Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Iwas escorted by a soldier back to my room. The prince surely had better things to do, and I didn’t argue, as I didn’t yet know my way around the palace. I was also still a little shaky from my encounter with the practitioner, so I didn’t mind having, at least temporarily, my own bodyguard.
The soldier opened the door and waited until I was inside. “The prince has business, but food will be brought to you.”
“Thank you,” I said with a nod. He closed it again, and I listened for the snick of a lock, but there was only the sound of his footsteps receding down the hallway.
I locked it from the inside, then leaned back against it and looked around the room that would be my temporary home…and realized someone had been in here since I’d been taken to the bath.
My boots and the coin pouch were still on the small side table. When I hefted the latter, I found it heavier than it had been before. A handful of gold coins, shiny and clean, waited inside it. Payment, I assumed, for staying in the palace.
There were other changes, too. Curtains had been pushed back to reveal a bit of the palace grounds and a high gazebo beside a gleaming lake.
A new pile of blankets and furs was draped across the end of the bed.
A golden vase reflected the slanting afternoon light in one corner beside a beautiful chair, the wood entirely carved with animals—including a fox curled beneath a flowering tree.
And on the opposite wall, an enormous embroidered tapestry nearly reached all the way to the ceiling and stretched from one glass window to the other.
He must have asked them to do this when I’d agreed to stay—to add these things to make it feel more comfortable. I didn’t want that; it weakened the wall I was desperately trying to build.
I sat down on the bed and ran my fingers across the silk blanket. How was I supposed to get used to this? And when this strange dream was over, how was I supposed to return to my usual life?
There was a knock at the door, and I rose to answer it, expecting to find someone with a tray. I didn’t know when I’d last eaten.
I unlocked the door. There was a tray, but Wren was the one holding it, wearing her usual wry expression, but with relief obvious in her eyes. Galen and the prince stood behind her.
Wren’s eyes went wide. “You’re wearing a dress.”
“Hello to you, too. I’m wearing the garment I was offered.”
“It’s lovely,” the prince said. “You look lovely.” And even if he’d said it only to be polite, there was no mistaking the appreciation in his eyes.
Wren sneered and moved inside. I took the tray before she tossed it at him, carried it to the side table, and pulled a chunk from a round of brown bread. “Sorry, but I think I haven’t eaten in a very long time.”
“Eat,” the prince said as Galen closed the door.
I nodded, chewing the best bread I’d ever had. It was so good that I immediately swore never to tell Nheve that I’d tasted it; the comparison would be unfair.
Wren looked around the room, then at me. And moved closer. “How are you feeling?”
“Weak.” I held up the bread. “Working on it.”
“You look pale,” she murmured, then pulled a small wooden box from her tunic. “I know there was Aether, but I wasn’t sure what other remedies you might need, so I brought a few things.”
I swallowed. “Thank you.” There was a small jar of wine on the tray she’d carried in. I took a sip, then offered it to her.
She sniffed, sipped, and lifted a shoulder. “Not as good as Savaadh’s.”
“It’s the best in Carethia,” Galen said.
“That’s not the compliment you think it is,” Wren said.
Galen’s lip curled impressively. “I don’t like you.”
“Then it’s two against one,” Wren said. “We don’t like you either.” As I dipped a spoon into a stew of meat and vegetables, Wren dismissed Galen with a look that might have sliced open a weaker man. Then she turned to the prince. “The Lady said you’re paying her to let Fox stay here.”
“It was the easiest way to get permission.”
“She loves coin,” Wren agreed. “But the practitioner still wants to kill you. What’s your security?”
“Other than the forty-foot wall?” The prince’s voice was dry.
“And if the practitioner uses possessed humans to get inside?” Wren asked.
“He’d need an army,” the prince said.
“You had an entire army in the market,” Wren pointed out, “and Innis still made it to the carriages.”
“They didn’t yet know a possessed human was a potential threat. Now they do. If he made it past the gate, there are dozens of guards before he’d get to me, and they’d sound the alarm.” He glanced at me. “Let’s not forget who bested him the first time—or that she’s now one of my people.”
“I’m not one of your people,” I said, swallowing stew. “I’m one of my people, and you’re giving me coin. And you’re right. The practitioner doesn’t have the people to get in here. Yet.”
“Yet?” Galen asked.
“He wants to build that army he’ll need, and he tried to recruit me. He hoped I had Aetheric skills that I obviously don’t. But I survived his test, so he says he’s still interested.”
Wren walked to the window and looked out. “Soldiers are posted all day and night?”
“And there will be a guard on Fox’s door,” the prince said.
Wren looked back at him. “Like the one you put on the manor.”
“I asked for that,” I said, rising and giving the prince a warning look. It was mostly true, anyway. “The practitioner knows my name now; Jonas came looking for me and was very loud about it.”
“Jonas?” the prince asked.
“The person who gave away my position.”
“You didn’t mention it was a man. Or that his name was Jonas.”
“He’s the farrier’s son,” Wren said with a glint in her eyes. “He has a thing for Fox.”
“He has a thing for anyone with—for women,” I corrected, thinking “tits” was probably not a word to be spoken in a palace. I was going to have to watch myself in here.
“Not the point,” I continued. “He called my name, and the practitioner heard it. Not a lot of girls named Fox in the stronghold, so he’ll probably be able to find the Lady’s manor. And he could send someone to look for me…or you.”
Wren looked at the prince, disdain dripping from her expression. “This started the moment you arrived.”
“Wren,” I warned, but Galen stepped up to her first.
“Watch your tone when speaking to His Highness.”
The look she gave him—pure dismissal—might’ve melted a lesser man where he stood. Galen didn’t even blink.
“My tone was factual, and nothing I said was wrong.”
He took a step forward. “You will show respect.”
“I’ll show it when he earns it.” And her voice carried a strong tone of “and he never will.”
Galen’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know him.”
“I know his type. Born into money and power, so they don’t care how others live.”
“You don’t know him,” Galen said again. “But you’ve made a judgment based on how he was born. Is that any different?”
Wren made a sound of deep disdain. “Of course it’s different—”
“Enough,” the prince said. The word wasn’t loud, but it was forceful enough to have them dragging their gazes away from each other.
He waited a moment until they were calmer. “We’re on the same side,” he said, “and it’s time you both admit that. This is going to get worse before it gets better, and we’re going to need each other to survive.”
Neither of them responded.
“Good,” the prince said, and settled his gaze on Wren. “I told Fox that you can visit whenever you’d like. Try not to start a riot while you’re here.”
Wren’s smile was thin. “I promise to try.”
“In that case, we’ll leave you to catch up.” He looked at me, his gaze lingering for longer than it ought to have. “Carry your token with you.”
I nodded, and they left us alone.
She waited until the heavy door was closed and the footsteps faded away. “I told you not to go wandering around.”
I told Wren the entire story, from my stupid beginning to the painful end, including the marks across my chest. Whatever Talia had put in the bath had helped, but Wren insisted on daubing a cooling balm across it, and that helped numb the sting.
When she’d put the balm away again, we sat quietly for a moment.
“Are you really okay with this?” she asked.
“No. I don’t want to rely on a Lys’Careth. And I don’t want to live in a prison.”
“Then let’s walk out of here. He can still keep a guard on the manor. We’ll just have to be careful.”
“Wren, I’m not sure I’d survive another fight with the practitioner.”
“It was that bad?”
When I nodded, she swore and wrapped her arms around me, like her strength might be enough to protect me from harm.
“What token did the prince give you?”
I pulled it from my pocket and showed it to her.
She took it and turned it over in her hand. “Oh, the fun we could have.” The words were a whisper, and there was plenty of longing in them.
“There’s a treasury,” I agreed. “But he asked me not to go in there. I told him I was a thief.”
Her gaze snapped up to mine. “What? Why would you do that?”
“So I don’t get too comfortable here. Or with him.” I looked at her. “He says he wants to be a different kind of prince.” I glanced up at her. “You think that’s possible for a Lys’Careth?”
“He’s not a complete arsehole. But royals have rules; he’d have to break a lot of them.”
“I’ll tell you the entire story when Luna gets here”—because I was certain she’d come—“but I think the practitioner would have tried to kill whichever prince came through the gate. And another prince may not have cared if I survived.”
“It’s a big, fucked-up circle,” Wren said. “You kill people to take the throne, and then you’re the target of assassination. How is that worth the trouble?”
“I don’t think it is, but then no one’s dangled a crown in front of me. That probably makes a difference.” I held up the token. “I’m excited about the possibility of seeing a crown—full of shining gemstones.”
She made a sound of agreement and looked me over. “At least he cleaned you up.”
I slipped an arm into hers. “Come eat some cakes and let me tell you about the royal bath.”