Page 4

“I’ve got nothing to admit.”

“What a relief. The problem is, I have standards—”

“I’ll do it.”

That was more like it. Initiations took planning and scheming. I’d given a basic task, the first in a haystack of requirements before accepting the lad into my circle. If he couldn’t perform this simple one, a beginner’s stint, he wouldn’t get further with me.

A grin of satisfaction. I inclined my head toward the wall, beyond which rose the castle, the apple seed of the Autumn Kingdom. The fortress had dozens of balconies and flat-topped towers, vantage points from which to see and be seen.

The boy got going. I lifted my hand to the side, and one of my minions placed a feather hat onto my palm. Perching the headpiece atop my head, I tilted it at a jaunty angle and murmured to the group, “Wait for me.”

But not for him. He wasn’t coming back.

I stepped forward, my boot heels crushing stray dead leaves. I bypassed him, expecting the lad to follow. We hiked along the moat until we reached a cluster of beech trees.

My finger bounced between each thick trunk. “Eeny, meeny, miny—” I aimed a digit at the left tree “—moe.”

The boy shuffled as I withdrew a stick from my pocket, shaped at warped angles and jagged along one side, the top forked just so. I placed the stick against the trunk, letting it slip into a gap camouflaged within the bark.

Twisting my wrist, the stomach of the beech unlatched, cracking into a door. Log rungs led deep into a tunnel of ancient wood that shone even below ground, making it easy to see. It dug through the soil like a mole burrow, with tree roots dangling from the ceiling.

Plenty of secret passages led into the castle. I’d found out about this one after fondling the locksmith’s apprentice. This particular latch could only be opened by a stick of the correct intricate shape. A replica would have been impossible to craft—if the trespasser weren’t me.

I guided the lad along the passage beneath the moat, then climbed into the daylight through the crusted womb of another tree. I peeked and guided the hopeful out onto a lane, closing the door behind me. Courtyards surrounded the castle, some separated by gated archways. The beech trunk had dropped us just outside the enclosed vendor quad, where nobles and servants milled about, too busy or self-absorbed to notice us.

I could relate. Not much interested me unless I benefited from it.

Without looking back, I crooked my finger for the lad to follow, sashaying toward one of the gates. “Now,” I said, pointing through the latticework toward a cart smelling of charred sweetness. “Hop this gate and fetch me a dozen of those.”

“The m-merchant’s right there,” the boy objected.

“Then distract him. Intimidate him or coquette him into a hard-on. Pinch his ass with one hand and take with the other. If you can’t handle one basic manipulation, what am I going to do with you? I don’t just befriend anybody.”

With so many faces around, it took a few minutes, plus a few lame attempts, for him to make it over the gate. While he dealt with the merchant cart, I sidled in the opposite direction, keeping my head down, not wanting anyone getting too close a look at me. Over the years, the lower town had grown used to seeing my face. They’d grown used to the...uniqueness of it. At least, they had in my quarter.

They’d also been fed a good story for why I looked the way I did, which made any commotion about my appearance simpler to contain, which had prevented rumors from spreading, so that none outside my corner of town had ever heard about me. In short, the residents of the citadel weren’t aware of my existence, even though I’d been here once before.

Yesterday, to be exact. I’d been summoned by the Crown.

Summoned under conditions of secrecy, which meant I couldn’t brag about it.

But, oh well. Being called here had offered me something better.

I stole another glimpse of the towers.

You have something in there that belongs to me.

My gaze flitted over the castle walls. Its corners and nooks. Its windows and columns. Its climbing cranberry vines and window boxes filled with cattails.

Since only select quads were gated, I passed through an open archway, and then another, absorbing the details. I’d already planned how to get inside tonight, but I wasn’t an expert at this. I didn’t bust into fortresses all the time. I kept my eyes peeled, searching for crevices and weak spots, noting extra tidbits for later.

The initiation had given me an excuse to scout the area once more before nightfall. Two birds, one stone.

Nobles strolled in their finery, in swirls of velvet and stitches of leather. I spotted a fenced-in lawn where men and women flung swords at each other. The clang of steel. The push and pull of grunts.

The day before, when I’d first set foot in the citadel, I had ogled this setting from afar. But back then, it had been the Court Jester training on the grass, his bare chest glistening as he snapped into backflips.

The Princess’s lover wasn’t a lad like the ones in my circle. No, the jester was a man, fully grown in his prime. Each morning, Her Highness got to wake up beside that agile body and knock hips. I bet the jester spoiled her rotten with all the positions he must know. Lucky, brilliant chit.