“It isn’t official yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
I nodded sagely. “Of course.”
Apparently dissatisfied with my nonreaction, she pressed on. “In the meantime, princes will do what they will with…who they will. It’s in their blood and their training.”
“In their training?”
“To sample the horses in the stable, you might say.”
I was apparently the horse.
“But even if a prince cavorts with animals,” she continued, “he will not marry them. He will only marry a noblewoman—someone with training and skill and the ability to manage a place like this.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not certain I understand.” I frowned.“Are you concerned about courtesans? I haven’t been here long, but I haven’t seen any in the palace.”
“I don’t care about damned courtesans.” But she cared enough that a flush rose on her cheeks. Probably brought up to be prudish.
She moved closer and considered me with a narrowed gaze. There was frustration there, anger, and maybe a little fear. “I suppose you think you’re clever, having made it into the palace.”
It was getting harder now to keep the bland smile on my face. “Your Ladyship, I’m here because the prince and I happen to have a mutual enemy—an enemy who wants the prince dead and who killed a strongholder last night.” Another strongholder, I thought, and felt immeasurably sad.
She just snorted. “The prince is well guarded, and now I’ve added my soldiers to his. He won’t need your ghost-finding soon enough.”
This time, I moved closer, looked her in the eyes, and let my bland smile slip away. She had power and money behind her. I had years of calluses and hunger and scraping by. She may have been royal, but I was tired of being intimidated by people like her. I was so tired.
Her eyes widened with surprise, with concern, that the servant she’d just insulted was moving ever closer, and looking none too friendly. She thought I was dangerous.
I found that very satisfying.
“There’s a petal on your sleeve,” I said politely, and plucked the blossom from her gown, let it drop to the ground.
Her lips moved, but she didn’t make a sound. And then she turned and walked away.
It was a kind of victory, but I didn’t feel much like a winner.
My heart was still racing, my soul still tired. Mindlessly, I walked all the way to the wall, then all the way across the grounds to the opposite wall. The sky was going pink at the horizon when I reached the palace again; I’d spent most of the day on my pilgrimage, and it hadn’t helped.
I needed out of this damned place. I needed to breathe. I needed Wren. And I needed all of that without guards following me through the stronghold, which seemed inevitable if they knew I was leaving it without the prince at my side.
So I was going over the wall.
Well, not literally over it. A thief never said never, but the wall was too high to scale without proper planning, which I didn’t have. But I knew how to blend, how to be invisible. So we’d see if I could make it out of the palace without the prince’s guards being any the wiser. I bet myself a gold coin that I could do it.
I found my old clothes cleaned, mended, and neatly folded in a trunk in my room. I pulled them on, tied my hair into its usual braid. My old boots, Wren’s knife. Out of habit, I picked up the coin purse of princely brocade and nearly tucked it into my tunic. But I didn’t even want that reminder of the palace. Not tonight. Instead, I pulled out a few coins and slipped them into my clothes.
“Going for a walk,” I told the guard. It wasn’t Pax, and I got only a mild nod.
If I wasn’t scaling the wall, I’d have to go through the front gate. I slipped silently through the palace’s passageways, ducking once behind a column as servants carried baskets to the storeroom. The throne room door was closed, and no lightshone through. Maybe the prince was dining with Catalaya, which I didn’t want to think about.
I ignored the guards inside the palace’s front doors, held up the badge the prince had given me, and walked outside. It was a gorgeous night, with the scent of blossoms in the air.
The palace’s tower now thrusting into the air behind me, I walked down the long bank of stairs that led to the courtyard between the palace and the wall. Twilight cast long shadows over the palace grounds, but it wasn’t dark enough for me to make a run for the door. So instead of heading for the guardhouse, I crept to the corner of the palace. There were flowering trees here, and I ducked beneath one, leaned back against the trunk, and watched the guards patrol.
At the sound of rumbling to my left, I glanced back. A man drove a horse-drawn cart filled with enormous jars that were probably empty of sweetwine and headed to vineyards for refilling. Two guards walked in front of him, shepherding him from the kitchens to the guardhouse to ensure he didn’t make trouble along the way.
Maybe my luck was turning around.
The cart passed, the merchant regaling his escorts with talk of grapes and sunshine and vine rot. The moment the sun dipped below the palace wall, I snuck into the back of the cart, slinking between the jars and beneath a hemp cloth rumpled behind them. The horse whinnied at the shifting weight, and I imagined the driver looked back. But he said nothing, and the cart kept moving.
