Chapter Twenty-Two
Valeris
The fourth ball, to put it nicely, was more boring than watching grass grow.
Nothing exciting ever happened here. Everyone ooed and ahhed at the elaborate food and decorations, but the gist of the ball was that everyone sat in circles, joined different groups, and talked to one another all night telling bold stories.
A way to find your posse, so to speak. Learn someone’s darkest secrets and figure out what they were really made of.
And it was all a load of crap.
Everything people spewed from their mouths was diseased with lies, an attempt to make them look better than they really were. The only reason anyone attended was to tell tall tales. I’d had fun five years ago, but my time for spinning fantastic tales was over.
I searched the room lit only by candles and moonlight, taking note of the people I knew but not finding anyone I cared to talk to. The dim surroundings created a ghostly atmosphere that amplified the mystery of it all.
I threw a longing look at the pastry tray that passed me but didn’t dare take any.
Uncle Wylan had busied himself determining whether anyone else knew our prisoner, but he had yet to discover anything of interest. He was convinced she hadn’t acted alone and was only one part of a larger operation.
I was convinced she had ventured too far into the realm of stupidity.
Slipping a love potion into the glass of a royal family member?
Everyone knew those didn’t work. They were a waste of coin scammed off desperate souls.
I had never found myself in that predicament, but from what I had heard, they were little more than water with added coloring.
My smile froze on my face.
They were little more than water with added coloring.
If she had tried to slip him a fraudulent love potion, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. Color had no odor and would mix in with the punch or wine, and an extra few drops of water wouldn’t draw attention.
But my uncle could tell someone had tampered with his drink. Which meant—
Which meant more than a love potion had been inside his glass.
I scanned the packed room, looking for my uncle but not finding him. There was one other person I hadn’t seen here tonight. Odd. I maneuvered my way to the outer hall and approached the palace entrance where they kept the list of attendees.
“Sir,” I said to the scribe on duty, “has an Analleia Kallistar entered the ball tonight?”
He frowned, bushy gray eyebrows drawing together as he flipped through the thick list of names on his pad.
“Ana—” His finger rifled through the names, stopping about halfway down. “No, she brought no invitation for the ball tonight.”
I dipped my head in thanks then slipped out into the front courtyard, ghosting across the lawn to the gates.
“Where are you going?” Howland’s footsteps were near silent.
“I need to check on something. You’re free to join me.”
Sometimes I liked to pretend he had a choice.
Analleia should’ve been there tonight. We had a bargain, and I had bet she was cunning enough to make a picture out of our puzzle even with several pieces missing.
Silence greeted me as I stepped into the Ferris Way Inn, most of its guests attending the ball. The clerk jerked as he recognized me, dipping into a bow as I flew past him. I groaned at the sight of the stairs, remembering how many floors I would have to climb.
“You shouldn’t be out in the city without a proper security detail, Valeris,” Howland said.
I shrugged. “Everyone thinks I’m at the ball. Why would anyone look for me here?”
He didn’t argue, and I smirked. Strings of wretched words barreled through my mind as I neared the sixth floor, winded from the quick climb. Annoyingly, Howland showed no signs of exertion.
“How do you stay in better shape than me?” I asked.
“It’s my job, Your Highness.”
I frowned back at him before knocking on Analleia’s door.
Silence.
I knocked again, louder this time.
Nothing.
I pressed my ear against the wood and listened for sounds of movement within but heard nothing. All remained quiet.
“Do you have a pair of lock pins?” I asked.
Howland acted offended.
“I know you have them,” I said. “You’ve broken into more than one room I’ve locked myself inside.”
“Your Highness.” His voice lowered. “You do realize this is breaking and entering?”
I shrugged. “What’s the use of being a prince if I can’t make my own rules every now and then?”
“I don’t believe this is safe.”
“The pins, Howland.” I turned impatient. “I’ll let you enter the room first if it makes you feel better.”
He ensured I knew he didn’t like my plan but handed me the pins all the same.
I knelt in front of the door, studying the keyhole before setting to work.
I had spent my childhood breaking into and out of rooms, sometimes needing a place to hide.
Less than twenty seconds later I heard a click then turned the handle.
I backed away, extending my arm for Howland.
“All yours.”
He threw me a disapproving look before entering, thoroughly examining the suite before allowing me inside. Nothing appeared changed from the last time I had been in here. The flowers I had gifted her were still on display, although they were now wilted.
“Your—”
I held a finger to my lips, silencing Howland.
A night breeze flipped through the open window, leaving a chill in the air. I studied the room, careful to leave everything exactly as it had been. Nothing jumped out at me, but I did notice the lack of personal belongings. The only thing they seemed to possess was fancy attire.
I checked the three bedrooms, feeling like I was going too far in invading their privacy but needing to know all the same. One of the bedrooms belonged to a man, but women had occupied the other two, the one on the left appearing as if it had been rifled through.
Where was Analleia if she wasn’t at the ball tonight?
Something glinted on the low table, and I swiped my hand across the top, coming away with the remnants of a powder. I lifted the substance to my nose, but it gave no odor.
So I tasted it.
Howland cried out in alarm, rushing forward. I ignored him. It couldn’t have been more than a grain, but there was no texture or taste. It wasn’t dust. Something had been prepared on this surface.
My eyes drifted through the open bedroom door, landing on Analleia’s punch-stained dress from when the waiter had crashed into her, and she had knocked Uncle Wylan into—
The thought paralyzed me.
Could it be possible?
Every image from last night paraded through my head, fit into the border of the puzzle I was building. She had brought up my uncle in conversation, but had that been coincidence or intentional?
“What is it?” Howland’s voice sounded like it was far away.
I cocked my head, forming the theory. “I think I know where she is.”