“Not yet. Consider this an introduction to the benefits of living in a royal palace.”
There was a knock on the door. He opened it and a woman walked in. She wore a long simple dress of dark blue fabric and had a silver chatelaine at her waist. Her skin was light brown, and her dark, wavy hair was pieced with silver and fell to hershoulders. Her eyes were hazel, and there was experience in them that said she was rarely surprised by much anymore.
“Fox, this is Talia, my chief steward. Talia, Fox.”
“A pleasure,” she said with a smile. “His Highness has made arrangements.”
“Arrangements? For what?” I looked at them both suspiciously.
A corner of her mouth curved. “For a moment to yourself.”
I didn’t have time to ask what she meant before the prince—the prince—scooped me up and into his arms.
“What in Oblivion are you doing?” But figuring a drop to the stone floor would be unpleasant, I put my arms around his neck. Only because of the risk.
“You’re still weak, and it seems unchivalrous to require Talia to carry you.”
“But your arm—”
“Will be fine. Sanj is a very good physician. He was glad you doused it with wine. Not glad you stole the rest of the jar.”
“It wasn’t theft. You watched me take it.”
“That’s an interesting line to draw,” he murmured, and stepped from the room into a wide hallway with an arched ceiling, shadows speared through by rays of sunlight from glass windows taller than I was. The walls and floor were gleaming stone that seemed to glitter in the light, and golden torches cast their reflection beautifully upon them.
“Welcome to the Western Palace, Little Fox.”
We stepped into an octagonal space with more glossy stone, each soaring wall bearing floor-to-ceiling murals of pitched battles between armored warriors. Banners with “Etoris Eni Vistes,” the Lys’Careths’ motto, in letters taller than me were painted across each mural.
“Glorifying war?” I wondered.
“Glorifying Carethia and her triumphs.”
I wasn’t sure that was much different.
We passed through the octagon, then reached a doorway at the end of a dark corridor. He put me down in front as Talia opened the door, and a billowing cloud of steam that smelled of expensive oils and mountain forest rolled out.
I curled my lip. “Is this the laundry?”
Talia snickered.
“In a manner of speaking,” the prince said. I followed him into a large room with slatted wooden floors and linen partitions that hung from the ceiling and moved in the steamy air.
“As you can see,” Talia said, “all has been prepared.”
“I appreciate your quick work.” He glanced at me. “When you’re done, she’ll take you back to your room.”
My room. A room for a thief in this luxurious and labyrinthine palace.
Then he pulled a silver square from his pocket and extended it to me. It was cold and shiny and would have garnered me many coins in the market—at least before the dealer decided I’d stolen it and called the garrison. Its corners were rounded, and in the center of the square was an indentation. A seal had been pressed into it, and I ran my thumb over the soft ridges. It was the tiger on the prince’s banner, twined with the bloom of a mountain lily.
“That’s my seal,” he said, “and a token of the Western Palace. The staff is aware you’re here, and you can move about the palace as you wish. But in case there’s trouble, that”—he tapped a finger on the metal—“will prove that you are a guest.”
Not just a chamber of my own, but (mostly) free run of the palace. Fate’s tapestry was warped today.
“I’ll leave you,” the prince said. He turned, then paused. “It’s good to see you again, Fox.”
Before I could respond—or ask him not to leave me alone with strangers—the door was closed.
