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“My employer,” Tes lied easily. Her friend might sell wares for a variety of classes, but she was most known for serving the palace. “The lady of the house insisted I bring back a crate of the best.”
“You’ll want Cairi’s Star, then,” the merchant said.
Tes dutifully listened to his directions, even though she already knew where the shop could be found. This was for the benefit of the guard who’d been eyeing her—and anyone who might have been surreptitiously following. The average visitor wouldn’t head right for a renowned light globe maker, after all.
She pretended to muddle her way through the directions, even turning down the wrong street once. It was probably unnecessary, but she’d learned her lesson during her spying mission in Llyalia—success was in the small details. If she’d been just a touch more careful, Mehl never would have identified her second disguise. It might have turned out well in the end, but that lapse could have been a terrible disaster.
Finally, she ducked through the door of her friend’s shop. It was humbler than it could have been, considering Cairi’s typical clientele, but far fancier than the booths Tes had passed. This was a permanent building, sturdy and well-designed, withthe workshop in a separate structure behind. Inside, wood-and-glass shelves lined the walls and took up much of the floor space, highlighting a small fortune in magecrafted globes.
Sometimes Senna, the jaunty shopkeeper, greeted her across the open central aisle, but Cairi herself looked up from the counter today.
Though they were alone, only the briefest flare of surprise and joy flared over her friend’s face before it was stifled. “May I help you?”
Tes bobbed her head, a show of respect a princess would never give an artisan. “I’m supposed to buy a set of your finest mage globes, but I confess I have another question to ask.”
Cairi’s brow rose. “And what is that?”
“Are you in need of an apprentice?” Tes held her hand up, light sparking above her palm. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for this very chance.”
It wasn’t merely a continuation of the role Tes had played since stepping through the portal—the request itself was a code. So Cairi barely hesitated, a pause easily attributed to simple consideration. “Senna should return in a moment to mind the counter. If you’ll wait in the back room, I’ll escort you to the workshop for testing as soon as she does.”
“Oh, thank you,” Tes gushed. Like the young, innocent visitor she was pretending to be, she clapped her hands and bounced on her feet. “You’ll not regret it, I vow.”
She would do her best to ensure those words remained true, though they both knew the vow itself was a lie. Helping Tes outside of the king’s purview brought inevitable risk, and it would only be worse if he truly wanted her dead. But Cairi understood.
“No matter the outcome, I’m sure I won’t.” The mage smiled. “It shouldn’t be but a moment more if you’ll go ahead.”
With mock subservience, Tes hurried through the door and into the small office adjoining a storeroom. It wasn’t a place a stranger would typically be invited to, but Cairi probably hadn’t wanted Senna to see Tes yet. The shopkeeper would recognize her as the maid from the palace, and that would be harder to reconcile with Tes’s current guise.
One of the many complications they would have to work out.
Workingin the king’s study tended to be both the best and the worst part of Ber’s day—best because he was free of court machinations and worst because he was forced to be alone with Ryenil. And the work itself…every time he had to balance what should be done with what the king wanted to decree, he lost a little of his soul. It bled into the ink each time he signed his name, sealing him into countless awful deeds.
Not that every decision was a bad one—even a tyrant had to worry about balance. But today alone, he’d approved the removal of a village to make way for a local lord’s festival field. Not for open festivals, of course. Only for noble friends. The village had to relocate to a rockier, less fertile bit of land nearly a day’s ride away.
There was sure to be trouble from the rash decision, but the lord had argued that his region produced plenty of food. The king had merely shrugged and let the man have his way. “The commoners always adapt,” he’d said. Maybe they did—but they shouldn’t have to. Tending to the people’s welfare was literally the purpose of royalty and nobility alike.
Even so, Ber signed his name to the horrid document and placed it atop its equally unscrupulous brethren. The increasing slide into corruption would bring serious trouble within thedecade. However, if someone like Duke Aony managed to wrest away power, that time would shorten. The lower classes could not withstand that kind of upheaval, not after being weakened for so long.
After a quick knock, the castle steward stepped just inside the door. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. Your Highness. Duke Aony seeks an immediate audience concerning his most recent assignment.”
Ah, the torture.Just another lovely day in Centoi.
“I will allow it,” Ryenil said.
As soon as the door closed behind the steward, Ber frowned over at the king, whose larger desk took up much of the wall to Ber’s right. “Do you think he’s found anything useful, Father?”
“Not from the messenger,” Ryenil said. “One of the guards present at the questioning has already reported back to me, and nothing useful was said. What will be of interest is whether Aony lies.”
When it came to deception, the truth often made the best ally. A lesson best remembered now. “The duke may act rashly in defense of the kingdom, since he is uncertain of me as heir. I’ve heard he expressed misgivings about my meeting with High King Toren during my last visit to Llyalia. Aony must be worried about the private conference.”
Ryenil waved a hand. “It was a good method, lying about some new condition so you could threaten Toren away from court. Keeping him off balance would have been of benefit if that healer hadn’t failed to eliminate the woman and her spawn.”
The steward returned with Duke Aony before Ber could reply, but it was just as well. The brief conversation had served its purpose in reminding Ryenil that he’d been told about the meeting with Toren. Of course, no one from Centoi knew what hadreallytaken place inside that room in the Llyalian palace, but the king believed he did. That was the most important part.
As the steward departed, Duke Aony bowed to Ryenil and inclined his head toward Ber. “Thank you for granting my request, Your Majesty.”
“I understand you have completed the interrogation?” Ryenil asked.
