Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Just to be certain I understand,” he said in a cold and condescending tone they probably taught princes from birth, “you believe I’m angry at the possibility you might disappear before the practitioner is caught.”
“Why else would you care?”
“Of all the stone-headed…” Eyes firing with anger, he moved a step closer, and my heart beat faster in response. Because he was a threat…or because he wasn’t? And which was more terrifying?
“Are you determined to believe that I’m your enemy?” he asked. “That my interest in you is some sort of ruse? That I intend to use you?” A step closer. “Perhaps as bait to lure out the Aetheric practitioner.”
“I hadn’t. But it’s not a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea. And if I were willing to do that, if I were the type of man who’d do that, wouldn’t I have done it from the beginning?”
“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be a bad idea if we had a better way to counter what he can do.”
“You are the most ridiculously stubborn woman I have ever met.”
“And you’re a prince.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that, and what you think of it.”
“Your Highness.”
We both turned toward the servant who’d suddenly appeared from the hedge.
“Yes?” the prince asked, his voice tight.
“Apologies, but there are belligerent guests. Drunk and demanding more wine. Talia has requested your assistance.”
“The guards can’t handle them?”
The servant delicately cleared his throat. “They claim to be relatives of the Empress Eternal.”
He worked to gather his anger, push it down. “To Oblivion with all of them,” he muttered, then looked back at me. “We aren’t done.”
I wasn’t sure there was much to discuss. So I said, “Yes, Your Highness,” in the most aristocratic tone I could manage.
He was muttering as he followed the servant back to the boardwalk.
I walked back to the pavilion, where Wren waited alone.
“Savaadh went with him?”
“With apologies for not telling you goodbye in person.” She glanced at me. “Prince giving you more grief about not going with Savaadh?”
“Yeah. How’d you guess?”
“I could see it in his face.”
“What?”
“Jealousy.”
I snorted. “Why would he be jealous of Savaadh?”
For a moment, she stared at me. “Fox.”
“What?”
“Did the Aether rattle your brain? You’re uncurious about why a prince invited you to a ball, provided a dress, danced with you in front of everyone, and got jealous when another prince expressed interest?”
“He feels guilty that I got hurt, and he still needs me to help him.”
She gave me the look.
I shook my head, and my palms felt sweaty. “It can’t be anything else, Wren. There’s no point in it being anything else.”
And I had to keep reminding myself of that, because I feared that the wall I’d built was too fragile to survive him. His kindness. His smile. His body.
I shook my head and looked away. “And he knows Savaadh wasn’t being serious.”
“It doesn’t matter. Savaadh isn’t a Lys’Careth, so Savaadh has more freedom than the prince ever will, even if it’s merely a flirtation.”
Not the first time he’s regretted being a Lys’Careth, I thought, considering his scars.
“He’s no victim, Fox. The least powerful of princes is still a prince. And that’s leagues more powerful than the rest of us.”
The Lady decided she’d seen enough and demanded that Wren accompany her back to the manor.
“Never know what ruffians one might encounter along the way,” she’d said.
Wren and I had exchanged a look that confirmed we were thinking the same thing: The Lady didn’t want Wren coming between me and whatever escapades she hoped I’d get into with the prince.
Unfortunately for her, the prince was still angry. He hadn’t even looked my way since he’d returned to the ballroom, and he’d danced with one partner after another. After the fifth, I left again.
Because his anger was no fault of mine, I decided this was the perfect time to find the treasury.
I wouldn’t take anything; I didn’t even need to step foot inside.
But finding it, in addition to being extremely satisfying, was a small rebellion that felt necessary.
A reminder that we weren’t really friends—and certainly couldn’t be anything else.
He’d kicked at my wall tonight, so I’d add another course of bricks.
I was still me, even in a gown, in a palace, behind a wall.
I slipped out the back door while he was dancing and walked in the opposite direction of my room. There were more soldiers stationed at corners and stairways, but more people for them to watch, too. Sneaking about was always easier in a crowd.
I reached the dome, where dozens of people mingled and admired the architecture and mosaics.
I paused at the threshold, watching the interactions.
I wouldn’t take coins from the prince’s guests.
But there were other ways to steal. With a smile, I walked through the room, nipping a bit of silver from a woman’s fancy chatelaine.
I dropped it onto the floor in front of the man she’d been not-so-discreetly admiring from a few strides away. Now they had something to talk about.
I found a dark passageway past the dome and moved silently into it, checking doors until I found one that was unlocked.
I opened it and found a storeroom. Stacks of linens tied with ribbon, vases, candelabras, baskets full of beeswax candles.
Neat bundles of firewood were tied with twine in baskets on the floor, ready for hauling to rooms that needed them.
I smiled and closed the door again. Talia had gotten this room in perfect order, at least.
I walked a little way farther, ducking back into an alcove as a guard on patrol passed by. When the hallway was silent again, I opened another door. Candles were already lit, and the room smelled faintly of smoke and leather. I walked inside, pulled the door closed behind me.
Like the ballroom, this chamber was long and rectangular.
There were chairs and benches along the sides and a long rug in the middle, and the far end held a simple wooden throne.
There were windows on the long wall that faced the door.
The opposite wall held an enormous stone hearth surrounded by glowering animal heads mounted on wooden plaques.
Boars, bears, deer, angry-looking rodents, and birds I’d never seen before.
No foxes, for which I was grateful. Weapons and shields hung among the animal heads, maybe the tools used to capture the prey.
This was exactly how I’d have pictured a room in a Lys’Careth palace—large and stocked with trophies to their potency.
It must have been some sort of room for the resident prince and his friends or counselors to gather after a hunt, to discuss Serious Matters involving the stronghold.
There might have been liquors and pipes, or courtesans to help them celebrate their victories.
I couldn’t really see the current prince in this room. Not that it was my business.
I walked, footsteps silent on the thick rug, to the map of Carethia that hung behind the throne.
The City of Flowers sat in the center. Each of the four gates was marked with blossoms—with a mountain lily for the Western Gate, of course.
There was so much of the nation to see. So much of the stronghold to guard from the Aetheric practitioner.
Something clanked behind me, like a heavy object hitting the floor. I turned back and saw nothing but billowing velvet curtains at the other end of the room. Had someone opened a window? Or had the window already been open and admitted a visitor?
I walked to the hearth, picked up the iron poker that waited beside it, and crept back toward the window. Something pushed at the curtain from the window side, and I raised the poker.
“You’re in the royal palace, and I’m armed. So if you’ve snuck in to attack the prince, you’d better just give up.”
There was a muffled sound, and then another punch at the curtain. I stuck the poker into it. “Reveal yourself!”
“Oof,” said the deep voice on the other side.
I raised the weapon and pulled away the curtain.
The person who stood in front of the window had gray hair and a short beard, his eyes blue and clear.
His skin was sun-browned and wrinkled, but his shoulders looked strong.
He wore trousers tucked into fine brown boots, and a long leather coat that looked as if it had seen plenty of wear.
And he looked absolutely baffled to find me, curtain drawn, poker in hand.
“Who are you?” I asked. Not the Aetheric practitioner. This man was older and had the wrong build, and there was no hint of Aether around him. If he was a servant, I hadn’t seen him before. If he was a party guest, he wasn’t dressed like the rest of them.
“Who are you?” he countered, then cocked his head. “And do you often go around beating guests with pokers?”
“How do I know you’re not an intruder who came in through the window?”
“I suppose you don’t. But I’m not.” His smile showed light amusement, and not a hint of concern that he’d been found.
“If you’re a guest, what were you doing in the curtains?”
“Fresh air,” he said. “I’d have gone outside, but damned if I know where the palace doors are. May I untangle myself without getting poked through?”
I moved out of the way.
“Strange to meet a pretty girl with a poker in a council room.”
“Strange to be in a council room with a poker,” I agreed.
“Why aren’t you at the party?” he asked.
“There are…a lot of people.” Seemed best not to tell him I was looking for things to steal. Or at least to sneak around in.
“A lot of people,” he agreed, and held out a hand. “I’m Gryffin. May I have the honor of your name?”
He talked like a retired storybook knight and didn’t seem like an immediate threat. I took his hand and shook it. “I’m called Fox.”
“Fox,” he repeated. “Are you as clever and curious as your namesake?”
“I try.”
“Good lass. This will be our refuge from the people. Although maybe not for much else.” He lifted his gaze to the gallery of animal heads. “Lot of death in here, isn’t there?”