“Apologies,” Nik said. “We spend more time than we like battling assumptions about the prince.”
“I’d love to be proved wrong,” I said, and meant it.
“How long,” Nik asked after a moment, “do traces of Aether remain?”
I lifted a shoulder. “It depends. There’s still a trace on Innis, but he was permeated with it. There wasn’t a trail in the market after it happened. Which means you’re looking for someone very powerful—powerful enough to have learned how to force a possession, and to have concealed their escape.”
“Someone wants your prince dead because he’s a Lys’Careth,” Wren said. “They said so in the market.”
I nodded. “And that someone has powerful magic, the coin to hire a dozen assassins, and the confidence to attack him in public. It’s someone who doesn’t care how many commoners get hurt.”
“The list of the prince’s enemies is long and distinguished,” Nik said. “Enemies of Carethia. Enemies of the Emperor Eternal. One of the prince’s brothers. The Emperor Eternal separates his sons, sends them to the gates; they still look for ways to kill each other.”
“Sounds like being royal is a shit job,” Wren said.
“Watch the insubordination,” Galen warned.
Wren rolled her eyes. “Can’t be insubordinate when I’m not your subordinate in the first place.”
Nik held up a hand to stop another argument. “Enough.” The word fell like an order, and even Wren shifted her gaze to him.
“The assassin failed,” Nik said, “but only just. He’ll probably try again, and the prince wants to be ready in case he does.” He looked at Wren. “Would you share your elderbalm remedy? It seems to help.”
Wren gave him a considering look—she didn’t like sharing her secrets—but she nodded and pulled a scrap of parchment from her tunic. “I brought this for Ferren, but she memorized it.” And probably couldn’t read it anyway. Learning letters was a luxury many strongholders couldn’t afford.
“Thank you,” Nik said, tucking it into his uniform. “I hope it won’t be necessary, but it’s better to be prepared in case we can’t find the practitioner—and stop him.” There was a severity in his tone that said he’d do whatever necessary to accomplish that.
He looked at me. “I want to see the communal garden. Do you know where it is?”
“Of course.”
“Will you lead us there?”
“No,” I said. “We have work. There are plenty in the stronghold who could take you, including every soldier in the garrison.”
“And how many of them can track Aether, if there’s some trail of it left behind?”
No one else, as far as I knew.
“How much are you offering to pay?”
Galen sniffed disdainfully. “You should be willing to assist the Western Prince without payment.”
“Why?” I asked. “Do you work for free?”
“I’m paid because I risk my life.”
“You’re paid because it’s your job. I have a job, and it’s not risking my life for a prince again. Not for free.”
“It wouldn’t be for free,” Nik interrupted. He pulled a small leather pouch from his tunic and held it up. “You’ll lead us to the communal garden and, while there, look for traces of Aether or Anima. In exchange, you get this.”
I held out a hand, and he dropped the bag into it, his fingers just grazing my palm.
I could feel Wren’s hard stare, and I knew there were a thousand reasons to say no, including the fact that I’d be purposefully jumping into royal trouble. Again. But Luna—and every human in the stronghold—was at risk as long as the practitioner was free. If I was the only one who had the skill to find him, shouldn’t I try?
“One moment,” I said, taking Wren’s arm and leading her several strides away.
“No,” she said.
