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Veyka scaled three levels of balconies before she swung herself down, landing with athump. I didn’t have that luxury, losing precious time trailing her as I worked my way down to a silent landing.
It was an empty suite of rooms. Mine, I realized as I followed her inside.
Crafty bitch. She was using the fact that I was now sleeping in her antechamber to her advantage. My hand ached with the desire to smack her bottom—hard.
She sauntered right through them, though her steps were still quiet. I followed her easily, staying well-hidden. She lingered for a moment by the bed—just a breath longer than she should have, not quite breaking step. But enough that I noticed. Alone as I was, I didn’t bother to stop the smirk that I felt come to my face.
I would have Veyka—and soon. The game we were playing would not last much longer. One of us would break. I just had to make sure it was her that ultimately surrendered—not me.
It was a brilliant escape route, really. The elemental court was too afraid of me to come too near my suite of rooms, especially at night when they believed I was occupying them. My own terrestrial companions knew better than to wake me unless there was an emergency of truly dire proportions. Limbs must be missing—important ones—to warrant waking me. Otherwise, I’d remove a few just for spite.
Gwen, of course, knew where I truly spent my nights. She’d ribbed me about it often enough. When I had to leave, to sneak from the palace to let my beast run free, Gwen was the one I left to watch over Veyka.
Veyka cleared the goldstone palace with stunning ease. She avoided guards, slipping through doors that were so well camouflaged in the walls I hardly recognized they were there. Once she reached the secret passages reserved for the royal family and councilors, she started to jog. Her steps echoed with confidence—she was certain that she would not come upon anyone here.
I followed her as swiftly as I could without alerting her to my presence. A few times, the scent of her on the lingering breeze was my only hint to where she’d gone. But my senses had memorized her weeks ago, imprinting her on my consciousness whether I willed it or not.
Unlike the long winding staircase from her route that first night, we descended by levels. Only my vague animal senses were able to keep track, to tell me that we were close to the base of the mountain where the goldstone palace was perched over the city of Baylaur.
Sure enough, I heard the soft click of a door followed by a rush of fresh air. As fresh as the humid desert air of this blasted place could ever be.
I took a brief moment to examine the lock. It latched internally. Which meant that not only was Veyka putting her own life in peril by sneaking out, she was endangering everyone within the palace as well. I’d learned how to move through the magical wards, by shattering them apart. Veyka had as well. What was to stop another powerful interloper?
I would circle the perimeter and tar the doors shut myself if Veyka could not be trusted. Willful brat.
As I stepped through, I heard the subtle snap of a vine.
Clever.
Turning back to the door set behind a thick drapery of ivy—probably courtesy of Osheen—I understood immediately what Veyka had done. She’d threaded some of the vine across the door, through the handle, so that anyone coming in or out of the door would have to break the vine. She couldn’t lock it behind her from the outside, but she’d know if someone entered or exited other than her.
My estimation of her nudged upward, just a little.
Of course, she’d failed to account for a flora-gifted terrestrial.
With a flick of my hand, the vine was back in place, fused together as if it had never been torn apart.
Ahead, a tall sand dune blocked the Effren Valley from view. Veyka was already near the top of it. The moon shone brightly above our heads. Once I stepped out of the shadow of the goldstone palace, I’d be clearly visible if she turned around.
I forced myself to wait, even as my blood thrummed with anticipation in my veins. Beyond the vines hanging from the palace walls, there was little vegetation here to call to my aid. Only sand.
Veyka reached the top.
For a moment, she paused. I imagined I could see her eyes closing as she let the breeze skitter over her skin. Her dark clothing billowed behind her in the desert wind. Silhouetted against the moon, she looked half female, half ghost. Long strands of her white hair had worked loose from her braid, swirling around her with her clothing.
A mythic queen of legend, that was how she looked. All that wanted was a crown and a swirl of elemental magic.
She could be that queen, a voice inside of me said.
I bit my lip to keep in the scoff, even though I was sure she was too far away to hear it.
Veyka cared only about herself. She’d proven it again and again.
A queen that might have been, that’s what she was. The supposed Princess of Peace, who was so concerned about herself she did not care if she risked bringing her kingdom back to the brink of implosion.
She disappeared over the other side of the dune, and I was glad of it. If she’d have lingered another moment, I might have lost my resolve to find out where she was going and dragged her back to the palace.
My temper rearing and raging at my attempts to bridle it, I scaled the dune. When I reached the top, I knew where we were going.
