Chapter 9 Thessia #3
“We’ll see you tomorrow eve, then?” exhorted one bearded man whose visshark mask sparkled silver.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ezio replied.
Thessia watched, intrigued. “Planning tomorrow’s revel while this one’s still on?”
Ezio laughed gracefully. “No, no, it’s—that man is the head of the Fishers’ Guild,” he explained.
“Last year, I commissioned public works to improve the stonework under the city’s docks.
Unfortunately, the enhancements ended up elevating the water level of the entire harbor.
This led the large, low-dwelling fish to move deeper relative to the fishers’ surface level, which challenges their livelihood, given they need the larger fish to—” No doubt noticing Thessia’s expression, the prince paused. “I’m boring you,” he guessed.
Thessia found his modesty even more charming than his princely smile. “Not in the slightest,” she replied honestly.
Indeed, what had fluttered under Thessia’s expression wasn’t impatience. It was envy. Inspiration. Ezio, dashing and caddish,
had molded himself into an experienced and knowledgeable governor.
“You’re well-liked,” she ventured.
Ezio demurred. “I have my moments.”
Something stiff in his voice led Thessia to continue. “Too well-liked, some might say.”
Ezio watched her closely. They spun under the chandelier. “Spoken with our nobles, have you?”
“Kingly was the word they used,” Thessia confirmed.
Ezio frowned as if the compliment unnerved him. “I care very deeply for my realm,” he explained slowly. “Our people care for
me in return. This has led certain proponents of my parents to fear I may . . . challenge their reign. It is a risk I consider
worth taking.”
Challenge. Thessia heard the unspoken synonym. Coup. Curiosity and concern for the young prince made her lean closer.
“What do you think?” she murmured. “Would you consider yourself kingly?”
Ezio smiled, understanding the concealed question. But when he winked rakishly, Thessia knew she would receive no straightforward
information. Only spinning sidesteps like those of this dance.
“If I’m kingly, I’ll need a queen to share my dances with,” Ezio returned.
“I’m married,” Thessia reminded him. “You forget yourself.”
“Never,” Ezio replied.
“May I cut in?”
The dance had returned them to Hugh. Obligingly, Ezio released her into Hugh’s embrace, then whirled away with his new partner,
whose dress seemed to change swirling patterns on its own.
“We were speaking of your lead on Galwell?” Hugh prompted. Thessia caught her husband’s eyes following Ezio with something
like . . .
No. Only Thessia envied the prince this evening, surely.
“There is a royal spymaster,” she informed Hugh. “The younger prince, Ario. If anyone knows of evildoers working with the
Deathrose Guild in Vestriya, the royal spymaster would be the man. Unfortunately,” Thessia continued, “he’s not here this evening.”
Hugh nodded. When the dance changed direction, he led them gracefully while the chandelier cast indigo over the masked crowd.
The illumination’s color changed, and suddenly, in the golden glow, shimmering apparitions of enormous eagles soared overhead,
luminous wings outstretched. Dancers gasped in delight.
Hugh held her close. “I can help,” he said, his voice low. “I planned on getting drinks with palazzo guardsmen and foot soldiers
later tonight. They’re likely to know where the spymaster could be found.”
“Hugh,” Thessia exhaled. “That’s perfect. Thank you.” When he only smiled with modest pride, guilt found Thessia. “I’m sorry,”
she went on. “Sincerely. For leaving you here earlier this evening without explanation.”
Hugh dipped her with gentle grace. “It’s fine, Thess. Tabitha was pleasant company. I do worry for her, though,” he said with what Thessia considered entirely charming concern. “Does she ever wish for . . . her own life?”
“Tabitha has been with me since we were five years old. Never has she been confined to my retinue,” she reassured Hugh. “She’s
the daughter of a minor noble. Unkind, manipulative man. He gets his daughter close to the throne, Tabitha gets to leave her
cruel home. Everyone wins,” she concluded. “She imitates me perfectly, does she not?”
Hugh frowned in contemplation. “Well enough,” he said. “But the flecks in her eyes do not sparkle the way yours do. She is
not prone to raising her chin when she asks questions, like you do. Nor does she do this thing where, when you find something
sincerely humorous, you smile with one side of your mouth.”
Thessia found herself disarmed. “I—”
“I must cut in once more.”
Hugh stiffened, but propriety demanded he and Ezio exchange dance partners again.
Thessia was surprised to find no debonair flirtation on the prince’s half-masked expression. Ezio looked grave. “I could not
help but overhear you discussing our royal spymaster.”
Thessia faltered. “We—how could you—” Did the prince have magically enhanced hearing? Or merely loyal listeners everywhere?
“I must warn you,” Ezio went on, “my brother is not . . . like me. Do not seek him out. Our spymaster is our realm’s most
dangerous man, his cunning and mercilessness unrivaled. Except by Benjamin, of course.”
“Who,” Thessia asked, “is Benjamin?”
“His enforcer.”
Thessia gulped. Though new to heroics, Thessia knew confronting people with “enforcers” was not recommended.
Galwell would do it for me, she reminded herself.
Summoning her friend’s courage, she straightened her shoulders under the prince’s grasp.
“I must. My companion’s safety may depend upon information your sibling possesses.
Surely you understand”—she met his golden eyes—“some risks are worth taking.”
Ezio regarded her. Overhead, the chandelier changed once more to deep red. Scarlet light engulfed Ezio’s face as conjured
windsnakes erupted from the chandelier’s limbs overhead.
“Please return me to my husband,” Thessia ordered him.
The prince did not protest. In swift, sweeping strides, they crossed the chaotic salon, and Ezio passed Thessia wordlessly
to Hugh.
“Nice mask,” Ezio remarked.
“Thank you,” Hugh replied. “I’m a goat.”
Thessia smiled with one side of her mouth.