Page 25 of A Court of Masks and Roses
Ignoring Sonia’s farewells and praises, I shove a path toward the door and sprint outside without pausing to retrieve my weapon from the doorman. My mind roars, my eyes roving the dim streets for any sign of the prince. Even here in the city, many of the shops stand abandoned, like monuments to a dying people. Soldiers defending the border from Everett, women in childbed, babies who never drew breath. Firehorn is right, we need peace with Everett, peace and so much more. A trio of shadowy figures disappears around a corner two blocks up. I sprint after them, only to run into three men who are none too pleased at my intrusion.
I stomp away, catching my jagged breath. If the prince gets hurt tonight, Leaf is dead. I’m sure of it.
The back of my neck tightens in warning a moment before a rock-hard hand clamps on to my shoulder. I duck away and spin, my knives out and ready.
The man spins with me, as if he knew exactly what I’d do. His hands capture my wrists like shackles as he spins me toward him. “Kal, it’s me.” Trace’s dark eyes grip mine, calm and steady. “What’s wrong?”
I struggle against his hold. There is no time. Wil couldn’t have gotten far yet, but “not far” is a quickly moving target and, unlike a forest, the cobblestone streets leave few signs to track by.
“Kal.” Trace shakes me, though his voice remains even. “What’s happened?”
My blood sprints in my veins, my words coming in a sputter. “I believe Viva Sylthia kidnapped the prince.”
“Take a breath.” An order. When my body obeys, Trace nods in approval. “Now, report what we have.”
Trace is so certain of himself that I open my mouth to respond before my mind finally catches up. Whatwehave?There is nowe.Like Lady Lianna’s family dinner parties, Kal’s presence in the Royal Guard is just a cover. Trace, Luca, the other guards, they are but chess pieces on my scouting board. They aren’t allies; scouts have no allies. I’m on assignment from Lord Gapral and the king, and I work alone.
I’m also neck-deep in trouble and sinking fast.
“I won’t punish you for telling me the truth,” Trace says quietly.
I stare at him incredulously. “The prince’s bloody life is in danger and you seriously think I’m worried about you punishing me?” The words are out before I can catch them.
Trace’s brow cocks in surprise, but then he offers a small, apologetic bow. “Point well taken.” He sighs. “I know themeasure of the man you are, Kal. Tell me what you have before you and we will work through it.”
Mostly what I have is a lack of options. I’ve lost the crown prince, and every moment I waste trying to discover what Trace already knows about this city is a moment Wil could be dying. As I meet Trace’s gaze to explain, I feel as though I’m stepping into a carnival looking glass, a reality that grinds against every fiber of my being and my training.
“The young man I brought to the Wandering Dog was Wil,” I say quickly, before I can change my mind. “He was at a table when I stepped outside with Sonia and he was gone when I returned. Samuels—that’s the mustached dagger-game rules master—disappeared at the same time. I know Samuels to be a Viva Sylthia terror monger, and I suspect the two disappearances are connected.”
Trace tilts his head to the side, studying me carefully. “Sergeant Samuels, your mustached holy guardsman, left with the other roses at the top of the hour. They had a shift change, like every other evening. As for the rest, come with me.”
I follow Trace in a daze, back down the street, back to the Wandering Dog. Luca meets us by the door and Trace shoots me astay putglance before outlining the problem to him. “We need to find the wee idiot before Kal tears his own heart out,” Trace finishes, strapping on the weapons Luca retrieved from the doorman while I was sprinting through the streets.
“The hooded boy sitting with Kal left with a girl on each arm,” says Luca. “And more than willingly. I’ll check in with the mistress out back to see if they perchance paid for a room.”
“Don’t get lost in a room yourself,” Trace calls to Luca’s retreating back. He turns to me. “Kal, you and I take the streets.”
Nodding, I step up beside Trace in tense silence, hispresence oddly reassuring. But reassurance isn’t the same as a living prince. Within three blocks, sweat soaks my tunic and the pommel of my sword cuts into my palm, where I’m gripping it like a lifeline. Each skip of broken cobblestone jerks me about, the strange linear shadows of rooftops unfamiliar after years of studying the forest. Smells change with every passing door, from the stench of vomit in an abandoned alcove to a cheap brothel’s reek of perfume.
“Get used to it, Kal,” Trace says, peering into the door of another pub to exchange a few words with a guard, who shakes his head. “The royal disappearing trick is not a one-act kind of show.” If Wil lives that long. My heart threatens to crack my ribs. I force my breath to slow before Trace sees just how close to shaking I am.
But it’s too late.
Trace steps in front of me, and with deliberate slowness, as if careful not to startle a deer, he lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. My muscles coil, but his arm stays steady. “Young William is more likely in a bed than a dungeon. But yes, I know the danger is there. And real.” Trace holds my eyes. My body feels torn between wanting to jerk free of Trace’s grip and savoring the oddly curious sensation of his body heat caressing my neck. Trace’s jaw tightens. “But whipping yourself over that spoiled little whelp’s stupidity will change neither the facts nor him. Just as my whipping you for it did not.”
An apology. I shake my head, finally jerking free. “Like I said, I little care about that.”
Trace’s hand lowers, his fingers gripping the pommel of his sword. “I know,” he says quietly. “And I hope one day you will shred to bits whoever made it so.”
Lord Gapral? I snort despite myself and start us back into a walk. Yes, us. Despite my best efforts, Kal seems to havefound himself a partner. “What do you know about Samuels?”
“Only his name and reputation for keeping the games civilized. Appears decent enough for a rose.” Trace turns to square the block, his voice back to its usual stoicism. “An unlikely candidate for a terror-monger group.”
“I didn’t say it was likely, I said it was true,” I mutter, but decide against pressing the issue. There is no reason for Trace to take Kal’s word and no reason why Trace’s trust should matter to me. Samuels is my first solid lead into what may be happening in Delta, and the fewer people who get underfoot while I track it down, the better.
“Trace!” Luca calls, strolling toward us from the other end of the street.
I sprint forward to meet him, slowing at the sight of Luca’s self-satisfied smirk. “You found him?” I ask.
