Page 59 of A Court of Masks and Roses
“You are not the scout who’s spent days sitting here.” Finding a wide-branched tree—one of Kal’s favorites from hisdays of watching the palace traffic—I swing myself up to survey the palace grounds. The now-familiar sights splay out before me, from the royal stables on the castle’s eastern side to the keep on its southwestern side. The rich colors, the flowers that house those bloody wasps, the scurrying servants, strolling courtiers, patrolling guards—all is as it was. But there is something else too.
“There are too many roses around,” I tell Trace as I scurry back down to the ground, my forehead tight. “They are everywhere—an extra two hundred men, at least. Like there were after the Viva Sylthia attack.”
Trace’s brows pull together. “Another attack while we were gone?”
I shake my head. “The Royal Guard’s numbers are standard for this time of day. Just more roses. A lot more.”
Trace raps his knuckles against the tree trunk. “All right, then we adjust. You stay here, I go fetch Lady Lianna’s clothes, and then you enter in her persona. There is no reason to risk the roses catching sight of Kal just to get you into your rooms.”
“Nooo,” I drawl, a small smile touching my lips and growing as Trace rolls his eyes to the stars. “On the contrary. Let the bastards catch a glimpse of risen-from-the-dead Kal in the keep. It will send the lot into a tailspin that may tell us something. Kick up dust.”
Trace curses.
My grin widens. “Chin up, Prince. They can’t kill Kal right then and there in the middle of the keep, and we won’t linger long.” Adjusting my clothes, I widen my stance to fall into Kal’s male stride, claiming more space. “I wasn’t making a suggestion,” I tell Trace over my shoulder as I start toward the keep.
Despite my swiveling neck and rising pulse, the roses we passon our way to the barracks are preoccupied and apparently unaware of Kal’s recently attempted murder. We are ten paces from my door—with me contemplating walking up to a random holy guardsman and starting a conversation, just to stir up some action—when someone finally approaches.
“Where in stars’ name did you two disappear to?” Luca demands of Trace and me, a mix of fatigue and frustration weighing down his words.
“Kal had family matters,” Trace says dismissively. “I ran into him—”
“Tell me later.” Grabbing Trace, Luca manhandles him into the closest of our rooms, which happens to be mine. Ignoring my torn, bloodstained clothes, Luca wheels on Trace. “The Holy Guard has been searching the whole bloody palace for you since yesterday. They are trying to arrest you.”
“Arrest him for what?” I ask.
“Last night, two young girls—both runaway whisperers—killed a rose,” says Luca. “When caught, they claimed to be working with Trace.”
32
KALI
Days ago, I would have thought the accusation absurd. Now I can only curse the damn timing. Not that there is ever a convenient time to be exposed.
“Am I on the Royal Guard arrest list as well?” Trace asks after a pause, his voice as even as if discussing new mess-hall bannocks. “Or only the roses’?”
Luca groans. “I was really hoping to hear you curse and proclaim your innocence just now.”
“Anyone who believes I ordered those girls to commit murder would unlikely be swayed by my insistence to the contrary,” says Trace. “Are you supposed to be arresting me?”
“Stars, but you are a pain.” Luca sighs with resignation. “No, Wil is holding up the roses’ request for a reciprocal warrant. He wants to talk to you first.”
I clear my throat. “Is this why the palace grounds are bleeding holy guardsmen?” I ask. “Two hundred of them are all looking for Trace? They are not doing a very good job of it, considering none challenged us on the way here.”
“Let us not stop to offer critique,” Luca tells me, his face tight. “And yes, that is why they are here. The numbers are all about politics—a demonstration of Bahir’s outrage and all that.”
“Or they are not truly looking for Trace,” I say, though neither man pays me much mind.
“You said Wil needs to see me,” Trace tells Luca, his shoulders tense despite an even voice. “Then take me to him.”
“Us,” I say, my glare daring him to object. After years of ignorance about Bahir’s allegiance, Firehorn can wait another hour while I see what other trouble is brewing.
Trace’s jaw tightens. “Us,” he finally agrees but waves a hand over my tattered clothing. “Though the shorter part ofusmight wish to change and arm himself as befitting a guardsman before attending the crown prince.”
“Trace,” Luca studies the floor, his voice quiet, “the prince waits with Questioner Calvin in the dungeon hold.” He focuses on straightening his own clothes as the words and their meaning percolate. After a moment, Luca turns on his heels, nodding to no one in particular. “I’ve something to attend to before meeting you there.”
The words Luca didn’t say aloud squeeze the air from my lungs.If you need to disappear, this is your chance. Never mind that Luca would be flogged within an inch of his life for it.
Lord Gapral warned me about the dangers of friendship.
