Chapter 32
Aster
“Are you sure about this?” Reva murmurs to me from beneath her thick hood. “You can still back out if you want to.”
I shake my own hooded head, swamped by the material and already sweating.
“I’m sure.” I straighten my hood for the third time in as many minutes, ignoring the nerves bubbling up in my gut.
I’ve tried my hardest to close off my side of the bond, so Reva’s not bombarded with emotions from all sides, but I’m not sure how effective I’ve been.
There are three of us striding up the steep hill toward the palace, while Torin and Kit follow a little way behind. All three of us are once again dressed in our thick robes and it’s hard going where we have to kick the thick material out of the way to take a full step.
The plan is ballsy, but fairly straightforward.
Torin and Kit will head inside the palace, right into the belly of the beast itself.
Torin will head to the king’s office to find any records of the labs or of the crew and destroy them, while Kit’s plan is to curse as much of the palace floors as he can reach.
He wants to make it impossible for the king to tread a single step without stumbling into one.
All Kit and Torin have is to get in, do what they need to do, and get out.
Both of them have details on the inside of the palace and of the king’s private chambers, as well as his secretary’s office.
All the information we have is thanks to Finch’s fan club here in the city and a particularly nasty invasion of spider demons last year, which meant that a lot of beast-borne people went into the palace on pest control duty.
Surprisingly, the place isn’t filled with wards or other magical security measures and instead the king seems to be relying entirely on his massive crew of guards to protect the palace.
All the rest of us need to do is cause a large enough disturbance that neither Kit nor Torin get caught, while avoiding getting arrested ourselves.
And, considering the sheer number of staff we’ve been informed work inside the palace, not to mention the guards that are stationed right around the wrought iron fence that’s twice my height, our job isn’t going to be easy.
I pull sachets of powder from my pocket and pass one over to her, having handed more to the others already. Inside is a little concoction I brewed up in our hotel bathroom last night. One quick puff into the face of anyone who approaches and they should grow befuddled.
That’s the hope, anyway. It’s something I’ve never even considered making before, and I’m praying to the godless skies that it works.
The palace is right at the top of a hill, looking down at a busy street, but up here the only people seem to be the palace staff, which eases some of the anxiety clawing at my chest.
“I’m having terrible visions of us blowing this stuff into their faces and nothing happening,” I mutter.
Reva reaches out and squeezes my hand before clasping both hands in front of her. “If that happens, then we pivot and do something else.”
“Like running away?”
She gives an exaggerated shrug. “It’ll distract them, at least.” Then, glancing around, she huffs a little groan. “Where’s Frannie got to? She was supposed to be on distraction duty too.”
Before I can answer, Finch is on the move, striding ahead of us and bowing to the closest guard. Then, keeping his body bent toward the ground, he starts talking fast.
Reva and I share a look. I thought we’d maybe take a minute to have a look around once we got up here, or at least catch our breaths. But Finch takes a step backward, blowing a handful of the powder into the two guards’ faces.
That’s our cue to move. Reva heads to the left while I go right, clutching my sachet of befuddlement powder in one sweaty palm.
It’s the one time that not speaking the language has come in handy for me, and so I break into Valmorian jabbering and bowing at random intervals just like I spotted Finch doing.
The guards are all dressed in their head to toe burgundy garb that looks even hotter and more restrictive than my monk robes. One is tall with a ginger moustache and not a lot of hair on the top of his head, while the other is shorter than me with a shock of curly dark hair.
“What’s all this, then?” the moustached one asks.
“Seems like we’ve got an influx of monks. Did the king order something to be blessed or something?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Reva has a pair of guards equally enthralled.
Over by the gates, Finch has plucked a long stick from his pocket and he’s...
jabbing it through the air as though he’s fencing with it, much to the utter bemusement of the increasing crowd of guards trickling closer to the gates.
“What is going on?” the guard to my right mutters. “Is that a dried sausage he’s got in his hand?”
“Looks like it. Maybe they’ve come to extol the virtues of vegetarianism.”
“You can keep your fancy words to yourself. All I know is, Barry’s at risk of getting a smack around the ear with a very large, dried sausage.”
“You have bad energy all over this place. Let us cleanse it and be blessed,” Finch calls out, giving a thrust of his sausage with every few words.
Thanks to Finch’s antics, he’s already gathering a line of guards watching him in utter confusion. My two guards take another look at me before deciding I’m less of a threat and start to head over toward the gates.
The scent of cloves carries on the breeze, and I can feel in my chest that Torin is moving past us, heading for the palace while Kit is somewhere around the side of the building, searching for one of the staff entrances.
Then I pull out the sachet and tip some into my hand, gesturing for both guards to look closer.
And... for some reason, they both pause, glancing at each other before they peer closer.
With perfect timing, another gust of wind sends a cloud of the powder into their faces.
Unfortunately, it also ends up hitting me in the face, and I cough and splutter as things take on a slightly fuzzy haze, like I’ve drunk too much rum again.
Oops.
That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
I’ve got enough space in my brain to vaguely remember what I’m meant to be doing and keep on jabbering, which seems to confuse the guards further. Perfect. The guard in front of me gives me a long look, swaying slightly on his feet.
“Did you come to bless our souls?” the shorter guard asks me.
I gesture at some of the other guards, and my two spin around on their heels.
“Hey, Jess, get over here. You too, Charlie.”
I’m then surrounded by guards, all gawping at me like I’m the one brandishing a sausage like it’s a weapon. I let some more of the dust float into the air and snort a laugh as their expressions grow softer, eyes glazing over.
Oops. This stuff might be stronger than I intended.
My robe is too hot and I pull at the ties to allow the wind to access my sweaty skin, but a hand on my shoulder stops me before I can get them undone.
Without even looking, I know it’s my Reva. My insides light up and I grin at her, even though she can’t see my face because of this stupid hood.
“All right, then, handsome,” she purrs in Valmorian. “Is stripping for the guards part of your distraction technique?”
“I didn’t realise there were lady monks,” one guard says.
“Of course there are,” Reva replies without missing a beat.
He narrows his eyes at her, and I feel a surge of protectiveness.
Easy now, stud, a female voice that isn’t Reva says inside my head. Through my fuzzy brain, I’m less surprised than I probably should be.
“Did you maybe dose yourself a little?” Reva asks me lightly.
I nod at her, and she sends a wave of amused reassurance through our bond, leaving me feeling like my insides are fizzing.
Then there’s a shout from behind us and the steady beat of a drum that’s quickly joined by the jaunty sound of a fiddle.
I spin around and almost lose my balance, but Reva’s there to prop me up, and I fling my arm around her shoulder, tugging her against my side.
She lets out a little yelp of surprise before letting me hug her tight.
“Seems like the crew has brought the party to the palace,” Reva murmurs to me.
She’s right. Heading up the hill toward us is the entire crew, with Frannie at the very front. Daggers hammering away at a drum while other crew members are dancing their way toward us.
“All right, brother,” Dagger says to me with a little wink, and not knowing what else to do with myself, I bow at him. He lets out a raucous peal of laughter
Clearly, I really miscalculated with this powder stuff.
Rather than simply confusing the hell out of the guards, it’s making us all feel a little...
goofy. I’m relaxed and fuzzy-head, and I’m not the only one.
Instead of challenging the newcomers, the guards we’ve dosed with the powder are watching the crews’ shenanigans with sloppy smiles and heavy-lidded eyes.
I’m filled with the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to giggle, especially when one of the crew approaches Captain Finch and starts pretending to fence with him.
As distractions go, I think we’re doing a pretty good job.
There are now dozens of guards and even more curious palace staff who are getting a faceful of my magic dust.
Out of nowhere, Reva gasps beside me, clinging to my arm and clutching her chest.
“Reva? What’s wrong?”
And then I feel it.
Oily dread coats my insides as all the air is swiftly sucked out of my lungs, and I’m filled with terror that has my knees buckling. This is followed by rage quite unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
I have no clue who it’s coming from, but it’s so overwhelming, I can barely draw air into my lungs.
Even Finch has stopped fencing and is bent double, causing the guards to migrate closer while the rest of the crew redouble their efforts, dancing around and singing a bawdy sea shanty.
“It’s both of them,” Reva rasps, still clinging to me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright. “I think they’ve found the king.”