Chapter 5 #2
Curiosity compelled me to linger just behind the column’s edge and spy, the guards clearly not worried I'd bolt. Not with them blocking every exit and a sword on each hip.
“It’s unseemly to eavesdrop.” But for all the guards’ disapproval, they made no move to stop me, as if my passing the test the king and queen had set before me afforded me some status…something I meant to take advantage of to the fullest.
“…slept divinely,” a brunette noblewoman said with a sigh, fanning herself lazily with a delicate peacock-feather fan that I might have been tempted to steal if it carried anything more than the whispers of idle court gossip.
“I’ve never felt so rested.” She picked up a strawberry from a silver tray with delicate fingers, lifting it to her painted pink lips.
Another chimed in, lazily flicking a long auburn curl over her shoulder. “I assumed the guest chambers would be dreadful, considering how strangely we’ve all been treated—summoned without explanation, cordoned off, with no word from our hosts or any timeline for how long we’ll be required to stay.”
“At this point I half expect they’ve forgotten we’re still here,” a third said coolly, buttering a scone. “There hasn’t been a word from Their Majesties.”
“Which makes it all the more insulting.” The fan-wielder lowered her voice conspiratorially and they all leaned in. “Have you heard the rumor? The only person Their Majesties have asked to meet today is a thief. It’s absurd.” She gave her fan an offended flutter.
My breath stilled and I edged closer, being careful to remain out of sight.
“The servants are buzzing about it,” the brunette continued, laying her fan down and smoothing her blue satin gown. “Apparently she was caught sneaking through the palace, and instead of being imprisoned in the dungeon as she deserved, she was granted a private audience.”
“Where did you hear that, Marjorie?” the woman with auburn hair asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I take it you have an admirer in the palace, one who is willing to spill secrets?”
Marjorie fluttered her peacock feathers. “Perhaps I simply listen better, Edwina. Or maybe if you spent more time actually paying attention and less curling your hair, you’d know things too.”
Edwina flashed her a glare, her sea-green dress rustling as she flounced in her seat.
The third noblewoman snorted in disgust, her aquiline nose wrinkling as she set her scone on a plate, untasted.
“To think a common criminal was allowed to meet with Their Majesties in boots and patched sleeves. If it weren’t so offensive, it would almost be impressive.
” Her blonde ringlets quivered as she shook her head in annoyance.
Edwina sipped her tea through lips pursed with disapproval, seeming to forget her brief spat with Marjorie in her eagerness to gossip. “She must have blackmailed someone, or uncovered some scandal they’re desperate to conceal. There’s no other logical explanation.”
Marjorie closed her fan with a disgruntled flick of her wrist. “Whatever her tricks that allowed her to get this far, surely they won’t last. Whoever she is, she doesn’t belong here. One brush with the court and she’ll unravel.”
“She must have cheated somehow,” a new voice said coolly, the tone laced with poison and sugar.
A flicker of heat curled through me. Whatever my habit of stealing, I would never stoop to such distasteful deceit.
I craned forward slightly to see who was slandering me.
A tall woman in a silver dress, dark hair pulled into a stylish bun, leaned gracefully against a pillar, a bored look on her striking face.
“Or,” the blonde said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Perhaps the court is so desperate for a replacement prince they’ll settle for anything, even a street rat.”
I chose that moment to clear my throat and step into sight.
One by one, their gazes shifted and their eyes caught mine.
Their laughter faltered and their whispers ceased when they noticed me watching.
Their sneers grew sharper as they assessed my wrinkled clothing and worn attire.
I wore no silk or jewels, just bruises and a satisfied smirk as I took in their wide-eyed shock.
The thief in the flesh.
I didn’t flinch beneath their scorn, but held their gaze with a lifted chin. Marjorie recovered first. “It appears we have an unsolicited visitor. Eavesdropping is so…provincial. Unsurprising; spying suits your kind.”
I smirked. “Secrets make better currency than gold. But even with the scandal dripping from your scones, yours are barely worth a bronze coin.”
Hatred filled the noblewomen’s glares, but they made no retort as the guards nudged me forward. I didn’t miss the way they watched me as I passed, their scowls poorly concealed behind their silk fans.
The guards led me deeper into the palace and then up a grand staircase before passing through a wide corridor.
My senses were alive with curiosity as I passed various rooms. I gazed with envy at a library full of ancient books that held memories older than this palace.
I wistfully eyed a set of foreign luggage that waited outside a guest room; I’d had little chance in my life to explore memories from other nations.
A young page passed us, walking briskly, and I edged close enough to “accidentally” brush against the stack of papers he held, hoping to get some insights into the monarchs who had possibly pored over these documents.
Unfortunately my brief contact yielded only a fragmented snapshot of the page himself scrambling to gather up the pages a few minutes ago when he’d dropped them.
Garrett’s eyes narrowed at my contact with the papers and he shifted positions so that I was now buffered on all sides by the royal guard, unable to use my magic on any other objects.
At last, after nearly losing count of the number of staircases we’d ascended, we arrived in the highest tower at a door carved from dark oak, its iron hinges shaped like vines, more ornate than the guest chambers they’d placed me in before.
One of the guards swung it open, revealing a room far too luxurious to be comforting—quilts and curtains embroidered with golden thread, air perfumed with something sweet and floral, a curving arched window that gleamed in the fading light like a promise I couldn’t reach.
The moment I stepped across the threshold, the door shut resolutely behind me, revealing this room for what it truly was: a cage disguised as courtesy.
An elegant paradise compared to the dungeon…
but at least the dungeon had been honest. They claimed I’d passed some royal test—and yet here I was, locked away yet again, like a threat rather than a chosen heir.
I waited, counting silently until a minute had passed, then pressed my ear to the wood. Muffled voices, signifying the guards were still stationed outside. I tried the handle. Locked. Of course.
I turned back towards the room, letting my gaze sweep across it with the same precision I’d use to scan a vault.
Fireplace—sealed. Windows—latched tightly and etched with a faint silver rune that shimmered when the light hit just right, with a sheer drop beyond too high to survive even if I managed to pry them open.
The walls were smooth stone, the ceiling high and bare.
No vents, no hidden servant passages I could detect.
The wardrobe was locked, as was the vanity.
The mirror was mounted too high to inspect properly without standing on the delicate chaise, but soiling the elegant furniture was the least of my worries.
I climbed up and tapped the frame’s edges, searching for hollows or hidden compartments. Nothing.
Next I checked the hearthstones for loose bricks, shifted the rugs for trapdoors, even checked the baseboards, just in case some clever architect had left a trick panel. But if this room held secrets, they didn’t trust them to thieves.
Still, I didn’t stop, nibbling on the lunch that had been left on the nightstand as I worked my way around the room.
My fingers brushed each surface I passed: the curved bedpost, the velvet armchair, the table carved with twining vines.
I kept waiting for the flicker of memory, a trace of the magic I’d felt the night before.
But the objects remained stubbornly silent, as if the spell had retreated into the shadows, waiting until I found the right object and story to awaken it.
The hours dripped by like candle wax as I continued my futile search. Outside, the light shifted through the latticed glass, trailing long, golden bars across the polished floor.
By mid-afternoon, the light began to fade into that golden hush just before dusk.
I stood at the window, watching birds sweep in slow, arching spirals across the sky.
From this height, I could just make out the edge of the western gardens—and beyond them, the dark curve of the forest towards the freedom that shimmered on the horizon, just out of reach.
I paced across the room and pressed my ear back against the wood of the door, still faintly warm from the last time my cheek had rested against its smooth surface. I strained to catch even the faintest noise detecting the guards’ lingering presence—the shifting of boots, the whisper of armor.
They were still there, not that I expected otherwise. But with nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, I found myself checking again and again.
I fished a slender hairpin from my updo—my lockpick. My backup I kept in my boot had been confiscated during the search Their Majesties had ordered before imprisoning me in this gilded prison, but they'd overlooked this. I smirked at the memory of the guards’ surprise at how little they’d found.
There was a reason I rarely carried any personal effects; I couldn’t risk dragging certain memories back into the light.… especially the grief from losing the one I cared for most.