Delfina
lays the odd and irregularly shaped package down in front of the door to the Prince’s apartments and hurries away without knocking.
The last thing she wants is questions about where the package has come from. And besides, the entirety of the Palace staff knows to stay away from the Prince when he is in a bad mood, and he is currently in a very bad mood. Nor could guess whether the contents of the package—such a large, ugly necklace, why would he want it?—or the note would improve his mood or worsen it.
has been in the employ of the Palace since she was a young woman, freshly off the boat from Detmarch. And for nearly all that time, she has carried clandestine messages to and fro from the city to the Hill and back again, for a few crowns each time. One day she will retire with a very comfortable savings.
She rarely peeks at the contents of the messages she is given, but this time she had. She’d been handed the package—along with five crowns—by Jerrod Belmerci, but when she had asked if it was from the Ragpicker King as usual, he had only winked at her.
It had been enough to rouse her suspicions. She was happy to carry messages, but the package was surprisingly heavy—what if it was something dangerous? She’d carefully undone the twine holding it together and peeked inside. What she’d found surprised her. It was a sort of necklace, very large and ugly. Certainly nothing that the Prince would be likely to wear or to admire.
With it had been a small, scribbled note. had opened and read it without a trace of compunction, having already decided that if the contents seemed likely to upset the Prince, she might give it to him tomorrow, or maybe even next week.
The note, however, had merely been nonsense, or so it had seemed to her. As she walks down the steps of the Castel Mitat, she can’t help but think about what she’d read: Why was it that people couldn’t just be straightforward these days? Honestly, just think of all the strife in the world that could be avoided if people would just say what they meant.
For Prince Conor Aurelia
Before there were Sword Catchers in this world, there were enchanted objects that offered a different sort of protection. With such an amulet, one could survive a fatal dose of poison or a blade to the heart. What would you do with such magic if you had it, Monseigneur?
Though I would not have thought so once, I now believe that you would—that you will—do the right thing.
—Prosper Beck