Chapter 26 #2
They talk over my head. Guard rotations. Tower windows. Mirvol’s voice becomes clipped and professional, and Alaris leans over the table beside her. It’s becoming clearer by the second that this is so much bigger than one lord with a secret compartment and a map.
Is Mirvol a trained soldier, scaling walls and spying on guards in the night? I examine her outfit again, noting the rubies dangling from her ears, and the large opalescent jewel on one finger. She looks like any lady who ever visited the court, not a soldier in a costume.
How many women in taffeta and perfume have sat in this room and pulled secrets from beneath their dresses?
I refocus on the map. There is a distinct sun shape in the middle of the courtyard; that’s the base of the Solvarian monument, depicting the moment when Emperor Illio first appeared in the world.
I know which courtyard this is now. I press my lips together, thinking.
Alaris glances at me, then returns his focus to the map. “Any trees? What’s the terrain?”
“I’ll mark them for you…”
“If you’re trying to get into the Citadel, that tunnel won’t work,” I interrupt. Both of them turn toward me. I swallow. “It isn’t passable.”
“It’s only sealed,” Mirvol insists. “That’s the advantage. Few know it’s there, and no one guards the entrance. Some chisels and a few strong blows…”
Alaris watches me carefully, his face stone.
This isn’t how I wanted to reveal who I am.
I take in a deep breath. “It might have been, until late summer,” I say, unable to meet his eyes. “But a section of the inner wall collapsed. Workers filled the tunnel with broken stone and debris to reinforce it.”
Carriages had to go around the rubble for weeks. I saw the laborers hauling the stones, rivulets of sweat cutting through the dust coating their skin in summer’s final blaze.
“Alaris, how would she know?” Mirvol protests. “My source in Illios assured me—”
“When did you last talk to your source, Mirvol?” Alaris asks, his voice even.
She scowls, planting a fist on the table. “Embrus. At the solstice celebration.”
I tense. I was at the celebration too, trying not to get singed off the stage with all my siblings burning hotter. But there is no recognition in Mirvol’s eyes.
“Then if the cave-in happened in late summer, your source wouldn’t have known at Embrus,” Alaris says simply.
“I suppose.” Mirvol’s mouth tightens. She pulls the map closer as if to take it. “That’s disappointing.”
“Thank you for your efforts, Mirvol,” he says, taking the map from her hands. “You’ve still brought the most detailed map of this area we’ve gotten. I’ve got another task for you.”
He escorts her to the door. I don’t catch whatever next assignment he mutters to her in a low voice.
Mirvol threads her fingers through her styled hair and gives it a shake, mussing it so much a few pins pop out. She pulls at her dress, twisting it until it looks like it went on in a hurry. “Do you need help with the bed?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “I’ll drop a little perfume on it for the laundry.”
“Won’t the servants find it odd I’m leaving so quickly?”
“My pride will survive it. Barely.” He opens the door for her.
As soon as he does, she lets out a pealing laugh. “I’m sorry I have to leave so soon, but I’ll be back to visit again. You know I can’t stay away.” Her sing-songy voice is back.
“And I eagerly await your next visit, Lady Mirvol.” I watch the shift in his body language, his movements fluid and theatrical as he bends to kiss her hand.
It’s a performance.
After a few more sweet nothings exchanged back and forth, Mirvol leaves.
He shuts the door and turns toward me, the smile dropping off his face. He doesn’t look angry, just intent, his hooded eyes calm and steady.
The quiet between us stretches. I stay on the couch, arms crossed, my heart drumming.
“So Mirvol,” I say, unable to endure the silence any longer. “She’s not your lover.”
“No,” he says. “She’s an informant.”
I think of every woman I’ve watched come and go from this house, every knowing look from the staff when the carriages arrive and depart.
“What about all the other women? Are they…”
“Also informants.” He tucks his hands into his pockets. “Most are members of powerful families in the shadoward lands. Smart enough to see the danger, but invisible to everyone around them.”
Could it be true? The scandalous lord who entertains a parade of women is a ruse? With his looks, and the attention he gets, it must be a mix of both. I’m sure plenty of women enter this room with maps up their skirts, then stay for more.
I narrow my eyes. “Really? None of them?”
“None,” he says, tone flat. “I didn’t invent my rule about mixing sex and business just for you.
My informants and I have a professional relationship and common goals.
The cover story gives them a reason to travel and gives the staff something to whisper about.
The emperor doesn’t expect any kind of threat from a lord consumed with revelry and passion. ”
It isn’t hard to imagine, because I’d assumed the same. From the beginning, I believed his pursuit of women couldn’t overlap with any kind of serious motivation.
When the people from Culdridge arrived, I thought I was learning about a second side to this man.
The charming lord and the serious one were two versions I was only just beginning to reconcile.
Before my eyes, the two Alarises are resolving into one.
The true one. The charming womanizer is a fabrication, a lie for listening servants.
An extra layer of protection against the emperor’s scrutiny.
My heart rate picks up and my next thought stalls. Something about this version of him makes me nervous. Yet again, he’s stripped away the defenses I had against a frivolous lord. I’m out of my depth facing only the serious Alaris. The rebel who is plotting against the empire.
“I’ve answered enough questions,” he says, stepping closer. “Now it’s your turn. How did a governess living in Delvos know about recent construction on a wall of the Citadel?”
There’s no way around it now. I don’t know why the words stick on my tongue, when I already planned to reveal the truth.