Page 15 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 15

ALORA

T he ocean stretches out before me, merging into the dark horizon where the cloudless sky and moonlit water blur together. The soft sound of waves lapping against the docks of the nearby marina fills the quiet air, rhythmic and constant, as if its depths are breathing beneath the night sky. Anchored fishing skiffs and impressive ships with women’s names sway slightly in their berths, their hulls creaking with the movement of the tide. A faint salty breeze brushes against my skin, cool but gentle, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of seaweed and brine.

There’s peace in the ocean’s presence, but also a quiet awe, like standing on the edge of something far greater than myself. I wish Eleni was here to see it with me.

When I finally turn away from that unknowable expanse, I’m faced with another imposing sight. Set inside the city walls, a towering edifice of white stone stands proud above us. The Veridian palace.

The prince scans the entrances to the many aqueducts that empty into the ocean, his nostrils flaring. His shoulders dip with relief as he scents what he’s looking for.

“This one,” he says, pointing to the middle pipe. It’s easily big enough for us both to walk through .

“How many tunnels are there?” I whisper in the darkness. The sight of the ocean still lingers, pressing on my thoughts.

“A few. But they’re all guarded at this time of night, so I needed to choose the right path.”

“What does that mean?”

His silver eyes catch the moonlight, glowing like an animal’s. “The one guarded by Apex most likely to let us through and keep it to themselves.”

My brow furrows. “Why aren’t there any guards at the aqueduct entrances?”

One side of the prince’s mouth pulls up into a half-smile. “No sense guarding a hidden entrance from the outside, is there?”

We slosh through the sodden pipe until Taran stops in his tracks. After a quick surreptitious glance in my direction, he brings his pointer finger up to his mouth. When he pulls it away, there’s a drop of crimson glistening on the tip. He swipes it on the section of pipe, and a door shimmers into existence.

Blood magic. This is the work of the Veridian Guild. The key master’s title takes on new meaning. Is he an Apex? How would he have escaped serving the Elite?

“Let me do the talking,” Taran murmurs, then pushes through the mysterious door without waiting for my assent.

Two uniformed Apex leaning against a torch-lit tunnel jolt to attention as we step through. Taran quickly removes his hood, and their jaws simultaneously unhinge. He nods at them both. “Leylah. Ethan.”

Leylah is an athletically built female with umber skin and blunt black hair. Her partner, Ethan, looks young to be in the guard, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with moonlight pale skin and copper hair that badly needs a cut.

“Your Highness!” Ethan drops to one knee, his light green eyes shining up at Taran in clear idolatry. Leylah looks to the heavens as if for guidance.

Taran grasps the young male’s arm, pulling him up to standing. “No need for formalities, Ethan. I’m just passing through. ”

Ethan nods so forcefully that a copper wave covers his eyes. He blows it away with an audible puff. He looks like nothing more than a young puppy, over-eager to please.

I shrink further into my hood as Leylah’s sharp gaze flicks towards me. Taran also notices where her attention has gone. The breath whooshes out of me as a large hand brackets my waist, tugging me up against the hard planes of his body. “Can I ask you both to keep this to yourselves?” His suggestive smile spreads slowly. “I’m trying to sneak in one last bit of fun before Samhain.”

So that’s how he wants to play it. Fine. Improvisation is my specialty. I rest my hand against the prince’s broad shoulder and rise up on tiptoes to whisper loudly in his ear, “You promised me more than a little bit of fun, Your Highness.” His grip on my waist tightens.

Ethan’s pale face flushes tomato red, and he stammers out an affirmative. With a snort, Leylah gestures for us to continue down the passageway. Before we leave, the female Apex does something to the tunnel wall I can’t see, and the door to the aqueduct closes behind us. I pause, marveling. The door is just as invisible on this side of the wall as it was on the outside.

“Lady Lynx,” Taran murmurs, his hot breath tickling my ear as he tugs me along, “admire the palace engineering another time.”

As soon as we’re out of sight of the Apex guards, Taran drops his hold on my body and pulls the hood back up, shadowing his face. “Just in case,” he tells me. “We shouldn’t come across anyone else this time of night.”

I take quick steps to keep up with his longer strides as we ascend the dimly lit tunnel. “Who built these?”

“They’ve been in place long before my father’s rule. But he added the key signatures a little more than ten years ago.”

I sneak a sideways glance at the prince. “Key signatures? Is that what you call the blood magic?”

I can’t see his expression beneath the hood. “Yes. The tunnel doors are keyed to the royal family.”

We climb a narrow, winding staircase before proceeding down another stone passageway. “Where are you taking me? ”

“To your suite. It’s right beside Maeve’s.” He turns his head and glances at me, but I stare straight ahead, ensuring all he sees is the side of my hood. “The Apex the guild sends tomorrow will have to sleep in your chambers. There’s a smaller bedroom in the suite meant for your guardian.”

I roll my shoulders. “Fine. Hopefully they send a female.”

The prince stops dead in his tracks. “You didn’t tell them to send you a female?”

“We told them what the Apex was for.” I shrug. “I’m pretty sure they got the picture.”

“If a male shows up tomorrow, you’ll send him away,” Taran growls.

I narrow my eyes at the face hidden within his hood. “No. It’s not inconceivable that I would have a male guardian.”

“It’s highly unusual and would arouse suspicion,” he shoots back.

“Can we cross that bridge if and when we get to it? Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but you mentioned a bedroom? It’s getting late, and I have a heist to plan tomorrow.”

He stands there for a beat, as if wrestling with himself. Then, without another word, he turns and continues up the tunnel. With a muffled curse, I hurry after him.

At another uninterrupted spot of stone wall, he stops again, removing his hood and bringing his hand back up to his mouth. In the close quarters of the narrow tunnel, the copper tang of blood reaches my nose. I shiver, realizing his canines are sharp enough to pierce his skin.

A quick swipe at the wall—I truly cannot see he does anything beyond that—and another door magically opens. Taran’s arm shoots out and holds me back while he enters first. I cross my arms with a huff and wait for him to poke his head in, scenting the room and presumably making sure it’s clear.

Finally, he heads inside, and I follow.

The sitting area is massive, larger than our biggest room at The Spinning Top. Brocade curtains in shades of blue and ivory frame expansive picture windows that look out onto a darkened garden. Two indigo armchairs flank a low table positioned before the view .

I pull back my hood and peek into the main bedroom while Taran walks through the suite, lighting the candelabras. An ornate fireplace carved with waves and sea creatures sits across from a grand canopy bed, its gilded frame draped in layers of sheer, embroidered fabrics that cascade down like a waterfall.

I let out a low whistle. “This is the guest suite?”

Taran chuckles. “It’s part of Maeve’s wing.” As if that explains everything.

Three more doors line the suite. One leads to a dressing room, its empty wardrobe crafted from polished dark wood. A pretty vanity table sits nearby, piled with crystal bottles and silver-topped jars. Another door leads to a sumptuous bathing chamber. I will be availing myself of this just as soon as the prince leaves. The final door is to the Apex guardian’s chamber.

It’s tiny—smaller than either the dressing room or the bathing room—and spartan. A simple cot with basic linens and a wooden stool beside it to serve as a bedside table. Set against the opulence of the suite, it’s jarring, a reminder of Valenrae’s forced hierarchy.

Taran comes to stand at my shoulder, a deep frown on his face. I wonder if he’s imagining how this would have been his life if he’d been anyone else’s son on the day he emerged. But all he says is, “I don’t feel comfortable with a stranger sleeping in your suite.”

“We won’t be able to meet in front of them, that’s for sure,” I agree. “They’ll absolutely be spying for the guild. No doubt that’s why they agreed to it.”

His silver eyes catch mine. “That’s not what I meant.”

A wave of exhaustion rolls through me. “I know we have a lot to talk about and plan, but can we save it for tomorrow? It’s been a long couple of days.” More like a long month at this point.

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.” Taran strides back towards the sitting room wall. I trail him towards the tunnel entrance, but just as he’s about to go through it, he hesitates, turning back around to face me.

“Do you mind?” I complain. “I’m fairly desperate to wash the smell of strider ass off my body. ”

The prince releases a surprised laugh. “You don’t smell like strider ass.”

I suppose he would know. “What do I smell like then? Wait! Let me guess, sewer water.”

That ensorcelling smile creeps over his rough-hewn face, brighter than the candlelight. “I have something for you.”

My brow puckers. “For the heist?”

“Sort of.” His hand slips into his pocket, pulling out a velvet drawstring bag. “It’s a longer chain for your lynx charm. My father is extremely observant. You’ll need to keep it hidden, and I didn’t think you’d be willing to part with it.”

I’m struck dumb at his thoughtfulness. “You’re right. It’s…important to me.”

His mouth curves higher. “I got that impression when you wouldn’t stop fiddling with it. Try not to touch it in front of my father, alright?”

“Alright.” I draw out the word, holding out my palm to accept the tiny bag. He gives me a small nod, then exits through the wall-door, closing it behind him.

I stare for a moment at the uninterrupted stone. Then at the velvet bag in my hand. With trembling fingers, I open the drawstring and shake the contents into my palm.

A delicate gold chain, long enough to tuck under my clothes and fine enough to be almost undetectable against my skin, spills into my waiting hand. My eyes widen at the small charm attached to it. Tiny encrusted diamonds wink at me from a beautifully wrought Shanterran lily. It feels like a fragment of home, here in this foreign palace. The constant ache in my chest lessens—just a bit.

It appears the Veridian king is not the only one who’s observant.