Chapter 2
Chapter two
The moment her cap hit the ground, everything froze. The rolling carriages, snorting horses, and the bustling sounds of the city grew silent.
Something didn’t settle right when the pickpocket had slipped their fingers into his coat.
The boy weighed nothing as Cedric slammed him into the wall, his throat too thin beneath his arm, and his jaw too delicate.
The flare of anger extinguished as soon as a cascade of dirty blonde locks fell loose around the thief’s face.
A pair of blue eyes like the winter river locked onto his, and his breath hitched. This was no boy.
Princess Marianne?
His thoughts lurched for every plausible explanation to make sense of the woman in front of him. Had she escaped her rooms? Why would she disguise herself this way?
However, the gold flecks in her frightened eyes made him pause. Princess Marianne had silver lining her irises.
Cedric examined every speck of dirt on the woman’s face, noting the tough calluses on her palms, her cracked fingernails grasping his arm, and the deep hollow of her throat. There, at the corner of her mouth, was also a small mole that seemed out of place.
Had he not spent years serving the princess, he would have continued to be deceived by the woman’s uncanny resemblance.
Cautiously, he eased his grip over the woman’s neck. She gulped in a greedy breath of air, her body trembling beneath him. The similarities were too precise to ignore—the possibilities too significant. However, a foreboding thought flickered in his mind.
“The Silver Flame seems to be growing increasingly dangerous,” His informant, Jean, had told him minutes ago. “They’re under the impression that the princess is a danger to Aurelion’s future. They could be the possible assassin we’re looking for.”
“Who are you?” he asked, his suspicions rising. “Who sent you?”
“I’m Nin! A n-no one, Monsieur, I swear it!”
It wasn’t a lie, and the truth was laced with naked terror. A trained assassin or an imposter would not be able to mimic the emotion as genuinely as she did.
Cedric’s shoulders slumped, the tension unraveling like loose threads. She was not a threat. She was merely a street urchin playing a dangerous game of thievery.
“What do you want?” she pleaded.
His arm still trapped her to the wall, and he wondered why he hesitated to release her. Her question sank into his thoughts.
Cedric knew what he wanted. He wished to protect Princess Marianne from the dangers lurking beyond his sight, but what did he want from this street urchin? Again, he took in every detail of her face, and his breath grew tight.
“You look exactly like her,” he murmured. “In almost every way… How old are you?”
Nin’s brows furrowed, her confusion overriding the fear etched in her features. “Twenty-two—what’s that have to do with anything?”
Cedric ignored her question as his mind raced with the possibilities. She was the right age, only a year younger than the princess and five years his junior. A seed embedded itself in his mind, blooming until it slipped from his control.
“Are you literate?” he asked.
A scowl marred her chapped lips. “What kind of interrogation is this?” she snapped. “Of course, I can read!”
That would be one less thing he would need to worry about.
Despite her outraged protest, the pieces locked into place. He considered every risk, every consequence, and the inevitable disaster this mad plan could lead to if a single wrong step were made. It was most likely to fail.
Although, what other options did he have? In weeks to come, royals from around the world would be visiting the palace, and their kingdom couldn’t afford to have the princess injured or killed as the main event. The crown did not need a tragedy to unfold before their tentative allies.
If he was going to protect the princess and the safety of their kingdom’s borders, he couldn’t allow this opportunity to slip by.
Cedric stepped back, his arm falling to his side, but he side-stepped to block the only exit. The woman gingerly peeled herself away from the wall and picked up the cap from the ground.
“Look, if it’s your coins you want, you can have them—”
“I actually wish to talk,” he cut in with a brusque edge.
Nin laughed, a strained sound, and guilt flashed through him at the red mark he left on her neck. “Men like you don’t want to just talk.”
“Fortunately for you, I’m not like most men,” he nodded toward her person. “Keep the coins. There will be more if you stay and listen to my proposition.”
She eyed him warily, stealing a glance at the exit behind him. If he didn’t make his case soon, he might lose the opportunity altogether if she bolted. It would be unwise to delay.
Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and folded his hands behind his back. “I require a substitute for Her Highness, Princess Marianne.”
They regarded each other in stark silence.
Cedric knew this was an impulsive offer—desperate even to consider a stranger he had just met, but perhaps madness was the answer.
“A what?” She gave an owlish blink.
“I need you to take the princess’s place,” he explained. “Your resemblance is near exact, and you will assume her likeness and serve as her counterpart.”
The thief barked out a howling laugh. Gradually, the chuckling transformed into chortles as she threw her head back and slapped her knee. Cedric bit back the urge to snap at her for mocking him and maintained his composure.
When she finally ceased snickering, Nin peered up at him, meeting his grave, unamused expression. She straightened. “Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Regrettably,” he admitted tightly, already questioning his choice. “This is no laughing matter, either. The princess is in danger, and you would serve as the perfect stand-in.”
The thief’s mouth parted, her eyes blinking in rapid succession. “You want me to… play princess?” She scoffed and waved her dirty sleeve between them. “Are you blind? Do I look like princess material to you?”
“Your clothing can be easily replaced,” he answered, unfazed. Her clothing would be the least of his concerns.
“Look, Monsieur, I don’t make deals with crazy people—”
Cedric exhaled an impatient breath. It appeared something more persuasive was required.
He withdrew another, heavier bag from within his coat pockets.
The coins clinked within the drawstring purse, and her head snapped to the sound almost comically, like a stray dog catching the scent of meat on the wind.
“It seems you do not understand the gravity of the situation. I am the Captain of the Princess’s Guard, and if you accept,” he said, rattling the coins, “you would be given more than this bag could ever hold: food, clothing, and a home to call your own. Her Highness will reward you graciously.”
Nin took a hesitant step forward, her eyes glazing with a hungry glint. Cedric sensed an imminent victory until she tore herself away with a vehement shake of her head.
“No… I can’t accept whatever this is,” she said, stepping back and lifting her chin. She folded her arms across her chest, “I’m not a puppet for whatever mess you nobles created. I’m no princess, and I never will be.”
Disappointment flashed within him. He withdrew the bag and placed it back where it belonged in his coat. Then, tilted his head, dissecting the determination etched on her features.
Her refusal struck him harder than he wished to admit.
The Maker seemed to have handed him a miracle on a platter, only for the girl to have the sense of a kicked alley cat.
For once, he had found a real plan, the one sliver of hope he’d seen in this forsaken place, and she was destroying it with one word.
However, he had learned long ago not to rely on the fragility of ideas. Another could be made, but he wasn’t going to give up on this one so easily.
“Very well,” he said.
A faint crease marred her brow. He moved to allow her a path of escape, but retrieved an ivory card engraved with his name and the royal symbol of the sun-crowned stag. The gilded paint sparkled in the dim alley as he extended it to her.
Nin regarded it with a frown. “What’s this?”
“If you decide to take up my offer, meet me at the Old Weaver’s Gate at midnight in three days,” he said coolly, and sent a prayer up that it would be enough time to prepare for this undertaking. “I will only wait for one hour.”
“I just said—”
“You’ll be safe, I give you my word.”
Nin’s mouth pressed into a thin line, “I’m not afraid.”
Cedric raised a single brow in challenge. “Then take the card.”
After a pause, she grumbled something unintelligible under her breath and snatched it from him, shoving it into her coat as she glared at him.
Turning on his heel, his cloak snapped behind him, but after a few steps, he caught a whisper trailing after him.
“Why me?”
Cedric came to a stop and tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Because you resemble her more than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s reason enough for me.”
Nin didn’t respond, and he walked on, embracing the bluster of city life. Although an unfamiliar knot coiled in his stomach as he crossed the road.
No matter what choice she made, he sensed that his life, as he knew it, would never be the same.