Page 6 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Prince Cade lost all the color from his cheeks, stumbling back a step.

“What is he talking about, Cade?” Cypress asked, keeping her sword pointed at the male beneath her boot.

“Bring him to the castle. The King can deal with him.”

“Cade, you can’t be serious. He’s just a thief!”

“Do as I said,” Prince Cade ordered, turning his face away from Cypress.

“This is ridiculous, let's just throw him in a cell-” Cypress started.

“I saidfollow your orders, Captain.” Prince Cade growled, making Cypress snap her spine straight.

“Of course, Sir,” Cypress muttered, gathering a length of rope from the floor, her mind reeling. Then she quickly bound the thief–Torren’s– arms, and then used another length to wrap around his middle, binding his arms tight to his chest. Then, she shouted, "Lieutenant Oswald!”

Cypress took a breath, settling into her character. As her second, Oswald knew Cypress's face and her true identity as Captain Cy. Still, she was always addressed as Lady Cypress while in plain clothes.

Under the helmet, though, she was Captain Cy.

“Yes, Lady Cypress?” Lieutenant Oswald said, poking their head through the entryway to Prince Cade’s tent.

“Fetch my horse. We are to supervise this prisoner’s transport to the King.”

“Of course, Lady Cypress. Follow me, we’ll get you a mount,” Lieutenant Oswald replied, nodding his head in deference, and bent to collect the tail end of the rope Cypress used to bind Torren.

Then, he collected Torren’s discarded great sword. Oswald tugged the thief to his feet with little effort and strode out of the room with Torren stumbling after him.

Oswald was a large man, thick and barrel-chested, though he was rather short for a knight. Like Cypress, most of the Guard stood at about six feet or above, with well-developed muscles fit to carry the weight of their armor. Oswald was shorter than her, but not by much.

Compared to Torren, the would-be thief, though, Cypress and Oswald were bothsmall.

The thief did not have the musculature of Oswald or any of her knights, but from their duel and the deft way he swung his great sword, Cypress knew his clothing hid a fit physique.

The male was a mystery, as much as the words he’d uttered to Cade to make him blanch.

She’d known Prince Cade for several years now– nearly half her life, but she'd never seen him blanch quite like that.

Cypress had been selected from the orphanage to spar with the Prince at the age of sixteen, but their friendship had happened of its own accord over the years. Even then, as a young girl, Cypress had felt the burning embers of somethinghungryin her belly.

Sparring with the Prince, at first, had been just a stepping stone to power. To raise herself out of the rubble that was the orphanage, and her unclear heritage.

When Cypress was knighted at twenty, it was done under the cover of darkness, with the King’s blessing.

After her knighting, Cypress served as Prince Cade’s personal guard for a time, then rose to be Captain of the guard. She had served at the Prince’s side for these last twelve summers and became arguably, one of, if not the only person, Prince Cade was close to or confided in.

In all that time, never once hadanyoneuttered the name Torren.

A groom handed Cypress the reins to her other mare, Seren. This one had a finer boning than Ember the warhorse, but she was still an incredible animal. Seren’s sooty buckskin coat was much more suitable for a Lady of the court, and much less recognizable than the white of Ember.

Cypress didn’t have much of a preference between the two animals, as they both served their purposes; however, few things grated at Cypress’s patience more than having topretendto be frail and dependent on the menfolk like the ladies at court did.

Nonetheless, Cypress allowed the groom to assist her mount, settling astride Seren with little effort. Then, she arranged the layers of her now-ripped skirt while she waited for Lieutenant Oswald to mount his horse.

Torren was left to walk behind the pair of horses, the rope stretched taut between him and the pommel of Oswald’s saddle.

4

Birthright