บททั้งหมดของ Alpha Prince's Little Dagger : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

ASTRIDThe colorful marketplace outside of Mooncrest Castle has been busier than usual today, with guests streaming in from all corners of Phaegia to attend Prince Cassius’s wedding.Typically, this would be a boon to my sticky-fingered business, but with the crowds come even more guards. They’ve been vigilant as ravens all morning.The castle looms up like a dark mountain. Even its shadow cannot eclipse the chaotic excitement of the packed bazaar.Every which way are stalls draped in bolts of bright fabric, stalls laid out with pots of fragrant spice, stalls hocking the lowest prices on horseshoes, on fresh eggs, on mulled wine.“A pretty bracelet for your pretty wrist!” an older woman calls through the scramble of voices, her wares winking in the early morning sunlight.If I could afford it, I want to tell her, pulling the hood of my cloak up and over my halo of dark curls, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.I’m exhausted, but I can’t justify calling it a day just yet. I’ve bare

ASTRIDThe gag in my mouth tastes of dry sweat, the burlap sack over my head rough against my cheek.The collar around my neck is so tight I can barely breathe, but the guards don’t care. They drag me out of my cell and down the hall at a clipped pace. I have to half-run just to keep up.Every time I stumble, some metal bit on my collar jingles.“Step up,” one of the guards orders, his hand rough on my arm.I obey blindly.My foot finds the floor—and another guard shoves me hard from behind. I pitch forward, my hands catching against smooth, cold bars. I grope around them and realize the bars encircle me completely.I’m in a cage.The cage lurches forward. I grab the bars and fighting to stay upright, my stomach churning.Is this how they transport defendants to trial?It doesn’t feel right.A few minutes later, doors creak open. The stale air freshens, and I can smell the lush decay of leaves turning on their trees. We’ve left the Tower of Justice. Which makes no sense. The courtroom

ASTRIDA successful pickpocket isn’t only quick of touch; we’re also light of foot.We have to be.Hopping a fence or scaling a wall are invaluable evasion skills, especially against bulky werewolf guards.They have strength, and they have stamina, but they lack stealth. They’re simply too big.I’m praying that they’re also too big to try and climb the tree I’m perched in.Attempting to outrun a werewolf in wolf form is suicide. But I just might be able to out-wait them.My tunic, leggings, and boots are all a dusty black from too many washes—an advantage in the quickly darkening evening sky.Just one thing left to do.So long as this collar stays around my neck, the bell is a liability, able to give me away with the slightest movement.Under the cover of the werewolf’s song—an eerie, ecstatic howl of an ode to Prince Cassius—I reach down into my boot, pull out my knife, and slice right through the leather collar.It’s so tight, I nearly slice into my neck as well.Clutched tight in m

ASTRIDJust like that, I’m inside of MoonCrest Castle for the very first time.A place I never imagined I would step foot if I’m honest. Gyles leads me into some sort of dressing chamber, where maids hurriedly rid me of my stinking tunic, leggings, and boots and wrap me in a cream-colored robe.It’s a relief, not being crusted in sweat and dirt and blood. But it’s also unnerving, seeing the last traces of my former life vanish in a snap.The room I’m in is small but lush, a velvet fainting couch in one corner, an ornate privacy screen in the other, woven from what looks like silk.The stone floor is covered in a thick bearskin rug. I wonder if the Ashton pack itself took the animal down.As I’m surveying my surroundings, the door opens.I whip around, assuming a fighting stance. I don’t need my knife to throw a wicked right hook.But the man who walks into the room, who appears to be in his mid-thirties and well assured of his own importance, simply raises a brow at me, as if to ask w

ASTRIDTwo maids guide me through a maze of corridors, twisting and turning so frequently I can’t help but suspect they’re trying to confuse me.Finally, we arrive at a large wooden door inlaid with silver. One of the maids knocks, waits a second, and then grasps the handle, carved to resemble a wolf’s head. When we enter the bedchamber, it’s empty.“The prince will be with you shortly,” the maid says, keeping her head bowed.“Wait,” I say as they file out, but they don’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken.And then, for the first time since Luca returned home with Rodolfo’s coin pouch earlier today—was that really only a few hours earlier?—I’m alone.Cayden’s room is somehow opulent and sparse at once: Sheets of the finest silk flow like molten silver across a basic, four-poster bed. An armory of exquisite swords hangs on walls that are otherwise bare.Steaming platters of gourmet food are set atop a plain wooden table.Those platters catch my attention and hold it. I haven’t eaten si