Page 53
I walk slowly, my fingers trailing above the surface, then pause at a section where the dust has been disturbed.
I reach for the book and pull it free, half expecting a concealed door to swing open.
But nothing happens.
Disappointment washes over me, and I glare at the unremarkable book in my hands. I thumb through the pages, hoping for some hidden compartment or secret message.
Instead, a single sheet of parchment flutters to the floor. I kneel, my breath catching as I turn it over.
It’s a list of names.
Most of them are crossed out, the ink slashing through each one with a finality that sends a chill down my spine. The letters themselves are cramped, the lines harsh and uneven—not the smooth, practiced hand of the king like on the other documents in the study.
My fingers tighten around the paper as I reach the last name, the only one untouched by the inked line that marks the rest.
Espris Pyrakis.
The room seems too small, the air too thin. I stare at the name, my mind reeling. Espris, who hasn’t been seen in almost a week. Espris, whose bed remains untouched.
I glance back at the book, giving it a shake, but nothing else falls loose.
I cross the room and settle into the chair behind the desk. I grab a fresh sheet of parchment from the stack, along with a quill and inkpot. The ink glistens as I dip the quill, the scratch of the nib against the parchment the only sound in the room as I begin to copy the names.
After, I set the quill aside and reach for the pounce pot. I shake the fine powder over the ink to set it, then stand and return everything to its original place. I snatch up my copied list, heart pounding as I retreat through the king’s chambers.
I slip back into the royal gallery, pausing only to secure the lock once again.
I’m almost to Kallias’s chambers when something shifts in my periphery—a flicker of movement, too quick to be a trick of the light.
I unsheathe my dagger and lunge, slamming the figure against the cold stone pillar. The tip of my dagger stills beneath his jaw as moonlight falls across familiar features.
Kallias.
The prince does not flinch, his expression still a mask of that same perpetual boredom I witnessed in the grand hall.
“A word of advice, my prince. Do not try to sneak up on a spy.”
He cocks a brow at me. “What would you have done if it weren’t me? Killed them?”
“What’s a little blood to add to the wine?” I say, finally pulling the dagger away.
His gaze drops, lingering on the wine-stained fabric of my dress where it once again clings across my chest. “Yes, I can see you’re already…soaked.”
“Enjoying the view?” I tease.
His eyes snap back up to mine and the temperature in the gallery rises, but I don’t give him the chance to respond.
“Were you following me?”
“I thought you could use a reminder of your task.”
“And what exactly do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Not much, from what I can tell,” he says. “It’s been two weeks, and you’ve reported nothing. Either you’re the worst spy I’ve ever had the misfortune of coming across, or you’re withholding information from me.”
I take a step back, my gaze never leaving his. “You think this is easy? That the king and the Eagle leave their secrets lying around for anyone to find? If you’re so impatient, perhaps you’d like to handle this yourself.”
He pushes off the wall and steps closer. “If you can’t deliver, then perhaps I need to find someone who can.”
