Adalbrecht scowls. “Come in, boy, let’s have a look at you.” Emeric steps into the parlor, shuffling nervously as Adalbrecht looks him up and down. Unsurprisingly, the margrave is not impressed, because his next question is a terse “When will Klemens get here?”
“M-Monday, sir.” Emeric wrings his hands. Now that I know it’s a ruse, I can see how calculated it is, how each darting glance to me is as sharp as a needle prick.
Wait. Klemens’s letter said he’d arrive on the sixth—Sunday. Why is Emeric lying? To make me think I have more time before I have to face arealprefect?
“Hmm.” Adalbrecht fishes anotherweysserwurstfrom the tureen and slices a hole at the end. “Well? What do you want with my bride?”
Emeric looks to me as Adalbrecht begins to suck the meat from its wilting casing. I’m starting to wonder how many consecutive mornings the junior prefect is going to spend being bullied by sausage.
“I do apologize,” he says with a bare glint of an edge, “but I’m afraid my notes have been . . . misplaced. I need to retake theprinzessin’s statement, and I did not think we would wish to disrupt the margrave’s day.”
Oh,absolutelynot. The moment we’re alone, he’ll try to clap me in irons again, that’s what he’s here for. But I’m not the only one whose cover can be blown. “What grave news. It would be dreadful ifallyour hard work was discovered by the wrong person. Have you tried retracing your steps?”
The faintest hint of irritation flickers over Emeric’s face. “Indeed I did, Princess Gisele. All the way back to the Gänslinghaus.”
To the—
The smile freezes on my face. That’s Gisele’s orphanage.
Scheit, scheit, scheit.
He’s found her. And unlike all the times Gisele came to plead among the beggars, the Order of Prefects can help her demand an audience now.
Howdarehe stick his nose in this. This should have stayed between me and Gisele, he hadnobusiness interfering.
Cold fury washes through me. I decide to give as good as I’m getting. “My parlor was cleared out after we spoke,” I say sweetly, “but I’ll have my maid Marthe check with therussmagdt, see if she found anything in the cinders.”
I can tell when Emeric connects the dots, because first he goes white as his starchedkrebatte, then livid red. It doesn’t matter that his notes are currently stashed under my pillow; as far as he knows, they’re ashes in my hearth, and the glitter of barely smothered outrage in his eyesalmostmakes me feel good as new.
Then a broad hand lands on mine. This time, all of me freezes, even with the layer of lace between us. A distant part of me notes Adalbrecht’s managed to replace his signet ring already, its golden edges pushing into my flesh.
My throat tightens. It’s been over a year since I learned what sort of manMarkgrafvon Reigenbach is, but a lesson like that lives in your bones.
“Prefect.” Adalbrecht drops the empty sausage casing on the pile with his other hand. “My bride is going to be occupied for most of the week. I will let you know if she finds time.” Something in his tone shifts even stonier. “Join us at the ball on Sunday. We’ll be signing the marriage contract and can always use an extra witness.”
A ghost of a furrow appears in Emeric’s brow before smoothing out. “I thank you for the honor, sir, but a commoner like myself—”
“Nonsense. You’ll be our guest.” Adalbrecht grips my hand even tighter. I can’t think of an excuse to pull away, there’s a panicked, empty fog in my skull like I’m free-falling, I just want him to stop touching me—
“Then I must accept, sir,” Emeric says, sounding oddly hasty. “Thank you again.”
Adalbrecht lets me go so he can bob for anotherweysserwurst. “Oh, and you’re welcome to bring a guest.”
Emeric looks dead at me, mouth in a thin line. “You’re very generous, sir. I believe I know exactly who to bring.”
The absolute theatricalbastard. He’s going to bring Gisele.
“Good,” Adalbrecht says smoothly. “You’re dismissed.”
A stiff beat passes. Emeric is neither servant, subject, nor soldier of the margrave and he doesn’t have to take Adalbrecht’s orders. But he evidently knows better than to dispute them either, for all he does is bow. “Good day to you both.”
He shoots me another look from the hallway on his way out.
Adalbrecht watches him go, expression darkening. “I suspect that boy’s taken an interest in you,” he says, sour. “Animproperone. I won’t indulge it.”
I stare at Adalbrecht. Somehow, I’d forgotten all about that angle, but I suppose Emeric did just give a very convincing argument in favor. The absurdity shakes a borderline-hysterical giggle from my panic. “That suits me very well.”
Adalbrecht’s frown deepens. “It should.” He wads up the paper of Franziska’s plans for the chapel decorations, then tosses it lazily into the fireplace. “I want the schematics completely done over for the Göttermarkt by lunch. Now, the guests . . .”
