Page 33 of A Court of Masks and Roses
With the setting sun, I’m finally able to disengage from Kal’s duties long enough for Lady Lianna to answer Firehorn’s summons. Beyond the palace windows, the courtyard is slowly clearing off, the flowers somewhat worse for wear after the herds of guards who came through today.I am striding up the marble staircase that will lead me to the king’s private study when the click of heels reaches me from behind.
“Lady Lianna.” Raza’s trot slows to a dignified pace as she nears me, her dress flowing around her like liquid flowers. The princess’s delicate hand grips the railing, her perfect eyes studying me from their perfect face, and she joins me on my step. “I’ve been looking for you for some time, Lady Lianna. You seem to be quite the accomplished hermit.”
“Do I? How odd,” I say blandly, giving the princess a shallow curtsy. Trace’s lover. This hateful little thorn is Trace’s lover.
Raza grabs my sleeve. “The unfortunate events of last night’s dinner engagement weigh on my mind. With Prince Rune’s tragic experience in Sylthia, you can understand my worry.”
I force what I hope is a sympathetic look onto my face, but if the distressed princess is looking for a shoulder to cry on, she already has one. I, on the other hand, seem to have become a rodent that the man intends to keep clear of. “No doubt the palace security—”
“—would have little to say about why you decided tofollow me,” Raza snaps. “Or why you’ve failed to apologize for the intrusion as of yet.”
I turn to face the girl and blink, trying to clear my shock. “Is this a jest, Your Highness?” I ask carefully, as if speaking to one slow of thought. “I saved your life.”
Raza’s sharp chin darts forward. “My life was never in danger. I had a guardsman with me to see to my safety.”
“Yes, I noticed.” My jaw tenses and I climb the next step. “Excuse me.”
Raza follows, her hand clamping around my elbow and her voice lowering to a hiss. “I hear your uncle wishes to see you. Say anything that would hurt Trace, and I’ll make you wish that arrow had pierced your heart. Understood?”
I shake myself loose from the girl’s grip and stalk away, my skin hot with rage. I’m so very tired of being threatened, of being made to parade before crowds of people, of twisting like a worm on a hook before royalty. I’ll keep Trace’s secret for the same reason he’ll keep mine—mutually assured destruction. Nothing else.
Firehorn motions for me to sit before I even finish curtsying. His face is drawn, with circles under his eyes that speak of deep fatigue.
“Do you think it was a setup?” He asks by way of greeting from behind his desk, his elbows braced on the wood. “The Everett princess creates a ruse, walks into a band of hired attackers, and uses the incident to pressure Dansil into concessions?”
No cutting words for me. No threats to Leaf’s life.
I pull my brows together, choosing my own words with care. “For Princess Raza to orchestrate such a ruse, she would require a means of negotiating with Viva Sylthia. I know nothing to suggest she has any such contacts.”
A corner of the king’s mouth twitches, a flicker ofamusement lighting his tired face. “That was a very diplomatic way of calling me an idiot, Kalianna.”
“I didn’t—”
Firehorn shakes his head. “At ease, girl. I think the time for establishing our relationship is behind us. By now, you either understand my power over you or you do not. Either way, we’ve more pressing matters.” He sighs. “Then perhaps the attackers were not Viva Sylthia after all?”
I frown, tasting his words for a trap. I find none, but my chest still clenches, this new Firehorn making me as nervous as the tyrant one had. Perhaps more. “May I speak freely, sir?”
Firehorn waves me on with his hand.
I draw a breath. “The attackwasfrom Viva. At least one of the men bore the tattoo—I saw it myself. Is the prisoner denying his affiliation?”
“The prisoner is unconscious. My questioner expects it to be a few days before he can begin interrogation.” Firehorn sighs again, leaning back in his chair and drumming a finger on the desk’s edge. “But let us suppose you are right and that Viva Sylthia is behind the attack. Let’s even suppose the absurd notion from your report is correct—that the Holy Guard’s Sergeant Samuels is a Viva terror monger. Isn’t it still possible that Raza hired the ruffians without knowing of their Viva roots?”
“To what end, sir? Why would an Everett princess hire thugs to attack her?”
“To force Dansil into apologies and concessions,” Firehorn says without hesitation. “Why else would she orchestrate the ruse to leave last night’s dinner?”
Stars take me. Our first open, respectful discussion, and I’m about to bloody lie. And not a small lie on a matter of little consequence, but a true misdirection. “I cannot think of a reason, sir. But I will look into it.” Disgust coats my tongue butI swallow the bile and try to steer the discussion back on course. “Might... it be possible that you are going out of your way to convince yourself that Viva Sylthia has not infiltrated your court, my lord? Why do you feel so strongly that Everett, and not anyone else, was behind the ambush?”
Firehorn’s jaw tenses. “Because this morning, Envoy Jajack demanded reparations for the distress and now insists that Dansil is not negotiating in good faith. He threatens to end the ceasefire immediately and resume an active offensive.”
“Ah.” I lean back in my chair and pinch the bridge of my nose. “That... that is a very good reason.”
The palace searchis long done by the following morning, but Trace does not return to training. Luca and I practice alone. As we do the next day. And the day after that. With my needing the evenings to watch Samuels in the wake of the Viva Sylthia attack, there is no occasion for Lady Lianna to see Trace either.
Three days pass until Trace finally walks onto the green grass, his hair pulled back and his face blank of emotion. Trace refuses to meet my eyes when I ask Luca to let me take the first sparring round, and when Luca nods, Trace returns my salute with only a disinterested flick of his sword.
Fine. It’s fine. It’s better than fine. I’m supposed to be working alone.
