Page 32 of The Twisted Throne

“I understand, my lady.” Hazel drew the comb through Ahnna’s loose curls, gently teasing free the knots that had formed. “I am sorry for pressing you on the matter, it is only that I know how the ladies of Harendell are.” She was quiet for a long moment. “They don’t cut with blades but with words, and I think you will never meet women as cruel as those in Verwyrd. They despise anyone who is not like them, and they will not respect your reasons as those of the common classes will.”

“If I am to be their queen, they will learn to respect me as I am.”

“As you say, my lady.” Hazel set aside the comb, then swiftly plaited Ahnna’s hair. “Is there anything else you require before bed?”

“No.”

Hazel stood, waiting with her arms politely crossed. Understanding that she wouldn’t leave until she’d tucked Ahnna into bed, Ahnna climbed onto the towering piece of furniture. Then Hazel pulled the blankets up around her chin as though she were a child. It was a struggle not to laugh, especially given the maid was nearly a foot shorter than Ahnna. Yet as the blankets were tucked around her, Ahnna found herself asking, “Has His Highness returned?”

“Not last I heard, my lady.” Hazel patted the blankets. “Business in the city, and he’s known to keep late hours.”

That piqued Ahnna’s attention, because James had struck her as an individual who was always to bed at a reasonable hour, not out and about when illicit behavior was likely to occur. “I see.”

“Good night, my lady.” Hazel snuffed the candles so only the single lamp remained, flame turned low. Drawing the curtains on the bed, she left the room.

Ahnna stared up at the canopy of velvet, considering what Taryn and Bronwyn had told her. Though she was not prone to tears, her eyes stung at the knowledge that so many souls resented her people just for trying to survive. That they believed Ithicanians lived in the lap of luxury when every single Ithicanian toiled daily against adversity to provide for their family. To care for their friends and village. A struggle made so much more difficult with all that had been lost and with no means to rebuild other than toil.

It felt as though each step Ahnna took deeper into Harendell revealed another obstacle, and breathless panic began its slow rise in her chest, her head throbbing and her hands like ice as a future where she could do nothing to help Ithicana played out before her. The lace of her nightgown made her neck and wrists itch, her ribs ached, and something in her snapped.

Flinging herself out of bed, Ahnna tore off the nightgown and left it in a heap, pacing naked back and forth across the floor. The oppressive sense of being caged only grew.

Going to the wardrobe, she pulled on clothes and boots, fastening a knife to her belt. Opening the heavy drapes, Ahnna unlatched the window and looked out. The peculiar maze of hedges was illuminated, and lamps burned all around the property, rendering it nearly as bright as day. She could make out the figures of soldiers patrolling, but they had the look of men who were only going through the motions.

Testing the strength of the trellis, Ahnna found it secure, and she climbed down until the ground was near enough for her to jump. Her boots hit the soft turf and she rolled, coming to her feet and swiftly darting to the shadow of a statue. Then to the next.

And then she was in the maze.

It was darker inside, the leafy greenery rising higher than her head, but the skies were clear enough for her to keep her sense ofdirection as she unpuzzled it, the focus it required easing the panic in her heart. Solving the maze had been all she’d originally intended to do, but then she found herself on the far side of it, the wall at the rear of the property only a short distance away.

Didn’t it occur to you to get the lay of the land by visiting before you arrived to marry the crown prince?Bronwyn’s voice filled her head, and Ahnna grimaced, more than understanding what a mistake that had been.

Crouching at the exit of the maze, Ahnna considered how that mistake was best rectified. In all her brother’s adventures on both continents, she knew Aren had pretended to be a commoner, and those were the people he fraternized with under his many aliases. “I know everything there is to know about the nobility and the wealthy merchants,” he always said. “That’s who we spy on. I want to know about everything else. Everyoneelse.”

And given that her own knowledge was driven by spy reports, it meant what she knew about Harendell was equally biased toward those who ruled. Yet those who ruled served the people, so it was important that she understood them just as well.

Watching a soldier pass on patrol, Ahnna waited for him to be out of earshot, and then she broke into a run. Her long strides ate up the ground, and with a soft grunt of effort, she jumped, catching hold of the edge of the wall. She hooked her ankle over the edge, then swiftly rolled over the top, landing in a crouch on the cobbles on the far side.

To find herself face-to-face with a young boy, his cheeks streaked with dirt. “You robbing them?” he asked.

Ahnna considered her answer. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Good. The bastards deserve it.” Then he scampered into an alley.

Rising from her crouch, Ahnna walked down the lane, headingin the direction of the wharf, where there were certain to be sailors and merchants drinking and gossiping. The cobbled streets were worn smooth by the passage of countless feet and carriage wheels, the gutters piled high with a shocking amount of horse shit. Lamps flickered at each intersection, illuminating the faces of people trudging home after a day’s toil, none of them paying her any attention.

This area seemed to be mostly homes, long buildings with doors at equal intervals, shapes visible through curtains on every level, which suggested to her that a different family lived on each floor. Over the smell of manure, she picked out the scents of woodsmoke and cooking food and human urine, the stench so oppressive Ahnna fought the urge to cover her mouth and nose.

She was used to the smell of the sea. The scent of a storm. The wildness of the jungle. The press of humanity felt like being buried alive, and for a few moments, Ahnna debated fleeing back to the relative peace of Fernleigh House. Only to see a familiar tall figure cross in front of her and head down a side street.

James.

She hadn’t come into the city to spy on hisbusiness,yet Ahnna found herself breaking away from her trajectory to follow him. She stayed well back and kept her head down. There was still enough traffic of people and horses that he took no notice of her footfalls.

James walked with purpose, those he passed giving way, though she noticed how he nodded at the women, ever courteous. That he did so even outside the view of peers who might judge him made her smile, because she’d never met anyone whose politeness seemed so ingrained in his soul.

James paused beneath a streetlamp to consult a piece of paper,then headed up to the door of one of the buildings, knocking sharply.

Ahnna headed into the shadows of the neighboring staircase, watching as a woman holding a baby opened the door. The moment she saw him, the woman’s face crumpled, and a wail tore from her throat. Ahnna instantly knew what James was doing, because she’d had to do it many times herself.

---