16 #3
Vawn avoids my gaze, shutting off the water and drying the outside of the pitcher.
“My departure is set for the day after tomorrow. Tonight the Lord and Lady are hosting a party with some of their close friends, including the northern nobles who are most loyal to the Crown. They believe it’s important for me to make an appearance.
Our allies need to see me in person to confirm that I’m alive. ”
“The threats and the wanted posters aren’t enough proof for them?” I snort. “A party like that is a huge security risk. I don’t like it.”
“I knew you wouldn’t. If it helps, the guests and I will all be masked. I will only unmask in the Kaenans’ private parlor to a few select people, key dignitaries and influential citizens of the region.”
Swearing under my breath, I wrap the towel around my head and stalk back into the bedroom.
“Where are my clothes? I need to talk to this Lord and Lady so I can find out what sort of precautions will be in place. Are they checking for weapons at the door? Will they have measures to prevent glyph use? What about personal security for you? Obviously I’ll be there, but you should have more bodyguards than just me, especially now. ”
“Syth, you can’t come to the party. You’re still healing.”
Severin is floating in front of the window, twirling slowly in the sunshine. He flicks a tassel at Vawn. “I told you she’d want to attend.”
“I’m going,” I confirm. “And somebody had better get me an outfit, or I will make one out of the bedsheets.”
“I don’t think a bedsheet gown would be particularly appropriate for a high society event in the Grey Province,” comments Severin.
“No shit,” mutters Vawn, raking a hand through his hair. “I will ask Lady Kaenan about a gown for you.”
“Something I can fight in.”
“No, Syth.” He punches the bathroom doorpost so sharply that I startle.
“Don’t you understand? You almost died. You’re not to think about fighting anything for at least two weeks.
If you attend this event at all, you will stand quietly beside me, and you will trust the guards of Anyssir Castle to do their jobs. ”
“How do you know they’re loyal? There are traitors everywhere, it seems. And the bounty is high enough to tempt even the most dedicated of guards.”
“These people have served the Kaenans for years. They are treated well, paid well. Lady Kaenan is not only a noblewoman—she is also a midwife, like most of the women in her family. She and her sister have delivered all the babies not only in the castle, but in the villages nearby. And she carries healing glyphs. She gives of her own life when it’s necessary, to ensure that her mothers and infants survive the birth process. The people of this region adore her.”
“And you believe their adoration will transfer to you.”
“Yes, because I’m under the protection of her and her husband.”
I sigh, running my hand along the elaborately carved bedpost. “This Lady Kaenan sounds too good to be true.”
“She’s incredible.” The fervency of his tone plucks at my pride, and for a moment, I wish that I were a self-sacrificing midwife, a saint among women.
But I’m a peep show dancer, an inexperienced bodyguard, a damaged girl with nothing to offer but her fierce determination to keep him alive, not because he’s the prince, but because he is Vawn. My client. My duty. Mine.
“This goddess of a noblewoman—she believes the party is a good idea?” I ask.
“She sent the invitations, and she is planning the entire thing, so… yes. I assume so,” Vawn replies.
“Organization does not equal endorsement,” comments Severin.
“Thank you for that.” Vawn shoots him a glare. “Isn’t about time for your nap, carpet?”
“No.” Severin continues his lazy twirling. Motes of dust spin around him, glinting in the rays of sunshine.
“Well… don’t talk to Syth,” Vawn orders him. “At least, not about… you know.”
“You’ll tell her then. Soon.”
“Tell me what?” I frown at both of them.
“I’ll go ask about your gown.” Vawn darts out of the room.
I swerve my gaze to the carpet, but he only lifts his tassels in mimicry of a shrug. “It’s the prince’s secret, not mine. He will tell you when he’s ready.”
“But you were going to tell me earlier. Why the change of heart?”
“I don’t have a heart.”
“Obviously.” I unwrap the towel from my head and shake out my hair. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“I don’t approve of those. I may use one or two occasionally for your benefit, but I think people should say what they mean. Everything is so much simpler that way.”
“Figurative speech is human.” I stretch out on the bed. The relief of lying down makes me realize that I was actually in pain during most of my conversation with Vawn. I was just too distracted to care. “You agree with me, right? This party is risky and foolish.”
“I can see why, from a strategic perspective, it might be beneficial for the influential men and women of the Grey Province to see that their future King is alive and well,” Severin replies. “But I agree that such an event poses a significant risk to his life if it is not handled properly.”
“He’s so casual about it,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “Like he’s not worried at all.”
“He doesn’t care whether he lives or dies,” says Severin.
My eyes flash open, and I sit up. “Did he tell you that? Recently, I mean? I know he used to feel that way, but I thought… I thought he might feel differently now.”
Severin flicks his tassels in another shrug. “All I know is what he said to you while you were unconscious. Which I don’t believe he would want me to repeat.”
“You and I are connected,” I tell him. “You shouldn’t keep secrets from me.”
“That’s not how a rider-carpet link works,” he says.
“As I have explained, it involves a very limited psychic connection between my consciousness and yours that allows me to find you when my name is called. I am under no obligation to disclose anyone else’s secrets to you unless I see fit.
If you like, I can explain more about the theory of cognitive and positional synchronicity as it pertains to magic carpets and—”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” I say quickly. “I think I’ll rest a bit, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well. And I will enjoy a little more sun. It causes premature fading, so I shouldn’t indulge, but I do like the way it feels on my threads.”
I watch him revolve in the rays, weariness and worry pressing on my heart like bruising fingers. I’m feeling sleepy again, on the verge of drifting off, when the door opens.
“Forsythia Lecari.” A throaty female voice fills the room. “I’m Everil Kaenan. They tell me you want a gown.”