**A/N: I had to split this one into two again, so my apologies that Part 2 will be so much shorter! On the bright side...it'll be posted today too :) As always, please give a vote and a comment if you enjoyed it!**

The "safe place" that Frederico had mentioned turned out to be a tavern swathed in the branching tree sigil of the Carvalho family, in a village buried in the depths of a gnarled old forest. When we'd ridden deeper and deeper, I'd begun to wonder about where the crown prince was taking me, especially if my knowledge of Ardalonian geography proved correct. The only ancient forests in the country were towards their northeastern borders with Vareinne, in the domain of the Duque Delbosque. I'd assumed we'd be headed south, towards the next largest port city, Vallona, where the prince would likely have allies among the nobility. Vallona, after all, was the seat of the Duque Delmar, one of the late king's closest allies.

Instead, we'd ridden into the Carvalho lands, which was surprising only because the Duque Delbosque was not nearly as powerful or rich as the Duque Delmar. But then again, the familiar way the barkeep waved Rafael up the tavern stairs to the room above had me guessing that the second eldest Carvalho son might just be Frederico's second-in-command.

Or third, I corrected myself, since the prince seemed the type to name his murderous sister as his second.

A pair of burly men in dark cloaks moved from their spot at the bar to flank the front door when we reached the stairs, others strategically placed around the relatively empty tavern. I couldn't help but wonder whether said emptiness was thanks to the early hour or the cloaked men. Either way, it was clearly a far safer place to stop and rest than our makeshift campsite from the night before.

"You should eat something and wash up," Rafael said, barely slowing as we climbed the stairs. "I'm sure Frederico will have you attended to once we reach..."

He trailed off, glancing back over his shoulder at me before clearing his throat.

"Once we reach where?" I demanded, my temper still simmering over Frederico's idiotic battlefield commands.

"I should let His Highness tell you that," Rafael said, pushing open a door and gesturing me through. "I'll have them send up food. The washbasin should be clean."

I said nothing, surveying my surroundings as I listened for Rafael's departure. When the door closed behind him, I hurried over to it, pressing my good ear against the wood in an effort to deduce where the prince and princess were.

I needn't have bothered.

Ardal voices carried through the thin walls, from the room one door to the right. I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but I recognized the even, measured tempo of Frederico's voice and the sharp, annoyed clip of his sister's, the pair of them replying to Rafael's baritone. Deciding that I needed to sort out my thoughts before I unleashed my temper on the crown prince, I set to attending my injuries.

Turning my attention to the cracked mirror and decidedly pristine washbasin, I re-examined my throbbing ear. Sure enough, a chunk of flesh had been sliced from the tip, leaving a crusty, clotted notch where there had once been a rather elegant curve. It seared in protest when I dared to touch a cloth to it, wiping away the battlefield dirt. As I cleaned it, it began to look even worse, torn in such a way that the edges would never line up properly, even if a healer attempted to sew it closed.

Mother and Anne would be horrified, I thought with a snort. Though an injured ear was a small price to pay for having survived my first battlefield.

I was hissing with pain, scrubbing the last of the dirt from my wound, when a barmaid appeared, all but dropping the tray of food on the wobbling wooden table before disappearing again, like a mouse darting back into its hole. The smell tore me away from the bloodied washbasin, stifling my curses with the plate of eggs, toast, and sausages.

Next door, the voices had dropped, just two of them conversing now. As I ate, the pain in my ear radiated through the side of my head, helping to galvanize my resolve for what I planned to do next. Patting my face with my napkin, I left the room before I succumbed to the blooming headache.

I didn't wait for my knock to be answered, throwing open the door to reveal the royal twins, their conversation dying when I strode in.

"Did they never teach you about battlefield etiquette during your years in Vareinne?" I demanded, quickly assessing the room as I sauntered in. The twins were alone, Frederico pacing, while Beatriz was in the middle of sewing up her bloody arm. My stomach rose at the sight of it, forcing me to swallow and look at Frederico instead.

"Shall I show him out?" Beatriz asked her brother. "It would be my absolute pleasure." Her fingers twisted as she tied off the stitches holding her arm closed, her eyes on me the whole time. Before her, on the table matching the one I'd eaten on in my room, was a spread of healer's equipment, some of the sinister-looking instruments speckled with fresh blood.

"I think he's had enough battle for one day," Frederico said, eyeing my mangled ear.

"You both know that I can understand you," I snapped, but all that earned me was a chuckle from Beatriz as she turned her attention back to her arm, slathering on a foul-smelling poultice before wrapping it in a bandage.

"I am very familiar with battlefield etiquette," Frederico said, stepping in front of me and forcing me to tear my angry gaze from his sister. "Perhaps you should sit down so we-"

"You killed the soldiers for their uniforms and their horses, but now that I've seen your little hideout, it's clear you could've taken prisoners," I said, fixing the crown prince with my best glare. "You are a fool, Frederico, and you're going to lose this war because of it."

For the first time since I'd met him, the prince's dark eyes flared with anger, quickly stifled by his training, but not quite quick enough for me to miss it. I'd touched a nerve, telling him that he was going to fail. Excellent.

"As if you know anything of war," Frederico scoffed, glancing up at my ear before turning away to resume his pacing.

"I know that when survivors beg for mercy, it must be granted," I continued, folding my arms. "Do you think the Vareinnians will be happy to learn that you violated one of their most sacred laws of battle?"

Frederico paused, glancing back over his shoulder at me.

"Whoever said anything about Vareinnians?" he demanded, exchanging a look with Beatriz. She simply shrugged, now crushing a handful of leaves and flowers with a mortar and pestle. The room filled with a sweet, spicy scent as the prince turned to face me.

"We are in the middle of a forest, a very old one at that. The only forests in Ardalone are nestled up against the Vareinnian borders. I remember what Dulciana said at dinner," I said, with a pointed glance at his bare ring finger. "And since I was told we were going somewhere safe, I can only assume that place is either the seat of the Duque Delbosque or wherever your Vareinnian wife hails from."

Silence blanketed the room, Beatriz pausing to turn and fix me with a look that was equal parts wary and impressed. Frederico, however, was losing the battle to his temper, his face clouded with anger.

"You are a quick study, I'll grant you that," he said, knitting his hands behind his back, "But you are in Ardalone, not Pretania. I do not answer to you and you have no right to-"

"You need me as an ally," I interrupted, "Therefore it is well within my rights for me to question your foolish decisions and demand to know where, exactly, you are taking me."

"Easy, brother," Beatriz mumbled when Frederico's knuckles cracked, his fists balling behind his back.

"Unless, of course, you plan on holding me as a hostage and ransoming me back to my father," I continued, bolstered by Beatriz's warning. It meant that I was succeeding in riling Frederico. If I'd learned anything from studying Andrew and his infuriating control of his emotions, it was that the only way to glean the truth was to rile him past his breaking point, thus ushering forth a tide of information that would never have come if his emotions remained in check.

"If that is your intent, then you should know that my father will be none to happy when I'm returned as damaged goods," I said, gesturing to my injured ear. "I may not be his favourite son, but you risked spilling my royal blood on a battlefield. He'll be even less pleased to learn how I was treated at the hand of your sister."

"She saved-!" Frederico began.

"Frederico," Beatriz barked, interrupting him. The prince's jaw set, his sister's words hauling him back into control of his rising anger.

"I told you he was going to be more trouble than he's worth," Beatriz said, setting down her mortar and pestle to lean back in her chair and survey me, no longer impressed. "If this is how he treats allies, we can make do without Pretan-"

Frederico silenced her with a gesture, cold calculation in his eyes as he surveyed me. No, I hadn't transgressed far enough for him to be done with me yet. Either that, or his cause needed Pretania far more than his sister seemed to know. I filed that knowledge away as I held the prince's gaze.

"You are not my prisoner and you are free to leave whenever you please," he said, waving towards the door, "But while your knowledge of Ardalonian geography is impressive, do not assume that it will be enough to help you flee home. My sister's men are scouring the country for you, so she can finish what she started in that brothel in Lower Relizia. I am your only hope of survival, but that will only remain true so long as you obey me."

I wrested down my smile. It seemed that Andrew and Frederico were indeed cut from the same cloth. I'd challenged his authority and his decisions, so now he was throwing his rank and power around to subdue me. Rather than submit to his veiled threat, I did the one thing that I knew would infuriate him.

I laughed.

"You are a prince without a throne. I may be a foreigner in a strange land, but I have the full force of the Pretanian crown behind me. If you leave me to your sister, your rebellion is as good as dead, for my father will never rally to help you," I said, pausing to let my barbs sink in. "You need me, Frederico, more than I need you. Stop being a petulant princeling and start thinking like a king. I'd be more than happy to help you with that, if you'd start trusting me."

Frederico's nostrils flared as I readied myself for the verbal lashing that would precede the revelation of all that he'd been keeping from me. But, to my eternal surprise, rather than rise to my bait, the prince pressed his eyes closed, inhaling before opening them again.

Gone. His anger and frustration and all the temper that I'd tried to stoke in an attempt to bend him to my will, all gone. The neutral, stone-faced expression of a king met me, annoyance the only remnant of the firestorm of emotions he'd been displaying mere moments before. Disappointment deflated my temper, annoyed and frustrated that I'd failed at a game I'd always excelled at back home in Pretania.

"Tend to his ear and rest up. We leave in the morning," Frederico said over his shoulder to Beatriz.

He stalked from the room without so much as a parting glance my way.