CHAPTER TWO

"She's what?" I demanded, staring at Lady Amara. My knees ached from kneeling on the stone courtyard. "What does this mark mean?"

Lady Amara looked at Prince Louis like she was asking permission to speak.

"Tell her," he said.

She turned back to me. "The Mark of the Warrior Moon. It hasn't been seen in this kingdom for over a hundred years. It marks the women of the old royal bloodline. The House of Rashad."

My stomach dropped. "That's impossible. I'm not royal. My mother was just a seamstress."

"Your mother was Princess Amira of the House of Rashad," Lady Amara said quietly. "She went into hiding after the civil war ended. She took a new identity as a simple seamstress. But she was born a princess of the old dynasty."

I shook my head. "No. You're wrong. My mother would have told me."

"Would she?" Prince Louis asked. "When telling you could get you killed?"

I thought about my mother's careful words. The way she'd touched my birthmark and called it a promise. The way she'd made me swear to hide it, to never let Salma see it uncovered. The way she'd died so suddenly three years ago, wasting away from what everyone said was illness.

"Salma poisoned her," I whispered. "Didn't she?"

Lady Amara nodded. "We suspected it at the time. But we had no proof, and your mother had hidden her identity so well that no one knew to investigate."

"Why would Salma kill her? My father married Salma after my mother died."

"Your father didn't know who your mother really was," Prince Louis said. "He was a scholar, a good man but naive. When your mother died, he married Salma within six months. Salma needed the marriage to gain access to your mother's hidden wealth. Old royal families always have gold hidden away, even in exile."

Everything made horrible sense now. Why Salma kept me close but treated me like a slave. Why she never let me leave the house alone. Why she covered my mark and told everyone I was sick or cursed.

"Stand up," Prince Louis said.

I rose on shaky legs.

He studied me carefully, his dark eyes moving from my face to my scarred forearms. "Those scars. You've been training yourself to fight."

It wasn't a question. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Who taught you?"

"No one. I found an old practice sword in the abandoned courtyard. I taught myself."

"Why?"

"Because I was tired of being helpless," I said. "Because every time Salma hit me, I wanted to hit back. Because my mother used to tell me stories about warrior queens, and I wanted to be strong like them."

Lady Amara smiled slightly. "The warrior blood runs true."

"Commander," Prince Louis called out. "Clear the courtyard. Everyone out. Now."

The soldiers and advisors left quickly. Soon it was just the three of us.

"Your Highness," Lady Amara said, "if anyone in the city recognizes that mark, we'll have problems. The old families remember. The Temple priests would know what it means."

"I know." Prince Louis turned to me. "Do you understand what you are, Khalifa? You're the last heir of the dynasty that ruled before my family took power. If certain people find out about you, they'll use you to start a war."

"I don't want to start anything. I just want to live."

"It's too late for that. You revealed yourself the moment you came here." He paced across the courtyard, and I noticed him favoring his wounded shoulder. "My brothers are already plotting against me. If Prince Khalid or Prince Nasir finds you, they'll use you as a weapon. They'll say you're the rightful ruler, that my father's dynasty is false. The kingdom will tear itself apart."

"So kill me," I said. "That would solve your problem."

His eyes snapped to mine. "Is that what you think I am? A man who murders girls to keep his throne safe?"

"I don't know what you are."

"Fair enough." He stopped pacing. "I'm not going to kill you. But I can't let you walk around free either. Not with that mark visible. Not with what you heard earlier about the stolen seal and the traitor in my father's court."

"So I'm your prisoner."

"You're under my protection. There's a difference."

"It doesn't feel different."

Lady Amara stepped forward. "Khalifa, the men who attacked the prince last night weren't random bandits. They were organized. Professional. And they asked about a girl with a marked face."

My blood went cold. "What?"

"One of the prince's guards survived long enough to tell us," she continued. "Before he died, he said the attackers kept asking which carriage the marked girl was in. They thought you were traveling with Prince Louis."

"But I wasn't. I've never even left the city."

"They don't know that," Prince Louis said. "Someone told them to look for you. Someone who knows what that mark means."

I touched the crescent on my temple. "Who?"

"That's what we need to find out." He looked at Lady Amara. "Take her upstairs to the private quarters. Find her clean clothes. Keep that mark covered. And don't let anyone else see her."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Lady Amara took my arm gently. "Come with me."

I pulled back. "Wait. My stepmother will notice I'm gone. She'll tell the governor's men."

"Let her," Prince Louis said. "Your stepmother has no power here."

"You don't understand. She'll cause trouble. She'll say I'm a thief or a runaway or..."

"She'll say nothing if she's smart," Lady Amara interrupted. "Because if she draws attention to you, she draws attention to herself. And I suspect she doesn't want anyone investigating how your mother really died."

She was right. Salma would stay quiet to protect herself.

Prince Louis said as we reached the door, "What you overheard earlier. About the stolen seal, about the traitor in my father's court, about my brothers. Can I trust you to keep silent?"

"Can I trust you not to kill me?" I shot back.

He smiled, just barely. "We'll both have to take that risk."

Lady Amara led me through a side door and up a narrow stone staircase. The garrison house was bigger than I'd thought, with multiple levels and winding corridors.

"You're handling this well," she said as we climbed.

"I don't feel like I'm handling anything."

"You're not screaming or fainting. That's better than most." She glanced back at me. "Your mother taught me, you know. Strategy and survival. She was the strongest woman I ever knew."

"You knew her?"

"I was her guard for two years. Before she went into hiding, before she married your father." Her voice softened. "She was a warrior and a princess. She would be proud of you."

We reached a hallway with several wooden doors. She opened one and showed me into a small room with a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below.

"Wait here," Lady Amara said. "I'll bring water and clothes. Don't try to leave."

"Where would I go?"

She started to close the door, then paused. "Khalifa, I need to ask you something. In the past few weeks, has anyone approached you? Asked about your mother or your mark? Anyone unusual?"

I thought back. The market. The spice seller. The baker. Nothing unusual. Wait.

"There was a man," I said slowly. "Maybe two weeks ago. I was buying bread and he bumped into me. He stared at my birthmark. He asked my name."

Lady Amara's expression changed. "What did he look like?"

"Tall. Thin. Gray beard. He wore expensive clothes. A gold chain. And a ring with a red stone."

"A red stone?" Her face went pale. "You're certain?"

"Yes. Why? Who was he?"

"That's the signet ring of House Nasir. Prince Nasir's spy master wears it." She grabbed my shoulders. "This is worse than I thought. If Nasir knows about you, if he's been watching you..."

The window exploded.