The Decoy Princess Read Free Page A

incense.
    “Something of value. Something small. Something you like as well?”
    My eyes teared, and I tried not to breathe that foul smoke. “Yes. Exactly.”
    She chuckled, lumbering to her feet and reaching for a pouch hanging from the ceiling. “I know what pretty women like,” she said, taking it down and untying the binding to show the bag was really a square of fabric as she opened it up on the table.
    I leaned close: a bundle of silk woven with the likeness of seaweed, a bone knife, a pointed rod of black metal the length of my forearm, a metallic cross inlaid with red wood, a flat black stone that seemed to draw in the candlelight, a plain ring of gold, a string of tiny bells, and a palm-sized puzzle box of colorful wood. But it was the knife my eyes lingered on.
    “Not money,” she said. “Give me something of yours.”
    A frown pulled my brow tight. All I had with me of value was the ring Kavenlow gave me last summer and my favorite necklace with blue stones and rubies—and she wasn’t getting Kavenlow’s ring.
    Bothered, I set the cup down and reached for the clasp of the necklace. But the old woman shook her head, her gaze upon the circlet atop my head. My eyebrows rose. She wanted my circlet?
    I glanced at Kavenlow to gauge how this particular trade was going to go over with my parents. He was staring at the wall most helpfully, already trying to divorce himself from the coming furor when it was found I’d “lost” my crown again. But burning chu pits, I wanted that knife.
    Knowing I’d pay for it later in spades, I took my circlet off and set it on the table. It was only a bit of twisted metal, worthless in my eyes. She nodded her acceptance, and I eagerly reached for the knife, pleased to no end. “Tell me about this,” I demanded, knowing the story behind it was probably more valuable than the knife itself.
    Immediately she bunched the fabric up, retied the binding, and hung it from the ceiling. My circlet was inside the impromptu bag, and I felt oddly naked without it. She sighed heavily as she settled her bulk back into her chair, and it creaked in protest. “It’s from the east,” she said, apparently not minding the smoke she had stirred up. “It belonged to a young man searching for unfailing love. He became a sultan; that’s a king of the desert. He found a good use for the ring I gave him in return. The knife of a king makes a fitting gift, don’t you think?”
    My fingers seemed slow as I turned it over in my hands, and I wondered if I ought to ask Kavenlow to open the door. But it seemed like too much effort. Engraved upon the knife were large beasts with noses as long as their legs and ears as big as their backs. Fanciful. It was perfect, especially with the story that went along with it. I blinked lethargically, trying to decide something. But I couldn’t remember what my last thought was…
    Her hand darted out, grabbing me. I gasped, jerking away as she pricked my finger on the blade.
    Shocked, I lurched to my feet. My stool crashed to the floor.
    “Tess!” Kavenlow shouted. The van dipped as he put himself between the woman and me. The fox darted under the dresser. The table hit the wall as he flung it aside.
    My heart pounded like the beating of the bird’s frantic wings as it tried to escape. Instinct backed me to a corner. My face went cold, and my grip tightened on the knife still in my hand. The smoke swirled through me, numbing me. I should do something; I couldn’t remember what.
    “Get back, Kavenlow!” the gypsy cried shrilly as she rose. Her rough accent was gone. “If you dart me, I swear I’ll pull your insides out through your nose!”
    I clasped my throbbing finger to my chest. She knows him ? I thought, forcing the concept through my muzzy head. She knew Kavenlow?
    “How am I going to explain a cut on her?” Kavenlow exclaimed. Red-faced, he stood stiffly between the gypsy and me with his hands clenched at his sides.
    The large raggedy woman sneered