The Fading Dream Read Online Free Page B

have guessed the difference. Gal had mastered Oargev’s cocky smile, his confident stride, even the way he wore his crown just a little cocked. And he’d even worked in the tension Thorn had noted in the prince, the faraway look in his eyes.
    Footmen helped the false prince into the carriage. Guards took their posts, and a few cavalry soldiers spread out in front and behind. The great gates were opened, and the coach rolled out onto the streets of Wroat.
    Those who followed were less remarkable. A group of servants loaded a few casks and crates on the smaller wagon. Smiling, Essyn Cadrel made an elaborate gesture, and his clothes shifted and changed. He was no doppelganger, but as a bard, he’d learned a trick or two with illusions. Within seconds he was a little younger, a little plumper, with clothes suited to a middle-class merchant, not ostentatious enough to stand out, but prosperous enough to possibly have business at the castle. Three footmen helped him into the coach and followed him up.Only the keenest of watchers would have recognized the youngest member of the trio as Prince Oargev himself and the others as King’s Shields.
    Thorn took her place on the back of the coach. Jovi mounted a lean, gray mare and took point. Then the coachman cracked his whip and the carriage rumbled forward, out onto the streets of the Lower Crescent.

    If you ask me, we’re running from the prince’s own fears
.
    “I don’t recall asking.” Thorn held Steel tight against her inner arm, hidden by the baggy sleeves of her gray blouse.
    It’s been four years since the Mourning. His people are still scattered, confined to ghettos and resettlement camps
.
    The coach bounced on a misplaced cobblestone, and Thorn tightened her grip on the rail. She kept her eyes on the crowds milling around the edge of the streets, but no one seemed to be paying any mind to the merchant carriage. “And he blames himself.”
    Exactly. We know there are militant Cyran factions out there. Dannel’s Wrath attacked the Lyrandar shipyards in Stormreach a month ago, promising it will get worse until the Cyrans receive new lands. But in their statements they’ve never even mentioned Oargev
.
    “So he’s afraid that his people blame him … and equally afraid that they just don’t care.”
    Precisely
.
    There was a glint of metal in the crowd, a blur of motion. Thorn shifted Steel into a throwing grip. There! A halfling with a tiny blade in one hand and a leather purse in the other. He was ducking between the legs of the crowd. Thorn’s thoughts raced, evaluating the little man’s path and speed. A cutpurse, or so it seemed; a woman in the crowd was already waving her arms.Likely it was just random chance that was bringing him toward the wagon, and Thorn wasn’t paid to take on the duties of the City Watch. But there was no telling what might be hidden in that pouch, and it seemed as if his path would take him directly under their carriage.
    The moment the halfling broke from the crowd, Thorn threw Steel. It was a sound blow, and the pommel of the black dagger struck the cutpurse directly on the bridge of his nose. He dropped the pouch and staggered backward, blood dripping from his broken nose. The crowd descended on the thief, and a watchman pushed his way toward the halfling. There’s one good deed for the day, Thorn thought. Steel flew back to her hand. She caught him and nearly dropped him; his psychic cry was as shocking as a blow.
    Western inn! Second floor! Magical attack!
    Thorn acted without thought. She could see a gleam of light from the corner of her eye, but there was no time to throw Steel again. Grabbing the railing, she flung herself around the edge of the coach, placing the body of the carriage between her and the enemy. She was reaching for the door when the blast came. Her skin tingled and the world was filled with flame and screams of pain. Broiling wind washed over her, threatening to fling her from the carriage. But she kept