AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Gripping the breakfast plate I’ve picked up from one of the room’s many counters, I scan the tables. The first familiar face I spot is Anya’s.
My former nemesis has her blond hair piled on top of her head in her preferred style and a sharp smile curving her lips. I disarmed her by pretending to beherfriend shortly before my confrontation with Wendos in the All-Giver’s tower, but I have no desire to cozy up to the bully beyond that. I’m just glad my gambit worked well enough that she hasn’t resumed her harassment.
A few tables over, there’s Romild, who probably thinks even less of me now than she did when she insinuated that I’d fucked my way into the assistant position. It’s become clear that Wendos used her as a diversion to lead my investigations astray and that she isn’t actually involved in any illicit sorcery, but it’s been equally clear that she’d sooner spit in my face than have a genial conversation with me.
My gaze snags for a moment on a tawny head I’ve come to know well. Casimir is seated with his back mostly to me, but there are only a few other students sitting at his table.
It wouldn’t lookthatodd for me to grab a chair at the other end, would it? I don’t even have to talk to him—simply being in his presence would make me feel less alone.
But just as I start to take a step toward him, a noblewoman with ebony ringlets sashays to his side and rests her hand on his shoulder as she leans in to speak. It’s the woman I saw him dancing with at the ball.
He told me he uses the balls to let possible patrons “sample” his skills as a courtesan. Is she looking to hire him now?
My stomach twists, and I yank my gaze away.
It’s his job. I’ve got no right to feel queasy over him embracing his calling.
I don’t really want to witness a transaction in progress, though. It’s safer for him if I keep my distance anyway.
Really, it was selfish of me to consider going over there when I could be putting him in danger.
That thought helps me focus on my larger mission. Are there any bug club members around I could contrive to sit near?
I don’t want to be blatant about seeking them out, but even being able to listen in while they talk with other students might reveal something useful.
I meander between the tables, casting my gaze about as if I’m looking for an ideal seat.
While I can fake the airs of a noblewoman reasonably well, I’ve always stuck out a little among this upper crust crowd. No one meets my eyes other than once, briefly, followed by a disdainful curl of a lip.
I’ve only made it past a few tables when a clear, even voice speaks up from behind me. “Ivy, isn’t it? You could join me over here.”
I swivel to find distantly-royal Petra aiming a subdued smile at me. She motions to a few empty chairs at a nearby table.
My legs lock, just for a second. I don’t have any reason to believe that the queen’s niece-twice-removed—or whatever exactly she is—would see me as an ideal dining companion.
What’s she really up to?
Will it be more of a mistake to accept her invitation or to refuse her?
Go on,Julita murmurs.Let’s find out what she wants. It’s not as if you couldn’t take her in a fight.
I restrain a snort at that sentiment and make myself return Petra’s smile. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”
As we walk to the chairs and take our places, I surreptitiously study the other woman.
Julita is probably right in her assessment of our fighting capabilities. Petra has a few inches on my short frame, but her arms look soft in contrast with my wiry muscle. Her figure is more curvy than combat-hardened.
I have to assume she drops in on Stavros’s classes to try to develop skills she’s lacking rather than to hone an established talent. I definitely haven’t seen any impressive moves from her during sparring sessions.
She is a little hard to pin down, though. Her dress is fine, with delicate embroidery across the bodice and down the skirt—eye-catching but not entirely fitting the typical styles around the college. She must have enough interest in fashion to appreciate impressive work without caring whether anyone else is impressed by the same.
Like the other times I’ve seen her, she’s let her black hair spill loose over her shoulders, only a small portion braided back from her tan brow. I’ve looped my own hair into an updo so I can fit in with most of my schoolmates, but apparently Petra doesn’t care about that either.
I guess when you’re related to the royal family, even if only by marriage, you’re a little above those concerns. She does always seem to keep a subtle distance from the other students.
But not with me, not right now.
I glance around to confirm no one I’m keeping an eye on from the bug club is nearby. The kinds of things I’d want them to overhear and the kinds of things I’d be comfortable saying directly to Petra have very little overlap.
