“And who are you?”
I couldn’t find my voice at the simple question. I hadn’t picked a fake name. In the last three days, it hadn’t been necessary. No one asked me for my name. They didn’t seem to care about my existence. Only Fowler’s.
Tension radiated from Fowler beside me and I knew he was willing me to say something, and quickly—convince everyone that I was just a boy and no one worth consideration.
“They’re friends,” Breslen answered for me. “He was traveling with the prince when we found them.”
“Indeed?” Prince Chasan murmured, his voice closer now because he had moved closer to me and I had not even heard him. What was wrong with me?
My chin went up. He was so close. I felt his breath on my face, fanning over my cheek and nose and lips. I caught more of the mint I had smelled earlier. “Are you absolutely certain, Breslen, that you’ve found the prince of Relhok? Because I have my doubts.”
Fowler’s breath hitched a little beside me. I don’t know if it was the question or because Prince Chasan lifted his hand right then and tugged my cap from my head, exposing my mud-caked hair to the chilled air.
“Your Highness, I am certain,” Breslen insisted as I suffered the prince’s examination. My skin burned everywhere his gaze brushed—which was all over. “I remember him well from the two other times I visited Relhok City. He put on quite the memorable archery display at court. He’s an exceptional archer. I’m sure once he’s healed he can put on a demonstration for us. Also, I never forget a face. He’s a little older, his face more gaunt, but it’s him.”
The prince stepped back, apparently done examining me. My shoulders slumped slightly in relief to be finished with his scrutiny. He gave a grunt that didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I can hardly see his face beneath the scruff. He needs a good razor. I’m sure he did not look like this at King Cullan’s court. Can you not be mistaken?”
His arrogant tone pricked at me. I knew he was born to privilege and all the honors of his rank, and it stood to reason he should sound so haughty. It shouldn’t bother me. And yet it did.
Being born to privilege didn’t mean you had to be full of such arrogance. Fowler didn’t sound or act that way.
I couldn’t stop myself. I spoke up. “He is who he claims. We’re not lying.” Hot defiance draped my words.
Fowler reached for my arm again, squeezing for me to hold my tongue. He should know me better by now.
“Is that so, little one?” Prince Chasan took a step in my direction, and I instantly had second thoughts about calling his attention back to me.
Fowler slid a step closer to me, as though he would shield me—he who could hardly stand on his own two feet.
“I’m not mistaken, Your Highness,” Breslen offered resolutely.
“Interesting.” Mint breath was on my face again. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, and I resented that. Unpleasant people shouldn’t smell nice. “I cannot decide whether I trust your judgment, Breslen. Especially since you are so glaringly wrong about the boy here.”
I jerked at this reference to me. I was standing right in front of him. I felt his stare on my face, and yet he spoke about me as if I were some inferior species.
“What do you mean, Your Highness?” Breslen asked, indignation thrumming in his tones, robbing him of his usual reverence despite his formal address.
The prince did not seem to note it. Or he simply let it slide. “This boy is not a boy at all. He’s a girl. Trust me. I’m an authority on the subject of girls.” Dry humor spiked his voice, which did nothing to lessen my burst of panic. He knew. He took one look at me and knew.
Breslen sputtered as Prince Chasan continued, “You failed to notice this most obvious truth, but I’m to believe you’re perceptive enough to remember and recognize the prince of Relhok?”
My mouth worked to say something. How? How did he know? What had I done to give myself away to him so quickly and not the others? For three days I had traveled among them, my true gender undetected.
“You’re wrong,” Fowler offered beside me, clinging to the lie, unwilling to give up. He forced out a cracking laugh as if it were an absurd suggestion and only worthy of mirth. I swallowed miserably, knowing it was a lost cause even if Fowler wasn’t willing to admit that yet.
“Indeed. Am I?” Prince Chasan asked in a mild manner, his elegant tones as slick as glass—as if he were remarking upon the taste of his soup and not something significant. Not something that could spell death for me. “Because it would be an easy enough matter to prove.” There was a beat of silence as this sank in. My stomach dipped and then heaved back up. “Shall I?” he asked, testing us.
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly two soldiers grabbed me by the arms and hauled me away from Fowler’s side. I struggled, but they were bigger and stronger.