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I didn’t have that luxury.
“What if you didn’t smash it?” I say. My mouth has gone a bit dry, but my brain is as sharp as ever. “What if we could find out what’s inside that room without leaving any evidence?”
“Captain Blakemore surely still has people watching me—”
“Not you,” I say. “Me.”
Corrick’s eyes are intent and fixed on mine. “You.”
“I may not be a good liar, and I’d make a terrible spy. But perhaps you’ve forgotten, Your Highness.” I twist my fingers with his and smile. “Before I was an apothecary in service to the king, I was a rather good thief.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Harristan
We’re stopped at the gate.
At first, this isn’t a surprise. I don’t have a pocket watch on me, but it’s still early, and ever since explosives made it into the Royal Sector, the guards at the gate are more cautious about closed carriages.
Thorin and Saeth are palace guards, though, in livery that designates them as members of my personal guard. Our halt at the sector gates shouldn’t take long. A pause, nothing more.
It’s more.
As time ticks on, I look across the carriage at Quint, who’s trying not to look worried, but I can see in his eyes that he’s registered the delay, too.
I strain my ears to listen, but the voices are a bare rumble of unintelligible sound. The carriage windows are set with thick glass—meant to maintain privacyinside—and we have the woolcurtains drawn closed so no one could see me. My heartbeat finds a rapid rhythm and refuses to settle.
I shift to the window, ignoring the throb in my leg when the wound pulls and aches. I slide a hand below the curtain and gently ease the latch to the side, then push with my fingertip to slide the glass as slowly as possible.
Quint is watching me with wide eyes, but he says nothing. It looks like he’s holding his breath, listening just as hard as I am.
“—king’s business,” Thorin is saying, his voice muffled and distant because he must be on the other side of the carriage. “You have no right to demand a search of this vehicle.”
My eyes lock on Quint’s. If anyone sees me like this, the rumors would not be good.
And why are they demanding a search?
“We’ve been given orders directly from the palace,” a man says sharply. “No one enters the sector without being searched.”
“I didn’t give those orders,” I whisper to Quint. “Was this because I was missing?”
His expression is grave. “No. No one was aware you were missing.” He takes a deep breath and flicks his gaze over my form, from my injured leg to the bloodstains that seem to be everywhere. “I should’ve thought to bring appropriate attire.”
Outside the carriage, Thorin is snapping at the gate guard. “Our orders supersede yours. You will stand down and allow us to pass.”
“You will allow us to search your carriage, or you will have to answer to Captain Huxley,” says the gate guard. The door to the carriage rattles, and I freeze, drawing back against the wall as if I could disappear.
But then something slams against the door, and Saeth speaks.“If you try to force your way into this carriage, you will find a fight you’re not ready for.”
I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know why we’re being stopped, or why they’re demanding to search this carriage.
I do know my guards shouldn’t risk their lives because I’m scared of idle gossip.
I steel my spine and shift forward, intending to open the door, to put an end to this. I’ll declare myself and we can be on our way.
But then the gate guard snorts and says, “What’s wrong? Did you catch the king yourself? I’m not looking to snag your reward. I’m just following orders.”
I stop with my hand on the latch.
