Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-nine
Wren was awake when I checked on her the next morning, sitting among a pile of pillows and embroidered coverlets, her hair contained by a ruffled sleeping cap.
She glanced up, then looked down at her book again. “If you try to apologize again, I’ll punch you.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” I said, and pointed to my head.
She frowned, reached up, and yanked off the cap. “Adding insult to injury,” she said.
“Orda or Talia?”
“Both, I think.” She threw back the covers, revealing the beruffled sleeping gown they’d put her in.
“That is quite a garment.”
“Another insult to injury.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I was run up and down a washboard a few thousand times. I could feel the Anima; it was like…flames inside my skin. And I couldn’t make my arms move the way I wanted to. I was in there, but someone else was in control.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back, and said nothing else about it. And I knew better than to ask.
“How’s your head?” she asked. “Sanj told me I hit you.”
“Only sore when I touch it.”
“Sanj said the other strongholders were healing. Good work.”
I nodded.
She frowned. “What’s wrong?”
I told her about Luna’s visit and our discussion and my new-to-me title.
“Does anyone get to tell the gods-damned truth anymore?” she muttered.
“Not where the Aetheric is concerned.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
I rubbed my temples against the burgeoning headache. “Unsettled. Right now I have all the danger and none of the benefits.”
“Here,” she said, shifting over in the bed and patting the empty space. I kicked off my boots, climbed onto the bed beside her, dropped my head to her shoulder, and tried to let some of the fear go.
“Have you told him?”
“About the seal. Not about the title.”
“Are you going to?”
“Not today. If the prince doesn’t know the whole truth, he won’t have to lie about it.”
“So you’ll lie about it on his behalf?”
“I don’t think you should take the side of a Lys’Careth.”
She cozied down into the nest of blankets. “Royals do have some benefits.”
I made my way to the throne room, blissfully absent of aristocratic daughters lying in wait to berate me. He sat on the throne, alone but for Galen, one leg crossed over the other and staring pensively into the distance.
“Are you searching for answers?”
He blinked out of his reverie, focused on me, and smiled a little. “Yes. And finding none.”
“Tell me the question,” I said, stopping in front of him.
“How do we catch a man who can disappear into Aether?”
“The way I told you before—use me as bait.”
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s the best way.”
“Not now,” he said with a hint of amusement. “He’s probably terrified of you.”
“Or thinks I’m definitely worth the trouble. It’s the best way to control how and when. And I can take care of myself, as you’ve seen.”
“I don’t sacrifice my soldiers.”
“I’m not one of your soldiers. I’d travel through the Aetheric to find him if I could, but I can’t.”
“Yue has garrison soldiers searching the stronghold and outside it. She’ll find something.”
That put a smile on my face. “That’s probably more work than they’ve done in months.”
“I’ve already gotten complaints.”
“Their tears are like the finest wine.”
“Your Highness.” A servant hurried through the side door. “A message for you.” He bowed and offered the prince a sealed fold of paper.
The prince uncrossed his legs and sat up, took the paper, and snapped the seal. He read it in an instant. There was a flash of alarm and a small shake of his head.
“What is it?”
“Gryffin. He’s hurt himself and Sanj is focused on those injured in the market attack, so I’ll go myself.”
“You’re sure the note is from him?”
“It’s his handwriting,” he said with a smile, but he shoved the note into his pocket.
“You don’t want a second opinion?” I asked.
“I appreciate your very suspicious mind,” he said. “But everything is fine.”
“I could go with you…”
“Fox,” he said kindly. “It’s fine. I know you want to stay close to Wren. But I’ll take Galen, if that makes you feel better.”
I glanced at Galen. His expression was dry.
“It’s a start. But take soldiers with you, just in case.”
He looked at me for a moment. “All right.” He nodded at Galen. “Make those arrangements. I’ll change, and meet you in the stables.”
Galen nodded, then glanced at me. “Keep an eye on Wren.”
“I will.”
I ran to the front of the palace and stood in the doorway so I could see the front gate. The prince rode Grim with the bearing I fully expected from a Lys’Careth. Dangerous, handsome, arrogant. He looked every bit in control. Every bit as devastating and deadly as the power he wielded.
Galen and two other soldiers were on horses behind him. He was with people he trusted, and there was no specific reason why I should worry.
But something still bothered me. His uncle had spent his life traveling the world on his own. He didn’t seem like the type to suddenly ask his nephew for help. And if he hadn’t sent it, who had?
Gryffin had said he was staying in a house in the foothills; few would know he was there.
But people talked, and it was possible word had spread that his uncle was visiting, and that the information had reached someone who wanted to lure the prince out.
The Aetheric practitioner was the only person I knew who’d want to do that.
But why in the gods’ names would the prince have agreed to meet him?
A horrible thought occurred to me.
But I had to see the note to be sure.
I went back to his room, my stomach tight with nerves.
When I reached the door, I held up the square of silver to the waiting guards.
I wasn’t sure if they’d stop me—this room was supposed to be off-limits, after all.
But they’d seen me in here before and made no effort to keep me out. I walked inside.
The coat he’d worn was now over a chair. I walked to it and searched—thoroughly—for the note. Not there. He might have taken it with him. Maybe there’d been directions or instructions for a meeting spot.
I glanced around. It was warmer in here than it had been last night; someone had lit the fire.
He hadn’t wanted me to read the note. Hadn’t offered it. Had stuck it into his pocket. What else did a person do with a note he didn’t want anyone else to read?
I walked to the hearth, crouched in front of it.
And at the edge I saw a sliver of paper, blackened and ragged at the edges.
I grabbed the poker, pulled it carefully away from the flames, and turned it right side ’round.
It was the left edge of the note, and only a few words from the ends of phrases were visible.
Fox.
Flowers.
alone.
I didn’t need the rest of the words to understand what they meant, and not just because I’d seen the sudden alarm in his eyes when he’d read it.
The note wasn’t from his uncle…but his enemy.
The Aetheric practitioner was using me to threaten the prince.
Maybe he promised to tell the Emperor Eternal about my skills if he didn’t get what he wanted.
And what would he want? Money? Weapons? Soldiers? Maybe just freedom—an end to the hunt.
The prince had lied to me. But then, I hadn’t told him I was a Luminae.
We wanted to protect each other. Maybe the truth, in times like these, was too expensive for people like us.
Maybe that’s also why I didn’t tell Wren what I was doing; I wasn’t afraid she’d try to stop me.
But she’d have insisted on joining me, and she was still too weak for that.
The ember’s heat and the seal’s pain flared simultaneously this time.
I dropped the poker and braced a hand against the hearth to stay upright.
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly in and out, trying not to fight.
The ember and seal were already engaged in battle.
I only gave myself a moment, then pushed through the pain.
I opened the door and found Pax standing guard, and didn’t waste time. “The prince is in danger.”
There was no hesitation now. This wasn’t a bit of leftover food, but the life of the man he’d sworn to protect.
“How?”
“I can feel when the Aetheric practitioner is preparing.” I tapped my chest. “In here. And I can feel it now.” I held out the scrap of note. “I think the prince went to confront him. Do you know where he went?”
“He doesn’t want you to leave the palace.”
“I’m aware. But I will do it anyway in order to save him. Pax, I swear on all the realms that I’m not wrong, and he won’t be punishing anyone. I can feel it in my bones. The Aetheric practitioner wants to kill the prince. We have to stop him.”
He was only quiet for a couple of heartbeats, but it still felt like an eternity. “I can’t leave the palace. But I know who can help. Follow me.”
We ran through the palace to the “small” armory, or so the prince had called it. When Pax pushed open the door—well concealed in the passageway wall—the space it revealed was larger than the dining room.
Either the former prince had given this room more attention than the library, or Red had already cleaned it up, but it was immaculate.
It had stone walls and floors and an arched ceiling supported by enormous timbers.
There were racks of swords and pikes and bows, and the Moriad with its gleaming sapphires had pride of place.
Red wore a leather apron and was working a knife against a flat piece of stone. He looked up as we strode toward him. He wasn’t the only one. There were half a dozen more soldiers in the room, and they all watched suspiciously, surely wondering what in Oblivion I was doing in their war room.
Red put aside the knife and stone and rose from his stool. “Fox. Pax.”
“The prince,” I said breathlessly. “I think he’s in trouble. Do you know where he’s gone?”
“If he wanted you to have that information, he would have told you.”
“Do you know?” I repeated.
“The prince didn’t say,” Yue said, moving closer. “He believed you’d wheedle the information out of us and follow him.”