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“Or if my husband buys it,” Thea said.
“You are married?” Rilion asked as he reached for his cup.
She nodded toward Gil. “We are, yes.”
The prince choked on his drink.
“Forged documents,” Gil said, so quickly he came across flustered. Perhaps he was. “In order to take her past the waypoints in the mountains more easily.”
Rilion gave him an incredulous frown.
Gil straightened as the maid returned and filled his cup with water. “Those documents should allow us to settle things. The building will be purchased in my name—my assumed name—and passed to her upon my supposed death.”
“Dying again, are we?” Rilion asked dryly.
For a moment, Gil appeared aggrieved. “Will you aid me with this or not?”
Thea spared a glance toward the rolled-up poster, then averted her eyes. Half of her wanted to see all that had been written. Did the people of Kentoria really think she'd defeated Gil? It made little sense. The guards had seen them fleeing together. The country was sure to be in turmoil, though, and she knew how easy it was for information to become tangled.
“Fine,” Rilion sighed, exasperated. He took his fork as the maid finished serving each of them and excused herself from the room. “Explain what you need, and I'll make it happen. You've run out of favors, but this...” He trailed off, studying Thea with a speculative eye. He nodded. “I will do this.”
Relief washed over her, a greater comfort than the warm bath she'd just climbed from or the soft bed that still waited upstairs. Thea sank in her chair and pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank you, sincerely. I never imagined I'd be forced so far from home. Until we reached Danesse, I wasn't sure there was any hope left.”
“It hardly seems fair to punish you for being caught in his scheming.” Rilion pointed at Gil with the end of his fork. “Regardless of your reason for being here, I see value in welcoming more artisan mages into the city. You may know this already, but it's not uncommon for those with the talent to leave Ranor once they become proficient in their craft. I fear our economy is not as robust as others. Many seek greener pastures.”
“I doubt there are many places better for a Threadmancer,” Thea said. “I saw the number of sheep your country possesses, and the quality of their wool, as well. Kentoria favors larger livestock. Cattle and such. There's not much of a market for wool spun from cattle, if that's something that can be made at all.”
The prince chuckled and gave an understanding nod. He was not charmed or flattered, but he was receptive to her needs, and that was all that mattered.
They discussed her plans for a shop at length. They spoke of design and where she could source supplies, her intention to provide woolen fabric dyed in new colors not commonly available, the types of magic she considered her own specialties, and what would be forbidden. She wasn't surprised to learn illusions were outlawed in Ranor, but Rilion said nothing about the illusions she'd made for herself, or those Gil would surely continue to wear.
Eventually, though, as she knew it would, conversation lulled, and there was no way to avoid what was left to come.
“Well,” Gil said at last. He'd been silent through much of her conversation with the prince, letting her take the lead, allowing her the space and authority to explain her needs and how she planned to make herself useful. “Now that we've established what you can do for Thea, I suppose we must discuss what you've done for me.”
Rilian had been cheerful for much of their chatter. Now his mouth drew down and he grew solemn. “Yes.”
Gil raised a hand in signal for him to wait, though it was unnecessary. The prince leaned back in his chair and gazed at Thea, his dark eyes once more shaded with supposition. “The manor's maid will see you upstairs,” Gil said. “I shall see you in the morning.”
“Of course.” She met his gaze, her expression as guarded as his. Thoughts of his hand on her thigh stirred butterflies in her chest. Instead of enjoying them, she envisioned herself crushing each of them beneath a boot. The time for that was past. She offered the prince a curtsy and excused herself from the dining hall. The maid met her at the doorway and waved for her to follow. Together, they climbed the stairs to her room.
“I'll bring breakfast to your room in the morning, milady, no need to get yourself out of bed,” the woman said as she opened the door. “Have you any requests?”
“None for breakfast,” Thea muttered. The unwanted clothing had been removed from her bed, but she spied her illusion-imbued garments folded alongside them. “I do have one request, and I admit it may be odd.”
“Oh, that makes me curious,” the maid laughed.
Thea mustered a smile. “This clothing is beautiful, but I admit I prefer my own. Everything I brought with me is filthy after travel, and the dress I brought is in need of repair. Could you show me where the washing is done? I'd like to help wash my things so they can dry overnight and I can deal with them tomorrow.” The maid's eyebrows rose, so she added, “I don't doubt your skill with domestics, but I'd feel better if I could be the one to wash my damaged dress. Just to be certain of what I'll need to repair it.”
“You're right, milady,” the woman said slowly. “A very odd request. But...” Her eyes flicked toward the curtained windows, considering.
“I don't think it'll take long, not with the two of us.” Thea didn't know if cajoling would help, but the maid's expression softened.
Eventually, the maid nodded. “All right. Let's get your things, I'll take you out back and we'll scrub it up all fresh before it gets too late.”
Thea released her breath in a whoosh. “Thank you. I can't say how much I appreciate it.” She hurried to retrieve her cut skirt and bodice while the maid collected the trousers, tunic, and undergarments she'd abandoned earlier. They exited the room together, but the maid turned a different way than before.
“I'll take you out the back way, so we don't disturb milord and His Highness,” she said. “Knowing how men are, they'll be up half the night talking stratagems and whatnot.”
