On her way back to the palace, she thought it strange how quickly Dax acted. As if the new candidates for the council had been determined long before now and not decided overnight when he caught his council members meeting without him.
As if... as if he hadn’t forgotten his treaty promises but had simply been waiting for the right opportunity to set them in motion.
Roa stepped up to the palace gates. The soldats standing guard stopped her.
“My queen?” The young man’s eyes widened at the sight of Roa, dressed in the same uniform as him. “But you... I swear you just passed this way.”
“That was Celeste,” she said, explaining what happened.
His eyes widened further. “Well, she caused quite a stir. She had to be carried inside.”
“What? Why?”
“They started throwing rocks, my queen. One hit her in the head.”
Guilt flooded Roa. She was the reason Celeste was in disguise. If they hadn’t changed clothes...
“Where is she?”
“We can take you to her.”
Roa looked up to find four soldats approaching. Three men and a woman, ranging in ages. The one who spoke looked twice her age. He had a wide face and kind eyes partially shadowed by the brim of his morion.
“I know where they took Celeste.”
“Show me.”
He turned and led her into the palace while the other three soldats flanked her. They stood too close though. More than once, their shoulders brushed Roa’s, making her wonder how new they were to their posts.
They took her down corridors she’d never been before, then led her out onto an unpolished marble terrace, down an old mosaicked staircase, and into one of the palace’s inner orange groves. It was less well kept than any of the palace gardens or orchards.
As the trees swayed around her, Roa realized she had no idea where she was.
“This is far enough, I think,” said the soldat to Roa’s right, glancing back over her shoulder. She had a slender, wolfish face and blue-gray eyes.
Far enough?
A sudden unease spread through Roa. She looked around them. Except for the sound of birdsong and the wind hushing through the leaves, this part of the palace seemed deserted.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere no one can hear you.” The man with the eyes Roa once thought kind drew both of her sabers—or rather,Celeste’s sabers—and pointed them at her chest. To two of the others, he said, “Go keep watch.”
It wasn’t fear that swept through Roa as the soldats nodded, jogging back through the grove. It was ire, sharp and honed. She’d had quite enough of being cornered and caged in. Before they could come any closer, she slid her hand into Celeste’s boot, where Essie’s knife was hidden, and drew it out.
The soldat behind her—the wolfish young woman—moved toward her.
Roa turned quickly, lifting her sister’s knife. “Take one step closer and it will be the last step you ever take.”
“Such bravado!” said the first soldat—the older man—from behind her. “Unfortunately, there is only one of you and many of us.” The way he said it made Roa think he didn’t just mean the soldats in this grove, but those beyond it.
“This is for the safety of the kingdom,” said the woman before Roa with all the confidence of someone convinced their cause was just. “You’re a danger to us—the king most of all.”
The man behind her took another step. Too close. Roa lifted the knife once more, her grip tightening on the hilt, trying to keep her eyes on both soldats at once.
“You’re a traitor and a spy,” the woman continued, stepping closer from the other side. “Everyone knows you’re planning to kill the king and take the throne for yourself.”
Roa kept her knife on the first while looking over her shoulder at the second. It was all she could do against both armed guards.
