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“I’ll make sure Domna Caster gets home safely,” said Conor. Most would have turned smartly on their heel at his tone; Antonetta looked at Lin, who nodded, as if to say,It’s all right, go ahead.
At the door, Antonetta paused. She looked back over her shoulder—not at Conor, Kel thought with surprise, but at him.There was something in her eyes, a sort of guarded playfulness, that said,I pulled this off, and we both know it.
But there was nothing he could say aloud. She left, the door drifting closed behind her, and something in Kel wondered: Was this how it was to be now? Antonetta Alleyne, popping in and out of his life with no warning? He did not like the thought. He preferred to be able to prepare himself to see her. Jolivet had taught him for years the dangers of being caught off guard.
“So,” said Kel, turning to Conor, “I take it your meeting with Lady Alleyne was cut short?”
But Conor didn’t answer. He was studying Lin, who had slung her satchel over her shoulder. “I must go,” she said. “I have other patients to see this afternoon.” She nodded awkwardly at Conor and said, “You need not worry I will return. Kel requires nothing more from me.”
“Kel?” Conor echoed. “What a familiar way for a citizen to address a noble.”
Lin’s eyes flashed. “It must be my terrible ignorance speaking. All the more reason I should leave you to your afternoon.”
Conor pushed a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “I will escort you to the North Gate, then.”
“That is not necessary—”
“It is,” Conor drawled. “You are Ashkar, but wearing the clothes of a Castellani. I believe those colors, those fabrics, are forbidden to you. It is unlikely anyone would notice or guess, but still a danger.”
“Conor—” Kel began.
“I may not agree with those Laws,” said Conor, “but they are the Laws.” His gaze flicked over her. “You have certainly taken a great risk for our friend Kel here. A dedicated physician indeed.”
Lin’s face was composed, but her eyes burned with anger. “I have my own clothes in my satchel. If I could use your tepidarium, I can change—”
“Then you will be wandering about the grounds as an Ashkar, which will invite yet more questions. I suggest you change in thecarriage. Before you reach the city, of course, or you’ll be giving passersby an unexpected thrill.”
Lin opened her mouth—then closed it again, seeming to realize there was no point in objecting. She followed Conor out into the corridor, pausing only to cast an apologetic look at Kel over her shoulder. He wondered what she was sorry for. Conspiring with Antonetta? Dropping a message from the Ragpicker King into his lap and leaving without an explanation? Still, anyone willing to stand up to Conor had nerve, and he admired that. Shaking his head with a half smile, he took out the note she had given him and scanned the few lines scribbled on the paper in a surprisingly inelegant hand.
I know about the debt and the Crawlers. Come and see me if you wish to protect your Prince.
—
The Prince was silent as Lin kept pace with him: down the long marble corridor, the curving stairs, out into the bright sunlight. The first night she had come to Marivent it had been dark, nearly moonless, washing the courtyard garden of the Castel Mitat clean of color. Now she saw that it was beautiful: Roses tumbled down trellises that clung to the stone walls like a lover’s hand, golden poppies spilled from the necks of stone pots, spiked purple salvia bordered the curving paths that snaked through the grass. A small fountain plashed beneath a tiled sundial; etched on the dial’s face was a line from an old Castellani love song:Ai, las tan cuidava saber d’amor, e tan petit en sai.Alas, how much I thought I knew of love, and yet how little I know.
“Now is when you tell me,” said the Prince, “that Bensimon failed to tell you I forbade you from returning to the Palace.”
Lin had been aware of him, of course, even as she had been looking at the garden. He was leaning now against one wall of the Castel, a booted foot up behind him. His hair was a tangle of black curls, his eyes silver in the sunlight. The color of needles and blades.
She said, “He told me.”
The corner of the Prince’s mouth twitched—in anger or amusement, Lin could not tell. “I offer you a way out,” he said, “and you do not take it. Leaving me to wonder: What is wrong with you, precisely?”
“Only that I am a physician,” said Lin. “And as such, I wanted—”
“It does not signify, what you wanted,” he said. “When I command you to do something, it is not an idle request. I would have thought your grandfather would have made you aware of that much, at least.”
“He has. But Kel is my patient. I needed to see if he was healing properly.”
“We are not completely incompetent here at Marivent,” the Prince said. “Somehow we have managed all these years without you, and are not all dead as a result.” He plucked the bloom of a passionflower from a cascading vine and spun it between his fingers. Smiled at her, but not with his eyes. “When I say,do not return to the Palace,that does not mean,unless you feel like it.People have been thrown in the Trick for less.”
Lin could see the Trick from where she stood: a long, narrow spike of black, piercing the sky. A wave of anger rolled through her. There were no trials for those sent toLa Trecherie,no Justicia. Only the snap of royal fingers, the whim of a king or queen.Here is a man,she thought,who has never worked for the power he holds. He believes he can demand anything, order anything, for he has never been refused. He is rich and lucky and beautiful, and he thinks the world and everything in it belongs to him.
“Go ahead, then,” she said.
“What?”
“Throw me in the Trick. Call the Castelguards. Put me in a cell.” She held her hands out, wrists crossed, as if ready for the shackles. “Bind me. If that is what you want.”
