Songbird's Cage

Chapter 4

Lark strode into the stables, her black pants and boots tight against her legs. Her leather bodice was loosely laced - she'd threatened the servants until they'd listened to her demands - and the pale tunic she wore beneath was large on her, despite the protests of her ladies in waiting, who believed that anything she wore should impress Prince Aspen. A knife was strapped to her thigh, and she had another blade hidden in her belt.

As she entered, Rory twisted away from his horse to look at her. His eyes widened, and he fumbled with the brush, nearly dropping it. Swearing, he collected himself, his eyes closing as he flushed.

"You look..." he swallowed, and opened his eyes. "Dangerous."

Lark laughed. In reality, she was hiding how shaken she was from the attack. Her father had always made her carry a knife in Hidel, and the one strapped to her leg reminded her of her childhood. It made her feel safer.

"Are the horses ready?" she asked, walking over. He nodded, but didn't look at her. A beat later, he pointed to a horse in the stall beside him, a beautifully sleek white mount. Smiling, she took the beast's reigns, leading her out of the stable. Rory followed a few seconds later. He grimaced as he swung up into the saddle, biting his lip as he gripped the leather of the reigns.

"You're hurt," she said, her brow furrowing as she mounted. "I saw the bruises. What happened?"

"I was born."

He said nothing more, busying himself with his sword belt, readjusting the way his scabbard fell against his leg. She fell silent, not wanting to press him. Lark desperately didn't want to make a mistake and lose the only friend she had. It was terrifying to be who she was, knowing that the tiniest slip in the complex social game that was court could end in disaster. So she submitted.

"You told Prince Aspen where you were going, didn't you?" Rory said. She shook her head.

"I didn't realize that he needed to be aware of my every action."

Rory shook his head. "An assassin got to your chambers. You were poisoned. For at least a few days, you're not allowed anywhere without your husband's consent."

Lark rolled her eyes and sighed. Almost unconsciously, her hand went to the blade on her thigh.

"Of course," she said, her words dripping with threat and sarcasm. "I'll go tell the prince just how much I value and care for his consent."

Rory eyed her carefully, then slid off his horse with a grunt. "I'll go speak to him. I'd rather not have you assassinate the future king."

***

Rory strode along the halls towards Prince Aspen's chambers. The prince's apartments were almost twice the size of Lark's, and they were in the opposite wing. The walk made Rory realize how much the prince had done to separate himself from her. Lady Nava's chambers were only two halls away from Prince Aspen's, but he knew that she spent little of her time there. Hardly a moment passed when Lady Nava was not with the future king.

As he approached, he realized that the door was slightly ajar, and loud voices filtered out into the corridor.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" a man shouted, and Rory recognized him as Silas, the prince's half brother, the product of the queen's first marriage.

"Nothing!" Prince Aspen protested. "You don't know how it feels to be in my position!"

"I know that no man should be drunk at his own wedding," Silas shot back. "You barely looked at her. She was terrified, and you shunned her! Then you spent the next three hours with your whore on your lap while she had to sit next to you! I can't believe you brought your mistress to your wedding!"