“Hannah,” I say again. “And no, you’ve helped so much already. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I owe you my life. Both of you.” He nods toward Kane, who’s busy with Shadow as I bend to examine the trunk.
I wipe away the layer of mud around the latch, broken from the wreck. The wood matches the carriage—gleaming silver and encrusted in a glittering powder of sapphires and diamonds. The same cresting, white-tipped waves trace its edges, the water pouring from a single cup carved into the lid.
“If you don’t mind me asking, miss,” Briggs continues, “which kingdom have you traveled from? I haven’t heard an accent like yours before.”
“I’m from the, um, north?” I cough to get Kane’s attention and hope that lifting my brows nearly to my hairline is enough for him to come rescue me…again.
“Whereabout north?” Briggs asks. “The Kingdom of Wands…or…or Swords?”
With a creak of its hinges, I throw open the lid to the unlatched trunk, hoping to distract Briggs from asking any more questions. “Would you look at that?”
His attention drifts to the pristinely folded velvets, silks, and lace within, all hues of rich blues and moonlit silvers.
Briggs stuffs his mud-caked hands into his pocketsas if controlling his compulsion to reach out and touch. “I’ve never seen so many fine garments all in one place.”
I should follow Briggs’s lead and keep my hands to myself, but I don’t. Instead, I wipe them on my dress, because it’s honestly already destroyed and absolutely pales in comparison to what’s inside the trunk, and dig my hands into the cool silk.
My fingers brush against a folded piece of parchment nestled among the luxurious attire. The golden pentacle pressed into the wax seal is already broken, bits of it crumbling away as I carefully unfold the cream-colored paper.
“It’s an invitation,” I say to Kane as he strides over, Shadow not far behind, before I read the elegant script aloud.
The Kingdom of Pentacles cordially invites Lord and Lady Ashwood, the Esteemed Ambassadors of Cups, to a Grand Feast in honor of our great Kingdoms. To take place on the evening of the Full Moon as the Second Star appears.
May the bonds between our lands grow ever stronger,
King Alderic Lockhart III of Pentacles
My heart races as a shiny, brand-new plan forms in my mind. It’s bold and reckless, but brand management has taught me the importance of pulling out all the stops and getting ahead of trends for maximum impact.
“This is it.” I turn to Kane, holding the invitation up like a prize. “This is our way into the palace.”
The carriage creaks as the restless horses stomp and grunt. Briggs casts a worried glance in their direction and jogs to their side. He calms the horses, his soothing murmurs floating to us.
“Your plan is to impersonate nobility?” Kane cocks his chin, and Shadow snorts her disagreement.
“You said yourself that Four speaks for the king and has made sure only those he’s approved can gain entry. He approved the ambassador and his wife. What better way to get inside than to pretend we were invited?”
“This risk doesn’t come without consequences.”
“There are consequences to being left in a world that’s not mine. Kane, I’ve almost died more times in the past few days than the rest of my life combined. And you—you’ve been great. For the most part. Well, kind of.”
Kane frowns, and the line between his brows deepens as he clenches and unclenches his jaw.
“And this has been…different from what I normally do and definitely isn’t something I want to repeat.” I pause, gaining control of my thoughts before I blurt out more irrelevant information. “I need to get the Empress, and you need to stop Four. Think about it. We’ll crash the feast. I’ll get my purse and my way back home. You’ll…I don’t know…do whatever it is you’re going to do. In and out. It’ll be simple.” I draw in a deep breath to steady my racing heart. “But I can’t do it without you. I need a Lord Ashwood.”
Shadow nickers and rubs her whiskered muzzle against Kane, her breath stirring his hair.
“See? Even Shadow knows it’ll work. And Briggs will help us. Won’t you, Briggs?” I call to the redheadwho’s done a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop.
“Of course, miss. I owe you and Sir Kane a life debt.” He frowns. “But you must look the part.”
I glance down at the splatters of mud painting my dress like a Jackson Pollock. I 100 percent get what Briggs means.
With the toe of my boot, I nudge the trunk overflowing with garments fit for nobility. “Dressing the part won’t be an issue.” My gaze lifts to meet Kane and his shoulder-length black waves that make him look as dark and disheveled as Loki.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He stiffens and takes a step back. “I don’t like it.”
