“They need time to cook it, princess.” Gytha leaned back on her elbows, crossing her ankles.

“I’m not a princess.”

“Yet.”

Reid let the comment slide. She carefully opened her bag, making sure the note remained at the bottom along with that blasted pawn from her chess set. Really, what had Ackley been thinking? She went to pull out her pants and tunic, only she couldn’t find either. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Gytha said. “Who are we going to kill?”

Annoyed, Reid set her bag aside. “No one.” She rubbed her face, wondering when Ackley had managed to remove the pants from her bag. All that she had in there was another ridiculous dress. Did he have any idea how hard it was to travel in something so impractical?

“Too bad. I would have enjoyed that.” Gytha knelt on her bedroll. “It’s probably time to eat.”

“I’ll be there shortly. I need a moment alone.”

“Whatever.” Gytha left the tent.

Grabbing her bag, Reid opened it again and pulled out the note from Ackley. On the outside, he’d written—Your next assignment. She unfolded the paper, her hands shaking as she did.

Gain Prince Dexter’s trust. Find out where he goes at night. Discover who Henrick has declared his heir. All correspondence is to go through the bookstore where you bought the map.

Well, her assignment certainly wasn’t what she’d thought it would be. The first part—gaining Dexter’s trust—would be impossible. But the rest shouldn’t be too hard. Reid refolded the paper, needing to get rid of it. A thought suddenly occurred to her. Who was in charge of the Knights? She’d assumed Ackley was the leader of the elusive group. However, he’d told her he was part of the group. He’d even revealed he’d been recruited. So, who was in charge? Who determined her assignments?

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she needed to eat. Rising, she shoved the paper down the front of her dress, hiding it below her bosom before she exited the tent. At least she had boots on. Otherwise, she would have murdered Ackley.

Outside, the soldiers sat around a fire, eating. She scanned their faces, noting the absence of Dexter and Gytha.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be joining us,” Markis said, approaching Reid with a plate of food.

He offered it to her, and she took it with a murmured thanks. “I was hoping to change.”

“Why didn’t you?” He glanced at her dress, making a strange face.

When he sat, she knelt beside him. Instead of answering his question, she took a bite of the meat on her plate.

“Aren’t you going to ask where the commander is?” Markis whispered.

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“You’re not curious where your fiancé is?”

“He is not my fiancé by choice.”