Page 19 of A Court of Masks and Roses
We walk in silence. Trace’s familiar presence beside me is steadying, even if I’m the only one aware of the familiarity. In my memory, Bahir’s mirroring shock plays itself over and over. I swallow.
“What happened, my lady?” Trace asks quietly.
I rub the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know. The bishop’s ring brushed my skin and...” I make a vague motion with my hand. “I felt a jolt that seared through my whole body.”
Trace’s gaze shifts, his dark eyes weighing me. “Have you experienced such a jolt before?”
“Never.” I shake the hand that touched Bahir’s skin. Thepain is gone but the flesh still tingles as if asleep. “Do you know what it might be?”
A muscle twitches on the side of Trace’s jaw, his fingers brushing the pommel of his sword. “No.”
He’s lying. I stop, forcing the guardsman to stop with me. My hand clamps on to his forearm. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Trace looks down at my hold, which is too strong for a lady’s touch.
I yank my hand back. His eyes narrow. Slowly, as if touching an injured animal, he takes the hand I just pulled away and brushes his finger over my exposed wrist.
“What—” I cut off my question, seeing the shadow of a bruise that has crept out from beneath my cuff. Bloody stars, I should have taken better care. An unforgivable slip, no matter how occupied my mind. There seem to be a lot of unforgivable slips when Trace is around.
“Who did that to you?” Trace’s voice is dangerously low.
You, yesterday. Or was it Luca this morning? I’m not keeping track.“I tripped over my embroidery.” I pull away, hugging my arms across my chest. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you know what happened in there?”
Trace straightens, his face a mask. “Most likely a coincidence, my lady. Your headache struck while you spoke with His Grace, but the two are unrelated. I recommend you get some rest.” He pauses, his voice dropping. “And if that embroidery trips you again, come tell me.”
What happened at dinner? – FH
The touch of Bahir’s ring sent a jolt of pain through me. Has it happened to anyone else? – K
Don’t be ridiculous. Next dinner in seven days. Be useful. – FH
“Kal! There you are.”Wil’s head, followed by the rest of his body, rises from the top of the royal stables’ hayloft ladder. He sneezes, grins, and looks around. Dust peppers the beam of early evening sunlight coming from the little window, illuminating similar flecks on the prince’s shoes. “Though I’m not quite sure why you are here.”
Because I needed an hour’s refuge from the keep’s crowd, an hour that Wil is now expertly spoiling. I was up late last night writing my report on the events of dinner, and my eyes feel like they’re filled with sand. Stifling a groan, I wrap up the remnants of the bread and cheese I took from the mess hall and rise from the bale of hay that served as my chair and dinner table a few moments ago.
“It’s quiet and I like the company,” I say. In the main barn below us, horses whicker and knock their feed buckets against wooden stalls. The occasional hostler—one of whom is no doubt responsible for directing the prince to my whereabouts—shuffles tack that forever needs mending. I tilt my head, the energy coming from the boy setting my caution on edge. “What can I do for you, Highness?”
“It’s just Wil.” He cracks his knuckles. “Wanted to see how you were. And how you are liking your new assignment.”
I cross my arms. “I’ve yet to fulfill it, but I imagine I’m more pleased with the idea than Trace is.”
“Thatpart wasn’t my idea. Plus, have you ever seen Trace pleased with anything?” Wil knocks the toe of his boot against the floor and grins like a cat with cream. “Anyway, he’s off duty for the evening, and you and I have plans.”
I tense. “We do?”
Wil jerks his head and starts back down the ladder. “Come along or not, guardsman,” he calls back up to me. “Entirely your choice.”
I curse and scramble after my prince.
“What are we doing here, Wil?”I turn about the alley, wrinkling my nose at the stench of piss and rotting garbage. There is little here. A few back doors, trash, mud-splattered walls. My eyes flash between shadows, my fingers aching to stroke the hilt of my sword. There is no way in the realm of light or darkness that Firehorn would approve of this outing, but I’m certain Wil would have come here whether I was along or not. In fact, I’m certain he’s been here before.
Wil pulls the hood of his cloak to further cover his face. “I’m seeing what someone might possibly want here. It’s where the City Guard found Novan’s body.”
“Novan?” I tense, recalling my conversation with Firehorn. “The guardsman trainee who was mugged?”
“Murdered. Not mugged.” Wil runs a gloved hand over a brick wall. “He was my friend.”
I grab the prince’s wrist. “Let me get this straight, you just brought the two of us to a murder scene? Are you out of your bloody mind?”
