“Do you have it with you?” I asked.
The prince shook his head. “No. I described it to Savaadh, but he didn’t know anything more than we do. The drawing is in the palace, in my rooms.”
Galen looked around. “If this was the Aetheric practitioner’s doing, why isn’t he here? And why not send an Anima?”
“He didn’t show himself in the market,” I said. “He apparently doesn’t want to be seen, and there’s nowhere to hide out here.”
A white-tailed hawk flew over us, and its scream sent shivers down my spine.
“The bandits could be using hawks to send messages,” Galen said. “We should go.”
The prince nodded. “We can continue this discussion in the stronghold, or while moving quickly toward it.”
We all looked back at the carriage. While we’d sniped at each other, Yue had already pulled away the remains of the broken wheel.
She rose, looked at us, then pointed beneath the carriage. “If you’re done arguing, there’s another wheel stored below. Could use some help getting it on.”
“I wasn’t arguing,” I muttered as Galen jogged over. After giving me a long look, the prince joined them.
“I’m sorry, Fox,” Wren said quietly when they were out of earshot.
“A fucking prince,” I said, and indulged myself in a very long sigh. Because there had been a tiny spark of hope that the soldier and I could have been something more.
But he was no soldier. He was a royal. A Lys’Careth. A man who could kill me—or anyone else he wanted—with a word.
As beautiful as a god, but just another ordinary devil.
The second wheel was attached, and we all helped shimmy the carriage into level again. And then it was time to ride.
The prince was already inside when I climbed onto the driving board.
“He only wants to stay alive,” Yue said quietly.
I glanced at her. “So do the rest of us. Smart strongholders stay far away from Lys’Careths.”
I climbed inside, took a seat, and said nothing. I didn’t meet his eyes, but I felt his gaze on me all the same, heavy and grim. We sat in heavy silence until we were well underway and could be sure a second attack wasn’t waiting. Then he leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and frowned down at them.
“Are you angry because I lied, or because of who my father is?”
“Both.” I was disappointed, and that made me furious with myself for getting my hopes up in the first place. I knew better.
“A prince can’t ride through the streets unnoticed,” he said. “He can’t investigate. He has to ask other people to put themselves in danger—again and again—to fix his problems. I don’t find that acceptable, so I play a different role.”
I shook my head. “You shouldn’t lie to people who are trying to help you. Who’ve risked their lives for you.” I didn’t like being a mark.
“Unless telling them would put them in more danger,” he said. “And a lie becomes easier the more often it’s told. But I’m the same person I was in the caravanserai.”
“No, you aren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t feel the need to hide your identity.” I paused. “Savaadh knows who you are?”
The prince nodded. “And who I sometimes pretend to be.”
So Savaadh had also lied to us. Wren and I had played the fools while everyone else understood the truth. “How did he know to go along?”
“I wasn’t dressed as a prince.”
“Did he make up the story about your first meeting?”
“No. It was all true. Except I don’t have bandit hair,” he muttered.
