Page 75 of Thorn Season
“Gracious gods!” I clutched my chest, a surge of anger drowning my alarm. “Are you barefoot? I didn’t even hear you approach!”
“I know why you’re here.”
“Yes, I heard the first time.” I grabbed an apple from a fruit basket and waved it around. “A late-night snack. Well done.”
Perla slowly took me in. Then her dark eyes lifted, round and clear. “You want to see if you can catch him. This is all a game to you.”
The apple drooped in my hand.I know why you’re here.Not here in the kitchens. Here at court. Perla thought I’d come to toy with the king—a cat with a full belly, tormenting a mouse for fun.
And when I’d chosen my prey, I’d deprived Perla of a meal.
I lifted my chin, head clearing. Perla’s sister, Petra, had died last year; according to Carmen, she’d beenquite an enchantress. Perla must have felt she was falling short of her sister’s talents, and she needed someone to blame.
It was better to feed her theories than hint at the truth.
So, I would let her think me the cat.
“Everything’s a game here,” I crooned. Then I added, half-serious, “Don’t worry. You can have him back when I’m done.”
Perla’s eyes flickered with irritation. I set down the apple and went to brush past her.
Then she said, “You were with him tonight, weren’t you?”
And I halted, my specter lurching. The city stink clung all over me—sour ale and grill-fire smoke. But beneath the harsher smells lingered the softer notes of soap and linen.
The distinctive scent of Keil.
No. Perla couldn’t have possibly known—
“You think Erik won’t notice?” she asked, eerie with calm.
I held her stare, pulse thrumming wildly. She must’ve been watching me more closely than I’d realized. How much had she seen?
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
“I mean you should leave while you still can.”
My specter reared at the threat. “What is that supposed to—?”
I gasped as she grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh.
“It will be your own fault,” she said, hissing. “You know that, don’t you?”
I wrenched away, heaving backward into the counter. Trays crashed behind me, turning my head.
When I whipped around again, Perla was gone.
My nerves were in shreds as I hurried to my chambers. Even if Perla took her claims to Erik, she possessed no proof of my association with Keil. Yet I feared she wouldn’t need proof. I feared that Erik’s loathing of the Ansorans would be quite enough to kindle his rage.
So I didn’t drink the nightmilk. I stared at the ceiling—heart racing, ready to run at any moment. Because if Erik believed I was sneaking off with the ambassador during our courtship... I knew exactly what he would do to me.
Judging from the artisanal bonbons Erik sent up with my breakfast tray, Perla hadn’t made good on her threat. The miserable girl had probably just intended to unnerve me.
Yet I was still restless as I found a weary-looking Junius playing a solitary card game, his dark bun of braids glistening under a triangle of sunlight. He didn’t look up as I slid opposite him.
“I wouldn’t sit there,” he said flatly. “I’m contagious, apparently.”
Indeed, though Junius occupied the best table—positioned beside the open doors to the courtyard—the chattering nobles had miraculously filled every seat in the Games Hall except these seven empty chairs. Across the room, two noblewomen were bunching their skirts to squeeze onto the same ottoman.
