Page 18 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 18

ALORA

G etting to work has to wait, however. At least for me. Taran doesn’t even do me the courtesy of walking us all the way back. He exits another way, presumably to escape his stepmother and adoring fans.

Coward.

Of course, my little promenade with the beast prince hasn’t gone unnoticed. The second I show my face back at the party, Maeve and Lady Winters’ exclusive circle surrounds me.

“What did Taran say?” Maeve asks breathlessly, her enthusiasm just shy of believable. She’s pretending to be excited for me and my fictional quest for his heart.

“There are lilies all over Shanterra.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I mentioned I’m partial to them because of my grandfather. Prince Nyxley was just showing me Veridia’s blooms.”

Rule Number Three: The best lies are mostly true.

If anyone was spying on us—though I doubt they could pull that off—it fits what we were doing.

Apparently, I misstepped, though. Every one of the ladies’ jaws drops. Every. One. We were in a godsdamn garden. Showing me flowers shouldn’t be this surprising .

Then I’m rescued by the unlikeliest of saviors.

“Lady Thorne?” A servant in the queen’s livery bows at my elbow. “Queen Nyxley requests your presence.”

Every pair of eyes shoots to the queen’s tent. She has her back turned to us, her strawberry-blonde hair arranged in a complicated updo that sparkles with gemstones. It’s like she wants us to know she’s important enough to summon me and ignore me if she chooses.

“Well.” Maeve clears her throat. “I’m sure Lady Thorne would be delighted. I’ll introduce you.” And only her tight grip on my arm reveals her nerves.

I pat her hand reassuringly and say brightly to the other women, “Such an absolute pleasure to meet with you all today. I feel as though we’ve been friends forever.” I’m laying it on a bit thick, but these are egos that need to be stroked. Lady Winters has already proven what an asset she can be in shoring up my cover.

Queen Delilah Nyxley appears slightly older than I thought at first glance—maybe just my age—but barely older than some of the debutantes fluttering around the edges of the gathering. Her pale pink skirts are spread out to good effect on the black-and-white checkered blanket beneath the snowy white tent. Potted pink roses frame the area.

Clearly, this queen adores a theme. The men sitting on or standing round her blanket also wear pink roses in their lapels; her four ladies are in various shades of blush.

I’m no expert in court politics, but it’s not too different from spying or thieving when you get right down to it. The more information you gather, the better you can wield it to your advantage.

Rule Number Seven: Information is power.

“Ah, Lady Thorne, Lady Ashbourne.” The queen shakes me from my reverie. Maeve and I both drop into graceful, perfect curtsies. Mine because my training gives me catlike reflexes. Maeve’s because she’s been doing this since she was in leading strings .

Queen Nyxley eyes us both. She’s clearly been indulging in her signature pink cocktail. There’s a rosy hue on her cheeks and a slight haze in her moss-green eyes.

“I hear you’re from Nostura?” she prods, then hiccups daintily. She waves her hand at a servant, and they quickly fill it with a glass of ice water.

Heard from who? News does travel fast. Though, any of the surrounding Apex could be auditory.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” My voice is demure, deferential. “Lady Ashbourne was so good to let me come join her in the capital. Truly, the Elite gatherings I’ve attended pale in comparison to this affair.” I let my eyes grow big like I’m a simple country girl, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the palace.

As anticipated, the queen preens. I’ve hit on something she takes pride in.

“This is nothing,” she boasts. “I’m hosting a ball that will be like nothing anyone here has ever seen.”

“The queen is famous throughout the land for the elegance and artistry of her revels,” a male voice booms. I turn in surprise to see a middle-aged man with ashy-blonde hair coiffed to perfection and snapping pale blue eyes approaching the blanket. Like the queen, he’s draped in jewels, his clothes finely made. He has a haughty, stark kind of a beauty.

The queen magnanimously extends her hand, and he bows over it, depositing a kiss upon the many jeweled rings. “You’re late,” she scolds the man in an indulgent tone.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. You know how I tend to get lost in my research.” He rises from his crouch and appraises me with a frank look, gaze lingering a moment too long on the low dip of my bodice. “Another new lady at court? How many is that now?”

The queen pouts. “It’s ridiculous. Wherever is this gossip coming from?” She gives a pointed look around the party, stuffed to the brim with Elite ladies of marriageable age, drawn to court by Maeve’s false rumor. What must the king think of this impromptu marriage mart for the son he disinherited ?

Maeve interjects smoothly, “Perhaps they are here to experience one of your balls, Your Majesty. Just as Lord Winters said, they’re all anyone talks about.”

My gaze flicks back to the man—Victoria’s father and the king’s closest advisor. His hands gleam with rings, and a large, gold-plated emerald hangs around his neck. My fingers twitch with the urge to relieve him of some of his finery, but I tamp it down. There’s only one amulet I’m here to steal, and Lord Winters isn’t wearing it to a garden party.

Rule Number Eight: Stay silent and observe.

But now the queen has turned her attention to me, naked boredom in her green eyes. She snaps her fan in my direction. “Tell me, are you here to chase after my stepson, Lady Thorne?”

“I’m more excited to attend my first royal ball, Your Majesty.” I pretend to sneak a peek at one of the lords lounging on her blanket. “I can’t wait to dance with all the eligible young men . Assuming they ask me, of course.”

A measure of satisfaction slips over the queen’s face when I emphasize the word “men.” Even if Taran hadn’t told me about his disinheritance and the bigotry behind it, every Elite is certain in their place of human superiority over the “animals” they’ve tethered.

What’s more interesting is that Lord Winters has the same reaction. I wonder how he feels about his daughter’s obvious interest in an Apex, even one that happens to be a prince.

Queen Nyxley claps her sparkling hands. “You and Lady Ashbourne must come join me and my ladies for afternoon tea tomorrow,” she commands. The ladies-in-waiting nod enthusiastically like little trained puppies.

I groan inwardly. I need to be focusing on locating the king’s amulet and gaining access to the guardian records, not buttering up naive young queens. I only wanted her to like me enough not to actively undermine me in my task—not enough that she’d invite me to fucking tea.

“Oh, excellent!” Maeve answers for us both. “Queen Nyxley, that is too good of you. Perhaps you can share more details with us about the ball during tea? ”

The queen waves her hand good-naturedly in dismissal, already moving on to her next distraction. Maeve and I take our leave with more deep curtsies, promising to join Her Majesty tomorrow morning. Thankfully, Maeve guides me towards the exit rather than back to the revelry, a familiar mask on her face.

She drops my arm the second we’re back inside the palace.

“Thank Lumos that’s over,” she mutters.

“You did well.”

Maeve raises one perfectly groomed eyebrow at the praise. “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?”

I shrug. “You’re the one who knows the landscape. It’s actually more difficult for you. You have to carry the deceit.”

“It sure felt like I was carrying something.” She rolls her shoulders as if to relieve the tension. “I didn’t expect it would be that much harder than it normally is.”

“You’re normally lying to everyone?”

She laughs without humor. “Everyone is lying to everyone. All the time.”

Well, that’s…sad, really. “Would it make you feel better if I said you’re really good at it?”

The ghost of a smile. “Maybe.”

We continue down the hallway, Astrid and Meiling trailing behind us. I can’t be sure if their careful distance is typical or if Astrid is doing it on purpose so we can’t be overheard by Mei. At least it means the tiny Apex has a semblance of a chance of keeping up with Astrid’s long strides.

“That’s why Tare can’t stand these things, you know,” Maeve confides under her breath. “All the lying.”

“I would think he’d be used to it,” I reply coolly.

Maeve stops me with a hand on my arm. “I know you think you know him, but you don’t.”

I blink. “I don’t need to know him.” I can tell she wants to say more but is restraining herself. Fine by me—I’m ready for this conversation to be over. “Speaking of our beastly prince, he said to meet him in the library. ”

“Don’t call him that,” she scolds. But she does lead me to the library.

“Be careful,” she murmurs, with a pointed look at Mei, hurrying up the hall to meet us, taking three steps to every one of Astrid’s. “You must keep Taran’s involvement secret from the guild.”

As Astrid and Maeve take their leave, I peek down at the Veridian Guild spy, who cannot, under any circumstances, see me scheming with the Veridian prince waiting for me inside those doors.

Splendid.

I fix an easy smile on my face. “Mei, I think you should head back to the room. Get some rest while you can.”

Her brow crinkles. “I thought I’m meant to stay by your side at all times? As your personal Apex.” Her protest is hesitant and carefully worded—this is not a female used to questioning authority. I can work with that.

“They’re all still at the garden party,” I reason. “If anyone sees me alone, which is unlikely, I’ll tell them you took ill or something.”

She twists her fingers in her oversized uniform. “Apex don’t take ill, My Lady.”

“They don’t? Not ever?”

She shakes her head vigorously.

Taran was right. I would have been caught in a matter of seconds if I’d tried to pass as an Apex. Besides their danger, I know very little about them. “I’ll think of something else. Lying is sort of my business, after all.”

Her dark eyes dart to the large wooden doors of the library, their engraved vines curling like the ones in the garden. “The key master said…” she whispers but trails off.

I widen my eyes as if I don’t know exactly what that prick told her to do—to shadow my every move. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Her hands twist tighter in the sleeves.

“Mei, I’m just going to the library to get a book. You’re welcome to follow me in, but I’d really prefer you take the time to rest. There will be all-night revels, and you’ll serve me— and the key master—better if you can keep your eyes halfway open for them. ”

The reasoning seems to reach her even if her uncertainty lingers. “Alright, My Lady,” she finally acquiesces. “But please wake me when you come back to the rooms.”

“Of course,” I promise.

With one last wary glance, she leaves in the same direction as Maeve and Astrid. Fingers crossed she can find her way back to our suites.

With that taken care of, I push open the heavy doors and go inside to meet the beast prince.