court of Moths false and gotten himself punched in the face twice to convince them he was a vain, useless courtier, had preened and drank a trough of wine to hide his swordsmanship. Even though Oak told me the Roach had taught him the trick with the coin, still I didn’t consider that the goblin might also have taught Oak the far more practical skill of stealing.

The prince was careful to speak to me as if nothing at all was the matter, even as he lifted the bridle from around my waist. Worked it off with such deftness that I hadn’t felt more than a single touch. Lulled by his conversation, I let myself believe I had fooled him at the very moment he was fooling me.

He was as deceptive as the rest of his family. More, maybe.

He never let down his guard with me, not once.

Too late, I understand what’s terrifying about his charm. He seems entirely open when he is unknowable. Every smile is painted on, a mask.

Maybe I’m glad that you gave me an opportunity to be my worst self.



The campsite is as quiet as when I left it. Tiernan remains draped in the tree, making soft snoring sounds. Titch shadows me with shining eyes. I stare at Oak, half-hoping he will turn over and confront me, and half-dreading it.

As I pass him, I note that his breaths are even, though I bet he sleeps the way cats do, lightly. If I got too close, I bet he would spring up, ready to fight.

That is, if he’s sleeping at all.

I creep over to my own blankets and flop onto them. Despair drags me down into dreams, where I am back in the snow, walking in circles.

When I wake, it is to the smell of buttered rolls and coffee from town. Oak and Tiernan are eating and talking quietly. I hear Tiernan laugh, and I wonder how much of what they are saying is about my escape attempt, if they find my failure hilarious.

Oak wears mortal clothes over his shining golden mail. It peeks out at his collar and cuffs. Tiernan wears his armor without any cover.

When the prince glances over at me, nothing changes in his expression. Maybe that’s because, to him, nothing has changed. He’d never believed I was anything but a potential adversary or a potential sacrifice.

I bite my tongue until it bleeds.

He smiles, and finally I see the flicker of anger in his eyes. It’s satisfying that he, who hides so much, can’t hide that. He walks over and sits beside me. “You knew I was a trickster.”

Then, before I can react, he presses a finger to his lips, glancing sideways at Tiernan. It takes me a moment to understand that he hasn’t told the knight that I attempted to steal the bridle. What I don’t understand is why.

Tiernan rises and throws water onto the fire, causing a cloud of steam to rise. The late afternoon is bright, the sky almost aggressively blue after the storm.

I stick a roll in my mouth and pack up the remains of my gown, transferring the knife Oak lent me to my boot.

Tiernan mutters something and then heads off into the woods.

“Where is he going?” I ask.

“To Undry Market, ahead of us, to negotiate for the boat. Tiernan believes if the goblins know who I am, they will ask for outlandish things. We will take another path and see if anything follows.” He pauses. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I get up and brush off my legs. When someone thwarted your attempt to rob them, made it clear you were their prisoner, and then asks you a question like that, it’s not really a question.

We walk for a while in silence.

“Do you remember what I said about us being formidable, were we able to put mistrust aside?” he asks.

I nod reluctantly.

“I see we were not able,” he reminds me. “Now what, Wren?”

I feel helpless, as though he’s herding me around a chessboard to checkmate. “Why are you asking me this?”

He lets out a frustrated huff. “Fine, I will be plain. If you wanted to leave, why not go any other night?”

Another trap. “Why should I tell you anything, when you’re the one with so many secrets?”

“Everyone has secrets,” he says, although there is something like despair in his voice.