Page 16 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 16

ALORA

I awake with a start to rapid knocking on the door to my suite. The heavy drapes have the bedroom dark as a tomb. I don’t even remember letting them down last night, but there’s no way I would have missed hearing a maid enter the room, no matter how bone tired I was.

The bath after Taran left was even better than the one after staking out Count Zhao’s estate. At least the ambiance was an improvement—the bathing room is the biggest I’ve ever seen, with warm water flowing from the pipes like magic instead of me having to haggle over it with Shenmi.

After the stakeout, the pearls heist, then the journey to Ravenscrest, it’s a wonder I managed to make it under the thick, luxurious covers before passing out. I snuggle deeper for a moment, just enjoying the warm, soft bed.

“I know you can hear me, Thief,” Maeve grumbles beyond the heavy oak door.

I sigh and throw the covers off. So much for peace. Time to get to work.

I pause to grab a full-length white robe to cover the nearly see-through silk nightgown I found in the wardrobe last night. On its new longer chain, my lynx charm now rests between my breasts along with its partner, the lily. I finger them both. What did the prince mean by giving me that charm? The chain makes sense. The lily doesn’t .

Maeve resumes her incessant knocking. It’s like she’s deliberately trying to give me a headache. I swing open the door.

“Finally!” Maeve rushes into the room past me in a cloud of lavender, fully dressed as if for an event in a lilac silk gown and a full face of makeup. Her vivid red hair cascades in thick curls down to the small of her back.

She tosses a heap of pale blue silk on the unmade bed, then strides to the drapes, flinging them open. The room floods with blinding light, and I squint. She spins around on her heel and surveys me critically.

“What?” I snap, defensive. She’s just mercilessly woken me from my first good night’s sleep in over a month.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Her voice is low, even with the suite door closed. “Your lady’s maid will be here shortly to get you ready. I’ve brought a day gown in the proper colors; it should fit you.”

My heart squeezes. “The prince told you about Eleni.”

She purses her lips. “He did. What clothing did you bring with you?”

I glance around, spotting my pack in the dressing room, only to discover the one dress I managed to bring is already hanging up in the wardrobe, the wrinkles starting to release. I offer silent praise to last night’s Alora.

“That’s all you brought?” Maeve shoves me aside none too gently and hangs the blue day dress beside Eleni’s black-and-gold masterpiece. “You can wear that gown for the Samhain masquerade. But you’ll need another for the queen’s Starry Night Ball. I can make an appointment—”

“No.” I cut her off. “Eleni promised to make it. But, uh, I could use a few day dresses.” Maeve sends me one of her signature glares and I deliver one right back. “I told you, I brought my tailor . How was I supposed to know I’d have to trade her to the guild for your heist?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she muses sarcastically. “Maybe because you’re supposed to be a professional. The best, according to Taran. And yet you couldn’t even be bothered to pack properly for a trip to the royal palace !”

Enough of this. “What is your problem with me?” I demand.

Maeve shocks me to my core when she fires right back with the truth. “I don’t want you here. ”

“You hired me!” I sputter.

“Taran hired you,” she corrects. “I was against bringing in a criminal who only cares about how much coin she can steal.”

Alright, ouch.

“And I was right,” she continues, her cheeks flushing with the force of her emotions. “He keeps accommodating you! Letting you make off with the pearls in Heshan, then bring your tailor, then go to the guild—which could have ruined everything, by the way.” She shakes her head. “What have you done to him?”

I cock my head, studying the Elite. She’s talking about Taran like he’s in need of her protection— her , a petite human lady, protecting an enormous Apex with a stoneclaw for a creature.

“You care about him.” Even I can hear the incredulity in my voice. “The beast prince.”

“Don’t call him that,” she snaps. “He’s my cousin. His mother practically raised me. He might as well be my brother.”

“He’s Apex. Maybe he was like your brother once. But now that he’s emerged, he could go feral at any moment. He’d tear out your throat without blinking, Maeve. He wouldn’t even recognize you.”

Her eyes flare. “It would be his creature that didn’t recognize me. Not Taran. And he shouldn’t have to answer for something that may never happen. Something he can’t control.”

I stare at her. “How can you be so casual about this? He could kill you, Maeve.” And now I understand Eleni’s earlier reaction. What was I thinking, riling him like that? “Maybe you Elite don’t get it because you think you have the guardians leashed and under your thumb. But Apex are deadly.”

“You think I need you to tell me that?” She barks a short derisive laugh, her fists clenching and unclenching as though she’s itching to slap me. “The woman who was more of a mother to me than my own—Queen Kora. She was ripped apart by a feral Apex creature. Her own guardian, Nadine, had a rare healing gift and tried to save her, only to die herself in the process. That female was like my aunt.” Maeve tilts a stubborn chin up defiantly, somehow managing to make me feel as though she’s sneering down at me even though I’m a head taller.

I jolt backwards at the gruesome story. “Then why in Jinai’s name are you helping your Apex cousin steal from the king?”

Her mouth sets in a thin line, and she crosses her arms across her chest. “I promised Taran I would let him explain.”

“Deferring to your beastly prince again, I see.”

“Don’t. Call. Him. That,” she practically growls.

A soft, tentative knock at the door.

“Come in!” we shout in unison.

After a moment of hesitation, the door creaks open. An incredibly petite Shanterran girl enters, eyes downcast. I forget all about the fight with Maeve. What is this girl wearing?

“Is that supposed to be your Apex?” Maeve whisper-shouts. The girl freezes at Maeve’s words before she even makes it halfway into the room.

She’s wearing a guardian’s uniform. She must be the Apex the guild sent.

But if she is, she’s the smallest one I’ve ever seen. She has to be wearing a youth-size uniform; no chance an adult’s would come close to fitting her. And with her stick-straight ebony hair, dark, fathomless eyes and ivory skin, there’s no mistaking her heritage—she’s Shanterran.

I walk over to the small female, softening my gaze non-threateningly and keeping my voice gentle. “Did the key master send you?” I ask in the common tongue.

She hesitates, throwing Maeve a cautious look.

I break into the warm, kind smile I use when I need to coax children. “Lady Ashbourne is assisting with our little project.” I had hoped not to reveal her involvement, but that window has now closed. Maeve huffs in my peripheral, crossing her arms.

The girl nods tentatively, and something about the way she cocks her head as I approach reminds me of a tiny bird.

“I’m Lady Loriella Thorne. What’s your name? ”

“Meiling.” She pronounces it the Shanterran way: May-ling . Her voice is barely above a whisper, but the sweet tone combined with her name has my stomach sinking.

“Meiling.” I do my best to keep the smile fixed on my face. “Are you an auditory Apex?”

She nods.

“You have an ear for music?” I venture.

She nods again, more sure this time.

Maeve outright groans, and though I don’t join her, I’d very much like to. I knew it. Meiling means beautiful melody in Shanterran. I’ve no doubt she has perfect pitch, that she could pick up any instrument and play an incomparable sonata.

It’s a gift I would kill for, actually, since I’m completely tone deaf. I can speak in countless languages and can’t sing in a single one.

The irony is not lost on me.

But as much as I can personally appreciate Meiling’s gift, it’s not one that helps us today. There’s no conceivable world in which an Elite father would choose a tiny songbird for his daughter’s personal Apex guardian, much less select that Apex to travel with her to the Veridian capital.

Taran was so concerned that a big male Apex would blow my cover; now it’s about to be annihilated by the exact opposite. I fume silently, cursing the prick of a key master for mocking me by sending someone so clearly unsuitable.

“Meiling—” I start, but she must hear the dismissal in my voice. Her fine-boned face is suddenly fierce.

“The key master said I don’t ever have to go back.” Her voice is still quiet but firm. “I serve you, as your Apex, for as long as you need, and then he will get me home. To my family.” Tears well in her eyes, but her voice never wavers. “I know I’m Shanterran, Lady Thorne, and small. But that means I’ve never been to court. None of the Elite will recognize me.”

I examine this dainty Apex more closely. Dark circles shadow her eyes. She must have traveled half the night to get here in time, which means she’s not from the capital. She’s likely right that no one will recognize her. If being Shanterran in Veridia is anything like being Veridian in Shanterra, she’s probably been treated as a second-class Apex ever since she arrived in this country, hidden from view, certainly not paraded before guests. The ache in my rib cage intensifies.

Well, that settles it. Meiling is staying. It’s not like I have another Apex waiting in the wings anyway.

She visibly relaxes at the decision on my face, her frame loosening. As I’m pondering how to play this, Maeve steps up beside me, staring down at poor Meiling, who seems to curl in on herself at the Elite’s presence.

“This isn’t going to work.” Maeve isn’t being intentionally cruel, just brutally realistic. I think.

It comes to me all at once. “Poison.”

“What?”

“We’ll say she can scent poison. And mix them. Odorless, tasteless—she can detect them.” My imagination spins more backstory. “My grandfather was an emissary to Shanterra. An emissary might be wary of poisoning, right? Might pick up an Apex as a gift on one of his trips.”

Maeve considers for a moment. “That might work. Even better, all the other women vying for Taran’s hand will assume you brought the Apex along to poison them .”

My lips tip up at that idea.

“Mei.” I purposely shorten the female’s name. No need to risk anyone else speaking Shanterran and connecting the dots. “Why don’t you settle into your room before we need to go down?” I gesture to the tiny, windowless bedroom.

She squares her slender shoulders and gives me a determined nod before heading to the guardian room and closing the door behind her. A moment later, the cot squeaks as she lays down. Guilt tugs at me—I wish I could give her more time to rest—but we’ll need to be downstairs soon. Whatever Maeve has planned, my new Apex guardian needs to be by my side if we’re to have any chance of pulling this off .

Speaking of—“What are you all dressed up for anyway?” I speak softly, cautious of the auditory Apex now in our midst.

Maeve’s mouth tightens. “The queen is throwing a garden party. Taran will be there and will publicly acknowledge you. If you’re spotted together in the future, it won’t raise as many eyebrows.”

I nod slowly. “Is there any more backstory I need to be aware of? Like where Lady Thorne hails from?”

Her eyes flick to the closed bedroom door. “Nostura. It’s near enough to the Shanterran border that your foreign guardian will make some semblance of sense. It’s also remote enough that no one from the capital would visit but still has a population of Elite. Most importantly, it’s not within Lord Winters’ territory.”

Before I can find out who Lord Winters is or why it’s so important my cover story doesn’t overlap with his territory, another gentle knock comes at the door. Maeve opens it, revealing a pleasantly plump Veridian woman of middle age. This one must actually be the maid.

“Suvi.” Maeve’s relief is evident. “Thank goodness they sent you. Lady Thorne needs a lot of help.”

I barely resist rolling my eyes. Dropping casual insults is like sport to this woman. Still, I can’t deny her help is likely to prove essential to shoring up my cover.

Maeve and Suvi huddle together, whispering conspiratorially, while throwing me pointed glances. The twin looks on their faces have me taking an automatic step back.

“Loriella…can I call you Lor?” Maeve sounds downright gleeful.

“Why don’t you try it and see?”

Her emerald eyes flare in challenge.

“Lady Thorne,” Suvi cuts in more respectfully. “Lady Ashbourne mentioned that things were done a little…differently…in Nostura than we do here in the capital, is that right?”

It behooves me not at all to disagree with this statement, so I nod, not sure where she’ s going with it.

“And, Lady Ashbourne also mentioned”—Suvi approaches slowly, hands raised like she’s trying not to spook a wild animal—“you’re quite taken with His Highness Prince Nyxley and hoping to set yourself up to your best advantage with the royal family. Correct?”

I nod again. Also not something I can refute, given it’s the backbone of my cover. But the delighted expression on Maeve’s face has me highly suspicious. I have to physically hold myself in place as the lady’s maid advances.

She takes my hand in two of her pale ones. If she notices we share the same number of calluses, she’s professional enough to hold her tongue. Suvi looks up at me with earnest blue eyes and a kind face, which has the unfortunate side effect of reminding me of Eleni and bringing the ache roaring back to the forefront.

Perhaps that’s why when she asks, “Do you trust me, Lady Thorne?”

I respond in the most foolish way I possibly could.

“Of course I do.”