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She snorted, but her smile was warming. “What do you want, Lark?”
“Oh, just a little thing… Nothing, really…”
“Spit it out.”
“See to it the king’s aides are delayed from tending his chambers?”
Ellyn narrowed her eyes. “The king? Why? What are you doing?”
A kitchenhand passed us by, carrying a tub of sloshing potatoes. I caught Ellyn’s shoulder and tucked her behind the corner, out of sight. “Nothing insidious. You know me, this is all a misunderstanding. I just want to speak with him, alone. We’re practically friends.”
“If you’re friends, just knock on his door.” Her frown cracked the patch of flour on her cheek.
She’d likely heard what I’d been accused of. By now the whole palace probably knew. The longer this went on, the harder it would be to salvage the tattered remains of my reputation. “I need your help,” I whispered, leaning closer. “You know I’d do the same for you.”
“Would you?” Her eyebrows lifted.
Would I? “I’d certainly consider it.” I grinned. She knew Ihaddone the same for her.
She smacked me on the arm. “Why can’t I say no to you?!”
Her frown softened when I tucked a lock of her unruly curly hair behind her ear. “Because you’re a good friend, and I don’t deserve you. And because you owe me?”
She sighed. “That’s true. All right, fine. I’ll delay his aides, but you may not have long.”
“I don’t need long.” I turned, heading back down the corridor.
“Lark,” Ellyn called. “Be careful. It feels different this time.”
“I’m always careful,” I called back, and slipped into the hidden side passage. The smile died on my lips. She was right. I’d been in difficult situations before, most I’d laughed off. Itwasdifferent this time. I rubbed the stump of my missing finger and hurried on, steps silent. Only the spluttering oil lamps betrayed my passing.
* * *
The king’schamber was a vast collection of private rooms, reception areas, and sleeping quarters. The panel I popped open delivered me to the second antechamber where the king stored his books. The opening panel knocked a bookcase, sending its contents tumbling.
I caught the small, dancing girl figurine in my right hand, and the bookcase with my leg. A few books tumbled to the floor with some alarmingthuds. I waited, listening. Nobody came. The king wasn’t here. Neither were his aides. Ellyn had delayed them a while. I reset the bookcase, then dashed through the chambers, toward Albus’s bedroom.
The bed was always made, never disturbed. He rarely slept in it; instead he spent most nights slumped at his desk, lost in pennywort’s embrace.
The main chamber door creaked open.
I spun, caught a glimpse of the king’s fair locks and bulky stance, and flung myself at the daybed, sprawled and posed, as though I’d been waiting hours. He wouldn’t know how my heart raced, or how I measured my breathing, keeping him from seeing how I panted.
Albus froze in the doorway. Quite the opposite of his son, his muscular bulk would have been welcome in War’s courts. He often used that substantial presence to bully others.
“Lark,” he grumbled. “Do I need to call the guards?”
I dipped my chin, bowing my head. “My king, do as you please. I ask only that you hear me out.”
He swept across the chamber toward the dresser and removed a decanter of potent wine, pouring himself a glass and raising it to his lips in a trembling hand. “My wife…”
“I did not kill her.” Best to get the facts of the matter spoken. Now was not the time to dance around the truth.
He paused, cradling the glass in his hands. “I should have been there.”
He’d get no argument from me. He should have been there for the entire four years I’d played their fool, and now he’d realized. When it was too late. He glanced away, towards the far wall, perhaps searching for the wife he’d lost. I was supposed to be the fool, yet I found myself surrounded by them.
“Tell Justice, when they come, I did not do this,” I said.
