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I catch one raised eyebrow aimed my way from a nobleman I don’t recognize, too far away for him to have realized what I was doing. I aim a prim smile at him and stride off toward the Domi as if I have nothing to feel awkward about.
Everyone already thought I was a little strange anyway.
My hand remains clamped around the top of the bundle of silk, keeping a firm grip on my captive. I need to summon the men as quickly as possible in case this creature vanishes into dust or a poof of smoke if it’s restrained for too long.
Who knows how the scourge sorcerers worked their illicit magic on the thing?
I can’t go straight to our new meeting room, because Stavros in his infinite wisdom is still holding my enchanted cord hostage. Gods forbid I have free access to an entirely locked and secure room we can’t even tell is within the palace.
But we still have our original meeting spot, even if the archive room seems dreary and cramped by comparison.
I march through the Domi’s main entrance and head past the library doors. It’s just a short distance to the hall of tapestries—
“Ivy! Where are you off to in such a hurry this morning?”
Petra’s clear, melodic voice rings out from the library doorway. I jar to a stop with a silent curse.
Her question was casual enough, but it’ll look awfully suspicious if I charge on by without acknowledging her. And the lesser royal has already shown more interest in me than I’d like.
I tuck my strange parcel close to my gown as I turn to face her. Since it’s the same fabric the skirt is made of, it should blend in.
I don’t trust my knots quite enough to risk stuffing the snake in my pocket.
Petra steps out of the library. Her smile is friendly enough, but her dark eyes look pensive.
“Oh, I’m simply on an errand for Ster. Stavros,” I say with a light laugh. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting, you know.”
Petra echoes my laugh. “I suppose in his past line of work, most tasks were much more urgent. I hope he isn’t putting you under too much stress.”
“No, not at all. But I’d better get on with it.”
I dip my head to her, praying that she doesn’t try to stall me any further. Her voice doesn’t follow me down the hall, but my old scars itch with the sense of her studying my retreating back.
Why issheso interested in you all of a sudden?Julita murmurs.
I wait until I’ve turned the corner into the hall of tapestries and confirmed that no one else is around before replying. “Do you think King Konram might have asked her to keep an eye on me—back when he first heard from Stavros that I was helping the investigation? I’m new to the school, after all.”
It’d make sense for the king to be concerned that I’m so involved in delving into a conspiracy that could have dire consequences for his family.
Julita lets out an uncertain hum.I’d have thought he’d trust Stavros’s judgment more than that. And he didn’t even want to inform his closest staff—I can’t see him revealing all this trouble to a girl who’s only distantly related to his wife. The success of our mission depends on its secrecy.
Maybe the king picked up on Stavros’s recent apprehensions about me. It’s not as if the former general has been all that great at hiding them.
On the other hand, after what happened with Esmae, I’m hesitant to assume anyone who strikes a sudden interest in me has good intentions. Better to treat Petra as a hazard until I have irrefutable evidence that she’s not one.
While I tweak the sconce with my free hand, I spare a glance at the tapestry of Signy. At the three men gathered around her on the hill.
Did she find herself totally bewildered when she realized more than one of them returned her feelings—and was willing to stand with the others at her side?
The stories never give much detail about their romance, making it sound as if her magnificence made it inevitable that she’d win their hearts. I’d like to think someone selfless enough to take on an entire empire to free her country would have a little more humility than to take anyone’s affections for granted, but who really knows?
The much-celebrated hero of Velduny died before I was even born.
The moment I’ve descended the conjured shadowy staircase into the small archive room, I grope for my locket, flick it open single-handed, and press my thumb to the inside. The signal will tell the men where to find me.
I peer around the room with an odd waft of nostalgia, though it’s only been a couple of weeks since I last came down here. As if sensing my momentary distraction, the snake makes another attempt at thrashing its way free from the bundle of silk. I clench my fingers around the gathered edges of the fabric.
If the creature is acting as some kind of spy, we shouldn’t have an unguarded conversation about it. What might the men give away when they rush in to answer my call?
