Page 17 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 17

ALORA

H ours later, I’ve been plucked, polished and shaved to within an inch of my life. The two women barely let me bolt down the breakfast brought to the room. Meanwhile, Maeve lounged on one of the indigo armchairs, “supervising” and making a show of choosing just the right strawberry to munch on.

Far from the dramatic, sultry trend in Shanterra, Veridia is apparently going through an “innocence” phase for its female set. My dark locks are arranged in thick curls, loose down my back as if I were a girl. Blush pink highlights the apples of my cheeks and lips.

The gown Maeve selected for me fits fairly well. It’s a little short, showing off the pale blue matching slippers, but that just adds to its girlish appearance. What’s not girlish at all is the generous dip of the gown’s tight bodice. Combined with the corset they both vehemently insisted on, it completely undoes anything innocent about the ensemble.

When I brought up this hypocrisy to the women I’m now thinking of as my captors, they both responded in unison, “Exactly!” and then laughed hysterically. I shut my mouth after that. You can’t argue with crazy .

I touch Xinlei’s shining hairpin, the only weapon I was able to wear with this ensemble. As usual, the day dress Maeve brought me had no pockets. A godsdamned travesty in my opinion.

Along with my lynx talisman, hidden with the longer chain, the hairpin provides some measure of comfort. This garden party is our first chance to cement my cover in front of the court. Maeve assures me that only the queen and Taran will be in attendance from the royal family—a fact that soothes my nerves. Slightly.

The late morning sun casts a soft, golden glow on the vibrant flowers and sculpted hedges that adorn the palace garden. As Maeve and I stroll through the gates, conversations hum around us, mixing with the delicate clinking of fine china and crystal to create a familiar symphony.

Almost immediately, I spot the queen holding court with her ladies at the heart of the revel. Queen Nyxley’s gown is a cascade of pale pink silk, and it’s an effort to tear my attention away from the glittering crown and array of jewels draped over her. All the extravagance almost hides her youthful appearance…almost. The mother of the crown prince of Veridia might be younger than I am.

She is sprawled on a checkered blanket beneath a white tent, surrounded by men jostling for her attention. A quick sweep of the party reveals no crowned man who might be the king. My shoulders dip in relief. I’d much rather get the lay of the land before being confronted with the mark.

Even though it’s still before noon, servants are passing around sparkling drinks and many of the Elite in attendance look well into their cups. The queen gestures enthusiastically, sloshing the pale pink liquid in her glass. I’m sure it’s no coincidence the drink perfectly matches her gown and the clusters of roses surrounding her.

At my side, Maeve appears unfazed by the debauchery. She casually swipes one of the pink drinks from a passing tray, though I notice she doesn’t bring it to her lips. Meiling and Astrid trail close behind us.

Straight ahead, beneath the spreading branches of an apple blossom tree, a small group of female Elite are laughing together. I can tell at a glance these women are the ones to know, the most sought-after. Something about the way the others keep discreetly casting their eyes towards the little group—while the favored simultaneously preen at the attention and pretend they don’t notice it.

Maeve visibly steels herself and starts chanting to me under her breath. “Remember, Mei is a poison detector. Your grandfather is a Shanterran emissary in Nostura. Your—”

I cast her an incredulous look and cut off her murmured tirade with a hand on her pale arm. She jumps at even that gentle touch. “Maeve.” I catch her eye and nod encouragingly. “I’ve got this.”

I have nearly infinite things to worry about in this palace, not the least of which is pulling off my and Meiling’s cover in front of the fucking king of Veridia, who would undoubtedly torture me for pure pleasure should he discover what we’re up to.

A handful of human Elite whose greatest gift is bullying other women they deem beneath them is not making the list.

Whatever Maeve sees in my eyes snaps her out of her anxiety. A haughty expression slides over her face. A mask, I recognize now, having seen this exact same expression directed my way when we first met.

She surprises me by tucking my hand under her arm and then casually strolls us over to the group under the tree.

“Lady Ashbourne, you’re back.” The speaker sounds neither surprised nor pleased Maeve has returned to court. But this is the world of the Elite—where every smile hides a motive, and every word is a delicate step in a dance of intrigue.

The woman addressing Maeve is striking, her fair coloring reminiscent of Eleni. But where Eleni’s blue eyes hold warmth and are deep like the ocean, this woman’s are icy and cool. Her voice, too, carries a chill that brings to mind the biting wind from the rooftop of Count Zhao’s mansion.

“Ladies Winters, Pembrook, Holloway. ” Maeve nods formally to each of the women, starting with the one who greeted her. My eyes widen slightly at the name—the mysterious Lord Winters’ daughter, perhaps? “May I present Lady Loriella Thorne, recently come to court from Nostura.”

“Nostura?” Lady Winters sneers. She’s clearly the ringleader of this little band. The other two women stay silent, content to follow her lead.

I paste on a sweet smile. “Yes, my grandfather was an emissary to Shanterra.” I’m careful to use the Elite pronunciation of the common tongue, ensuring my words show I’ve been educated in the ways of the court.

The lady’s pale eyes slip past me to Meiling. I force myself to maintain my placid expression, hands loose at my sides. “ That’s your Apex?” she exclaims.

Well, better to get this out of the way. The ladies’ own Apex guardians stand at attention behind them, all mirror copies of Astrid’s strong stature. In comparison, the Elite women look dainty, petite.

And then there’s Meiling. She looks like a child.

All of a sudden, I realize that I have grossly miscalculated. Even poison tasting is not going to be enough. I’m used to passing as an Elite in Heshan for a single evening, but this is the royal court at the Veridian capital, for Jinai’s sake. Any Apex chosen to serve here are the cream of the crop—sharpshooters like Carter or physical marvels like Astrid.

Not to mention, I’m supposed to be here to pursue the country’s most eligible bachelor. Even if Meiling was my Apex back home, surely my family would have chosen the most impressive one in our family’s service to accompany me.

I’m frantically racking my brain on how to get out of this, but I’m starting to think my cover might be blown before the beast prince even makes an appearance.

“She can scent—” Maeve starts, already sounding defensive, and it comes to me in a flash.

“Lady Ashbourne,” I scold quietly, cutting her off. “I asked you not to tell anyone.”

The shift in tone has the desired effect. In spite of themselves, the ladies are intrigued. The plump brunette in a lemon-yellow dress, Lady Holloway, can’t help herself .

“Can scent what?” she whispers excitedly. “Oh, surely you can’t mean…”

“No, no, I really can’t say.” I let my smile falter, adding just the right amount of hesitation. “My grandfather was very clear about that before he gave me Mei to bring to Ravenscrest. She was a gift from a visiting Shanterran dignitary.”

The ladies are almost rabid with curiosity—their faces hungry with it.

“Oh, come now, Lady Thorne,” Lady Winters prods carefully. “We’re all friends here. Lady Ashbourne can vouch for us, can’t you?”

Maeve is clearly clueless about where I’m going with this, but she gives me an encouraging nod. “You’ll find no greater friends at court than the four of us,” she says with just a touch too much sincerity.

I wring my hands. “Well. Maybe just you three since you’re Lady Ashbourne’s friends. Can you keep a secret?”

They let out nervous laughs, even Maeve. Of course they can’t keep a secret. Whatever I say now will be broadcast across the entire capital before lunch is served.

I lower my voice to a murmur, so quiet that the ladies have to bend their coiffed heads in close enough to nearly touch mine, their painted faces rapt with attention.

“Lies.”

“Oh!” Lady Holloway lets out a gasp, then claps a gloved hand over her pink rosebud mouth, glancing over at Lady Winters and gauging her reaction.

But the ash-blonde is staring at Meiling with narrowed pale blue eyes. And not as if she doesn’t believe me—as if she does. And now she’s working out how to steal her for herself.

Smelling lies is an exceedingly rare talent. The way I’ve heard it described, it’s not just that the Apex’s sense of smell is so acute—it’s that they can taste the veracity behind the words on their tongue. So, tasting lies is more accurate.

It’s an almost legendary gift. Even if your Apex possessed it, you’d keep it to yourself, the better to wield it against your enemies .

But since Meiling can taste lies just about as well as I can, there’s no reason for me not to spread this myth all over Ravenscrest.

It explains everything. Her short stature yet elevated position. Why my family would have chosen her to come with me. Why I think I even have a chance with the prince despite being from some no-name border town.

“Have you told Tare?” Lady Winters asks Maeve suddenly. Her use of the casual nickname, one his friends use, doesn’t escape me.

“N-no,” Maeve stutters. “I only just learned this morning. And Lady Thorne asked me not to tell anyone.”

“Well, that’s smart.” Lady Winters’ eyes are calculating. “Let’s all make a pact right now not to reveal Lady Thorne’s secret.” She looks accusingly at her cohorts, and they pipe up quickly, confirming they won’t say a word.

My lips tip up as if I’m relieved, but internally I’m a maelstrom of confusion. This is delicious gossip—why is she trying to keep it under wraps?

My answer comes in the very next moment as the prince himself strides into the garden, Carter in his wake.

The effect on Lady Winters is instantaneous. She pulls herself up to her full height—which is not much, I note snidely—tosses her beautiful platinum curls and lets a coy smile play across her pink-stained mouth.

This woman wants the prince. And she thinks if he knows I have an Apex who can taste lies, he’ll be more likely to consider me as a match. I tuck that tidbit away for future use.

Taran makes a beeline for our little group, Carter in tow. I feel the weight of the queen’s scrutiny on him from afar—he ignores her completely. Whispers erupt at his presence, filling the floral-sweet air with gossip.

The Elite ladies around me preen at his advance, fluffing their hair and rearranging their skirts. Too late, I realize I should do the same and half-heartedly smooth my borrowed gown.

The prince is dressed in a smart suit, black, of course, paired with a crisp white shirt open at the collar, revealing bronzed skin. No longer on the road, his facial hair is trimmed to a fashionable stubble that highlights his sharp cheekbones and square jaw. His unruly dark hair is tamed, smoothed back. He looks like he did when we met in Heshan—an incongruent combination of rugged strength with polished Elite charm that somehow manages to quicken my pulse.

I begin to feel a small trickle of empathy for Lady Winters. Just a drop.

“Cousin. Lady Winters, Lady Pembrook, Lady Holloway.” He bows to each one in turn before directing his attention to me.

Taran’s gaze is heavy, like a physical touch, as it drags slowly over my body. I can feel the exact moment it reaches my deep bodice and the delicate chain that disappears beneath it. By the time he speaks, I’m breathless.

A slow curve starts up the right side of his mouth. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh!” Maeve jumps as though she’s only just remembered my presence. “Taran, this is Lady Thorne. My mother knows her family, but this is her first time at court.”

“Lady Thorne, a pleasure.” His rough, masculine voice, shaped by Elite elocution, rolls through me again, and it takes all my years of training not to physically react. Damn him and his beast. He’s not even using my real name.

His eyes sweep over the Apex standing at attention behind us before lighting on Meiling, her contrast against the others. Thunderclouds of absolute rage darken the prince’s expression. Mei’s slender shoulders curve inward as if she expects him to strike her.

“And who is this?” he demands.

“My Apex.” I can’t help the defensiveness in my voice, not with that aggressive tone aimed at Mei. “My grandfather chose her to accompany me to Ravenscrest.”

“She can scent poison,” Maeve adds quickly, giving a meaningful look to the other women. Lady Winters’ mouth curves into a sly smile.

Guess who Maeve’s not fooling with that lie? The beast prince who can smell every Apex’s creature and their gift. The other women must not understand the full extent of his power to think there’s even a chance of keeping this under wraps around him. Possibly they think all he knows is that she’s an olfactory Apex .

“Her grandfather was an emissary to Shanterra and himself the target of poison,” Lady Winters cuts in. “Clearly, he’s just looking out for his beloved granddaughter.”

I almost laugh at Lady Winters lying on my behalf—selling the original cover I came up with, no less—and nearly miss Taran’s building rage. Just like they did in the clearing, his silver eyes have shifted to glowing gray storm clouds. He stares, unblinking, at my petite guardian.

Shit.

Carter thumps his charge’s shoulder once, breaking Taran out of his menacing trance. “I’ll have a chat with our royal guard about this then, shall I?” his guardian suggests.

“Come now, Your Highness.” Lady Winters boldly lays a delicate gloved hand on Taran’s forearm. He looks down at it as though he might bite it off, and she quickly snatches it back. “We’re in the palace gardens. No Thalassarian pirates are coming to steal us away. Poison is the more likely assault.”

Maybe I would be better off with a poison detector for an Apex. I’m starting to think that would be this woman’s weapon of choice.

“That’s exactly right, Lady Winters,” Maeve says in a decisive tone that means the argument is settled.

Lady Winters seizes her opportunity to change the subject. “Your Highness, I heard the queen is throwing a ball in your honor. We must know all the details.”

The other women jump in to cajole him. He’s visibly frustrated, thrown from his warpath, answering their excited questions in gruff monosyllables.

I gather the young queen is well known for her revels. Now that the prince is back from Shanterra, there’s sure to be one nearly every night.

I can’t decide if this is an advantage or a disadvantage in our search for the amulet. On the one hand, the Elite will be distracted nearly every evening, drinking until the early hours, then hungover all day .

On the other hand, apparently Taran is the only one who can find the amulet, and from this conversation, it sounds like he’ll be a guest of honor at every single revel. I’m not sure how we get around that.

“Lady Thorne, will you accompany me on a turn about the gardens?” Taran’s gravelly voice interrupts my scheming. Lady Winters’ lips turn down into an almost comically sour expression as though she’s bitten into a large lemon.

“I’d be delighted,” I reply.

The prince inclines his head towards the maze of hedges. Instead of offering me his arm, his hands slip into his pockets, a subtle acknowledgement that he’s not a regular Elite. The muscles on his right forearm tighten. He’s clutching that same hidden object I spied on our journey to the capital. A talisman of some kind? A weapon?

“Oh, don’t worry about her, Victoria,” I overhear Maeve assure Lady Winters—whose first name I’ve now learned. “You know Tare. Tends to get all distracted by the shiny new thing. He’ll come back to his senses soon enough.”

Does he now? What a lot I’m learning about my new client. And what does she mean, “Come back ?” Do he and Lady Winters have a history? That would explain her proprietary behavior around him. I feel multiple gazes on my back, following us as we disappear into the labyrinth.

Taran waits until we’re out of sight of the party, then nods to Carter, trailing behind us with Mei. The guardian pulls up immediately, grasping Mei’s arm and forcing her to a standstill, while we continue on into the garden. So we won’t be overheard, I realize.

I can’t hear or see anyone else nearby, but Taran doesn’t drop cover, strolling along at a leisurely pace. Pretending to examine a particularly fragrant lily, the prince murmurs with barely repressed irritation, “The guild sent you a songbird?”

Interesting. I knew Meiling was auditory and had an ear for music, but I’ve never instinctively known someone’s inner creature before. Well, besides the beast in front of me, but I’m trying to pretend that never happened .

“I told the ladies she can taste lies.”

That’s enough to temporarily shock him out of his building anger at the Veridian Guild. And turn it on to me. Whoops.

His quicksilver eyes flare. “You what?”

“I told them she can taste lies, but my grandfather said to keep it a secret. Lady Winters seems quite keen to assist me in hiding it. Do you two have some sort of history I should know about?”

His brow creases. “We grew up together. Her father is one of the king’s closest advisors, so Victoria believes a match is inevitable. And Maeve has fueled that fire with the false rumor about changing the law for me.”

There’s an unpleasant dip in my stomach, and I’m not sure why. So what if the rumor that provides my cover was planted? They shouldn’t make an exception for Taran, and even if they did, it would have no effect on my life. And I’m certainly not noticing that he called Lady Winters by her given name. Not. At. All.

“Maeve mentioned a Lord Winters,” I say in a neutral tone.

He tenses. “What did she say?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Just that it was important my fictitious home not be located in his territory.”

The prince’s broad shoulders uncoil. “She’s right. They were always close, but ever since my mother died, Simon Winters and my father have been inseparable. If you draw his attention, you draw my father’s.”

“What about his daughter’s? How do I not draw her attention?”

He gives me a rueful look. “That was always inevitable. She’s going to view any beautiful woman as competition.”

My cheeks heat at the casual compliment. “So you two never…” I trail off suggestively.

An arrogant smirk curls Taran’s full mouth. “Jealous, Lady Lynx?”

“Hardly.” I sniff. “I’m supposed to be her competition. I’m just asking so I know whether Victoria is going to try to murder me in my bed.” Fine. Maybe I did notice .

His expression turns abruptly serious. “Don’t underestimate her. Victoria’s expectations may be completely out of touch with reality, but that just makes her more dangerous if she thinks you’re going to get in her way.”

I really don’t need him to tell me that. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“We were betrothed. Our fathers arranged it when we were children, well before I emerged. Obviously, after that, the contract was considered moot. With the rumor of the announcement…” He rubs a big hand over his stubbled jaw. “An unfortunate side effect is that she falsely believes she has a chance to reinstate the match.” His gaze sharpens. “Now, stop trying to distract me from the real issue, which is that liability the guild saddled us with.”

“ She can hear you. And she has a name. It’s Meiling.”

“Beautiful melody? That figures,” he scoffs. I try to hide my surprise that the prince knows Shanterran. “And no, she can’t, by the way. Her Apex sense tends more towards precision than distance. She can probably remember every note of every song she’s ever heard, but she can’t hear you from this range.” He glances back to where we left our Apex shadows.

“Well, I couldn’t pick out a melody if you were singing right in my ear, so I guess we all have our talents,” I respond without thinking.

“You’re tone deaf?” He looks positively delighted, and I experience instant regret. I don’t know what possessed me to reveal that to the prince of all people.

“No need to look so pleased about it.”

“It does give me comfort. I feel like I’ve yet to find something you can’t do.” He pauses. “Kind of intimidates me, if I’m being honest.”

I snort. Sure, the royal stoneclaw is intimidated by me . “And what have I done that’s been so impressive?”

He begins to tick off accomplishments on his long fingers. “One, you convinced the guild to let you operate in their territory. Two, you secured an Apex, albeit a minuscule one, within twenty-four hours to shore up your cover. Three, you came up with an excuse for said mini Apex that fooled even Victoria—”

I wave my hand to cut him off. “I get the picture. Things any thief worth her salt could do. They don’t really compare to being able to sense the exact range of Meiling’s auditory gift.” I bite my bottom lip, my innate curiosity nipping at me as usual. “How did you learn how to use your gift once you emerged? It’s just…it’s unique. And—”

“And it was even more of a shock coming from an Elite,” he finishes with a wry smile. “That’s a long story, and unfortunately, you need to get back to the party before we set too many tongues wagging.”

Taran’s lips start to curve at my irritated expression before another thought must occur to him that wipes the almost-smile clean away. “Do not tell my father that Meiling can taste lies.”

I huff. At some point, we switched over to hushed Veridian. My tongue flows nostalgically over the fluid words. “I don’t know when you think King Nyxley and I will be chatting about my Apex, but fine. I’m not planning on telling anyone else that story anyway. I just needed Lady Winters to sell my cover to the rest of the Elite.”

His nod comes slow, a measure of respect in his expression. “I’ll walk you both back to Maeve and Astrid and then I’m getting out of here. I fucking hate these things.”

I roll my eyes. Of course he’s going to dip out on his own family’s party while I have to stay here pretending to fawn over Lady Winters and her cronies. In a corset.

My breath stalls as Taran’s hand moves without warning, catching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, his mouth dropping close against the shell of my ear. “I saw that. Not very ladylike behavior, Lynx.”

His husky voice, a vibration more than a sound, is nearly impossible to withstand. My thighs clench together involuntarily, and my pulse flutters at the illicit touch .

I bat him away, and he lets me, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. His eyes glint, reading far too much into whatever he sees on my face. Or worse—whatever he smells from my body. Gods.

“Meet me in the library as soon as you can,” he says, the commanding notes edging back in. “We should have privacy there, especially while the party is going on.”

I sigh heavily for performance and glare up at him. “What now?”

A real smile splits Taran’s face. “Now, we get to work.”