Chapter 151
The Kingdom of Varynthar had become infamous for ruthlessly killing its palace workers, which meant the palace was perpetually short of servants. Conveniently for us, a new batch of kitchen workers was being transported from Eryndor to Varynthar in a carriage that night.
The lower-ranking servants were barely subjected to inspection. Apparently, being considered too insignificant to matter also meant being considered too filthy to search properly.
And that was exactly what we were counting on.
By the middle of the night, Lucien, Miss Ann, Benedict, and I were sitting inside the crowded carriage, dressed as lowly maids and servants recruited to work in the royal kitchens. By the time we reached Varynthar's palace, dawn was beginning to approach.
The soldiers barely glanced at us before ordering the entire group forward. We were swept along with the other servants through the narrow corridors leading toward the kitchens, and not one guard seemed remotely interested in looking twice at us.
The kitchen was exactly what I had expected.
Absolute chaos.
Servants rushed past carrying sacks of flour over their shoulders, pots clanged somewhere to my left, someone was shouting about burnt bread, and two cooks were engaged in what appeared to be a deeply personal argument over whether onions belonged in the royal wedding soup.
Judging by the passion involved, I suspected that particular debate had been raging for generations.
Honestly, this might have been the safest place in the entire palace.
Miss Ann adjusted the white scarf covering her hair and walked ahead of us with a basket of vegetables in her arms, looking as though she had spent her entire life working in royal kitchens.
Master Benedict shuffled behind her with a sack of potatoes slung over one shoulder, looking every bit like an elderly kitchen helper who had made several questionable decisions in life.
Lucien, meanwhile, looked deeply offended by his own existence.
"I can't believe you made me wear this."
I glanced sideways at him.
"You mean the apron?"
"I mean all of it."
"You look fine."
"I look employed."
"You are employed."
He gave me a wounded look.
"I am a prince."
"Today, you're a prince with onion duty."
He stared at me.
"I hope you understand that this is treason."
Before I could answer, Miss Ann quietly pushed open a weathered wooden door tucked behind several sacks of grain.
"In here."
We slipped inside one after another.
The room was small and dusty, with the faint smell of old spices lingering in the air. Broken barrels were stacked against one wall, while a cracked shelf leaned at such an alarming angle that I briefly questioned every life choice that had brought me into this room.
Miss Ann shut the door behind us.
With a small flick of her fingers, a faint shimmer spread across the wood before disappearing.
"A sound barrier," she explained. "No one outside will hear us."
Only then did everyone release the breath they had been holding.
Benedict lowered the sack of potatoes onto the floor with a groan.
"I have carried wounded soldiers who were lighter than this."
"You could have used magic," I pointed out.
"And expose ourselves before we've even started?"
I considered that.
"Fair point."
Fluff leapt gracefully onto an overturned barrel and settled there with all the dignity of someone who believed he was supervising the operation rather than participating in it.
I turned toward the others.
"The wedding preparations mean the palace will be busier than usual, which works in our favour. The more people there are, the easier it will be for us to disappear among them."
Miss Ann folded her arms.
"So what's the plan?"
"We split up. I'll find Rhaevan."
Lucien didn't even let me finish.
"I'm coming with you."
I nodded.
"I expected you would."
I turned toward Miss Ann and Benedict.
"I need both of you to stay here. Miss Ann, be ready for us when we bring Rhaevan back. Judging from what Toasty told us, I have a feeling he's in far worse condition than we realise."
Miss Ann's expression tightened, but she nodded.
"Understood."
For a moment, no one spoke.
We were inside Varynthar's palace now. One mistake could put every one of us in chains.
I looked toward the little furry cat sitting proudly on the barrel.
"Fluff."
His ears immediately perked up.
I crouched in front of him.
"I have one very important job for you."
His tail flicked.
"Can you find Rhaevan?"
Fluff sniffed the air once, then again. His ears twitched before he turned his head toward the door and looked directly at me.
"Meow."
There was such confidence in that single sound that I almost laughed.
"I'll take that as a yes."
I stood, adjusted the tray tucked beneath my arm, and looked toward the door.
"All right. Let's go rescue the High Archanist."
---
The moment we stepped out of the storeroom, we separated.
Miss Ann and Benedict disappeared into the sea of servants without another word, while Lucien, Fluff, and I headed in the opposite direction.
The palace corridors were almost as chaotic as the kitchens. Servants hurried past carrying silverware, fresh flowers, expensive wine, and enough food to feed an army. Soldiers occasionally crossed the halls, forcing everyone else to flatten themselves against the walls until they passed.
I kept my head lowered, balancing the serving tray carefully in my hands.
Fluff padded quietly beside us, occasionally stopping to sniff the floor before continuing.
"So," Lucien muttered under his breath. "How do I look?"
I glanced sideways at him.
He was wearing a white apron with flour dusted across one sleeve and a wooden spoon tucked into his belt.
"Like someone who's about to overcook the soup."
His expression darkened.
"I hate this disguise."
"You do realise we're trying not to attract attention?"
"I know."
He sighed dramatically.
"But I also have standards."
I rolled my eyes.
Fluff suddenly turned into a quieter corridor, leading us away from the bustling servants.
We followed him.
The voices behind us gradually faded until only the distant echo of footsteps remained.
Lucien glanced around.
"If we're heading toward the prison levels, this outfit isn't going to get me very far."
I frowned.
"What are you planning?"
Instead of answering, he raised one finger.
"Listen."
Footsteps approached from the other end of the corridor.
A lone palace guard rounded the corner, humming to himself and completely oblivious to the two intruders waiting in his path.
Lucien smiled.
"Oh no, Lucien-"
Before I could finish whispering his name, he stepped forward.
The guard barely had time to blink before Lucien grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and struck the back of his neck with the edge of his hand.
The guard crumpled to the floor.
I stared at him.
"That was surprisingly efficient."
Lucien dusted off his hands.
"I did receive combat training, believe it or not."
"I thought princes mostly attended banquets."
"We multitask."
He crouched beside the unconscious guard and dragged him into a dark corner before straightening.
"I'll be back."
"Be quick."
A few minutes later, he emerged from behind a stone pillar wearing the guard's uniform.
It fit him almost perfectly. Annoyingly, he even looked convincing.
He adjusted the sword at his waist before looking at me expectantly.
"Well?"
I sighed.
"I hate to admit it, but you actually look like a guard."
He smirked.
"I know."
"You also look far too pleased with yourself."
"I am."
I picked up the serving tray again.
"Then I suppose I'm the kitchen maid delivering food."
Lucien nodded toward the tray.
"Perfect. No one questions someone carrying food."
I looked down at the bowls.
"Let's hope you're right."
Fluff let out a quiet meow and trotted ahead, his nose close to the ground.
Without another word, we followed our furry guide deeper into the palace.
Somewhere below us, Rhaevan was waiting.