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They walked in silence along the thin animal trail that cut through the forest. Odette had insisted they not speak until they got a certain distance from the pond to be safe.
The past couple of nights, she tried not to worry about Lina and had resisted calling Rothbart to ask for an update. She told herself that she was angry with the girl for thwarting their assassination attempt. Falling for your mark was unacceptable, unprofessional. Unforgivable. And yet something inside her envied Lina. She’d thrown off her training. Made a decision that wasn’t orchestrated by those around her.
Fought for love. Which was more than Odette had done with Bash. And despite her lingering resentment, leaving Lina in Rothbart’s hands made her nervous.
But tonight, she needed to focus on Torsten.
She rubbed the leaves on her wrist that hid her mark from the prince. Rothbart seemed to not realize that the skull pact made it so Odette could see through any attempts to disguise his sister. From the moment she’d walked into the room, she’d known it was Zoya. Her disguise was no more than a transparent shimmering aura around her true form.
Odette hadn’t told Rothbart.
“Here,” she said. “We can speak now.”
Torsten let out a long breath as if he’d been bursting with things he wanted to say, then grinned. “So, Princess. You grew up with your mother. What about your father?”
Odette had a part to play, and being lax would get her caught. “He died. He… drowned.” It was actually the truth, but she’d never known her father. He’d passed away when she was only a small child. After struggling to survive on next to nothing, Odette’s mother had started the band of assassins.
“That is a terrible loss,” Torsten said sadly. “My father ran out on us when I was a baby. When I was five, my mother met and married my stepdad. He had this brother that would take me hunting and teach me how to be a man. It was great. I felt as if I had two dads. But then my uncle died in a hunting accident.”
Odette gave him a sympathetic glance. “I’m so sorry.”
Torsten’s head bobbed in acknowledgement. “If that wasn’t enough, last year my stepdad also passed away from illness.”
Though the prince did not use names—indeed, he hadn’t yet admitted to being a prince at all—she recalled the funeral for King Bryant only a year before. Half the kingdom had attended. But she’d forgotten that the king had a brother. A Prince Albert. Almost every child in the kingdom knew the bloody history of their kings and queens. King Bryant’s father had been a maniac, killing any potential rivals to the throne, even his own family. When Bryant and Albert were children, they’d gone into hiding until the old murderous king died, finally allowing King Bryant to rise.
But now that both brothers were dead, there was nobody to carry on the Royal Salian family line. So Torsten and his mother ruled.
Odette laid a hand on his arm. “My good sir, that must have been a horrible experience.”
“It was. Now it's just me and Mother. She’s good to me. Always given me what I wanted. Mostly.” His face twisted for a moment.
She dropped her gaze. “At least you are free,” she said in a soft voice that trembled.
Prince Torsten stopped and turned to her. He brushed a strand of hair from her brow. “You helpless little fawn. You’d be forever trapped if I hadn’t come along, wouldn’t you?” He cupped her chin, raising it so he could peer into her face. She kept her eyes wide, and she tried to appear as vulnerable as possible. As if he was her only possible savior.
“You are so gentle and sweet. The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on,” he murmured.
Odette fought not to ground her teeth and instead forced a smile. She hated the pretense she had to maintain that she was fragile, about to be broken. Prince Torsten appeared to like it. At least Rothbart treated her like she was capable.
But Torsten wanted to be the hero. So she’d let him.
His hand slid along her jaw, his touch soft, gentle. Red flashed before her vision and she saw blood spreading over bedding. She saw Bash’s lifeless form, and for a moment, panic slid up her throat. She jerked out of his reach and noticed the dejection on his face.
Dammit.
She fought to slow her agitated breaths, pressing her palm to her stomach. She tried to recapture the innocent look she had moments ago. “Forgive me,” she muttered. “You have been so kind to me. I do not want to presume—”
“Nonsense.” He stepped close but didn’t touch her, even though she could see the disappointment on his face. “Your propriety does you credit.”
Odette held in a snort.
“I want to free you from this curse.” He gazed upon her like she was a prize he sought to claim. “Return with me to my home. Tonight.”
“I can’t. If the sorcerer finds out, he will ruin everything, and I will never be free. Only someone who can prove their love to the world can free me.”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “I have a confession, Odette. I am not any man. I am a prince.”
She forced her jaw to drop and placed a hand on her chest. “You are?”
