The Black Prince: Part I Read Online Free PDF Page A

seriously pursued before, because he was only a bastard, was now important. She didn’t seem to realize, though, that while she might treat him differently he was still the same man. His loyalty was for those who cared about the man. Not the position, or the reputation. And for those who dealt kindly with his sister, his best friend and, now, the only true family he had.
    “You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you stand.”
    Rose took a step back.
    They’d grown apart so far since they’d come to Caer Addanc. Hart had come, of course, to take service with Tristan; and Rose had come to take service with Isla. A promotion far beyond what her accomplishments allowed. Any woman in Rose’s place should have jumped at this chance to transform her fortunes. A chance at a different life, truly. And an opportunity that should have bound her all the more firmly to Isla. For what did men—and women—earn each others’ loyalty, if not the gift of chances such as this?
    Instead, Rose had no sooner arrived than she’d turned on her mistress. Supposing, apparently, that there’d be a place for her here independent of Isla’s intervention. Or, even more troubling, she might have supposed that Isla would be too cowed by Rose’s defection to object, letting Rose stay on and continue to torment her. That Rose envisioned herself the better mistress was obvious. If the reasons supporting such a conclusion were not. Perhaps she’d planned, indeed, on becoming the mistress; reducing Isla to such a state of self-hatred that she became nonfunctional while Rose herself pursued Tristan.
    Had Hart been in Isla’s place, he’d have thrown Rose out into the snow in her smallclothes. But Isla had ever been the gentler spirit, and instead insisted that Rose be found some placement within the castle walls. And so she had been: as a scullery maid.
    That she ever saw her former mistress was doubtful, except perhaps in passing. Had she stayed the course, she’d have eaten at table with Isla instead of in the kitchens with the other peasants. The salt of the earth, who had no patience for Rose and her airs and told her so.
    She was given all the worst jobs, not because she’d fallen from grace but because she thought herself better than others. Meanwhile Hart’s star had only risen. That he’d earned his reputation—for good and for ill—was beyond dispute.
    “That I don’t is merely as a favor to Isla.”
    Rose stared.
    “She’d be upset.” Hart used his most patient tone, as if tutoring a particularly stupid child.
    “She’s…a devil.” That last word was a hiss.
    “And so am I.”
    And then Hart was on the road.



FIVE
    H e and Callas made good time that first day, stopping just short of the first passes to make camp.
    They’d brought a small group of men with them, hand-picked for their endurance and skill with a sword. Men whom both Callas and Hart trusted. He thought again about what Tristan had told them: that a group of townspeople were harboring those loyal to Maeve. Molag would be a sensible spot from which to launch an incursion down into Barghast. High up in the foothills, it was difficult to reach. While any advancing soldiers could be picked off easily. A handful of competent archers, really, that was all that was needed.
    He hoped devoutly that the rebels—and he was certain that there
were
rebels—hadn’t been apprised of their coming.
    Callas added more wood to the fire. Around them, snow drifted down in lazy swirls. Dusk was just now lengthening the shadows, long finger-like things that stretched across the small clearing. Only a fool waited to make camp until he had to. They’d found this spot, and so they’d stopped. If they’d waited another hour, they’d have had no choice in the matter and might have ended up somewhere completely exposed to the wind or, even worse, indefensible. Both man and beast were a danger in these woods, as they were everywhere. He who wanted to survive, planned