Page 97

It takes about ten minutes, but the king finally excuses himself from the ballroom.

His hand rises to his temple as he makes his way to a side door.

I wait five minutes before following. Kaelis is working the room and keeping his brother occupied.

Ravin is the only one, out of everyone, that I’m worried about.

No one pays me any mind as I slip out of the ballroom.

I’ve studied the layout of this club enough times to know where the toilets are to make my departure look believable enough, and where the staff accesses connect.

A door marked as Private has been left unlocked, just as it should be.

The guts of the building are stark in comparison to the public areas. That makes them easy to navigate.

My heels click lightly on the marble floor as I emerge into a back passage.

I slow my pace. This area is usually set aside for the high rollers and nobles.

Tonight, it’s reserved for the Oricalis family.

I see a familiar set of broad shoulders positioned at the corner of an upcoming intersection. I slow to a stop.

“He just came through. Ren was shortly behind,” Gregor whispers. He knows me by my gait.

“Good. We’ll give it another minute, then.” I keep my voice equally soft. “Any others come through?”

“No. Bristara’s done a good job of giving us a window where there’ll be no guards.”

“Twino?” As I ask, he emerges from a door opposite me with Jura at his side.

“The tea was prepared,” Twino says carefully. Even though we appear to be alone, it’s best not to take any chances.

We all share another set of nervous glances and look to the stately door at the far end of the hall where Ren is.

We’d debated if it was better for Twino to serve the king or Ren.

But, in the end, we didn’t want to risk the same person being in such close proximity to the king twice in a row. Ren is the least known among us.

Twino leans against the wall, heavier than just taking a load off his leg. His eyes are fixated on the door. I shift over to him, grabbing his fingers and holding them tightly. Ren will be all right, the motion says. We’ve been planning and practicing for months.

My other hand slips into the concealed pocket in the billowing skirt of my dress, gliding over the cards hidden there, waiting to be used.

I still haven’t made up my mind. Bristara’s warnings and truths ring louder in my ears than the rushing of my blood.

Yet, all her own secrets remind me of Kaelis’s. Can anyone be trusted?

The door at the end of the hall cracks open. We move.

A grand salon has been converted into the king’s private chambers for the evening.

The room is opulent in a detached way. Finery for its own sake lines the walls and floors as intricately embroidered drapes and brilliantly patterned rugs.

But it lacks personality, warmth. Much like the sovereign himself.

The king is laid out on a daybed. His chest rises and falls with breaths so shallow they’re barely there. The movement is slight enough that I worry Ren overdid the tincture…But Ren looks confident, so I keep my faith in him.

Twino is at the king’s side in an instant, carefully unfastening his jacket and shirt. No doubt remembering just how every button and medallion was placed in the process.

“Did he suspect anything?” My voice is hushed from tension.

“Not that I could tell,” Ren says. “If he did, I suppose he wouldn’t have drunk the tea.”

Twino finishes the last button of the king’s shirt and goes right for the exposed box.

Jura shifts around to the other side of the daybed.

She approaches the box with the same detail-oriented care as when she decorates her winter solstice cookies.

Her nimble little fingers are critical to getting the mechanism open.

Even though it’s the two of them who have been practicing, based on Silas’s drawings, I’m leaning over, watching every movement. As the box shifts between them, its edge catches the light. I squint, narrowing my focus.

A symbol has been etched there. It looks like the last vertical line of an N has been used to write an E, making it a single symbol.

My breath catches. It’s the same mark I saw on the mechanical mill on my first night in the academy, I’d thought it was a V then, but I’m certain this is the same.

The mill prototype in the workshop of the Fool…

whose creator Kaelis said was long gone, who belonged to the Revisan Kingdom.

Once more, the portrait I saw is in the forefront of my mind…

Bristara’s words return to me. The doubts I had about what she said are evaporating. King Naethor was part of the world before this one. The world that was rebuilt by the twenty-first tarot. A world I would bet my life on that he was the one to destroy, given that he now holds all the power here.

Kaelis knows this, too. He must. The mechanism…it could’ve been used to help—if they’d wanted. King Oricalis chose to make this world as horrible as it is and keep it that way. I feel dizzy and try to calm my racing thoughts and heart. Focus on the moment; the rest can wait.

The metal box on the king’s chest opens, and we all take a collective inhale.

I grab the cards, carefully sliding them out. One by one, I compare my forgeries to the real deal. Ren and Jura’s concoction works its magic and the king stays asleep while I go through every card. Gregor goes to check the door. No one says anything, and the silence is deafening.

My fakes are perfect.

The moment I settle the forgeries in their slot, Twino snaps the box shut, locking it once more.

Closing it is far easier and faster than opening it.

I ease away, hand in my pocket. There’s no marked difference in how the cards feel to the touch, which is reassuring.

But my dress feels heavier on the side. My palm is scorching from the power I know they carry.

“Keep it tidy, everyone,” I say solemnly.

Jura nods and leaves quickly to resume her duties as a server; she’ll be among the last to leave but will be dismissed from her position soon.

Ren follows a few steps behind, turning in the opposite direction to where I assume the kitchens are.

Gregor stays by the door, keeping watch.

Twino and I emerge into the hall together, Gregor shutting the door behind us.

“Stay safe getting out of here,” I whisper.

“I’ll make sure he does,” Gregor answers, ever confident in his own abilities.

Twino’s face relaxes into an easy smile that says, Don’t worry, without him having to say a word.

I do worry. I always have. It’s worse ever since Halazar and that night. I can’t bear the idea of losing them all again. But no matter the cost, we keep moving forward.

Which for them is through another side door.

For me it’s the opposite direction. I emerge into the grand hallway and wipe a thin sheen of sweat from my brow.

I can’t go back looking as guilty as I am.

After taking a moment to collect myself, I move through the hallways on a different route than before.

Bristara might not be physically present for our missions, but her organizing and coordinating of them never fails.

As long as we’re all where we’re supposed to be, it’s as if we walk with invisible shields.

She maneuvers security and staff by changing delivery times, schedules, and turnovers with a hand that always extended far beyond her reach.

I round the corner with all the confidence in the world and find myself face-to-face with a group of Stellis.

Not staff. Not security. Not even city enforcers.

Stellis. The one group that would be the hardest for Bristara to have control over.

Fuck.

They all face me as if I’d actually said the word and not just thought it loudly. The world freezes as they assess me—my flushed cheeks, the sweat I was wiping from my palms. I look guilty, and I can’t have that. Not appearing guilty is the majority of innocence.

“Evening, gentlemen.” I force myself to incline my head slightly. I hope I give them enough respect that I don’t come off as rude, but not so much that it would suggest deference to them.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” the man in the middle asks. He has an extra set of feathers coming from his helmet and a badge pinned to his breast. A captain, I believe.

“I was looking for Prince Kaelis.” I keep an air of authority about me.

“Prince Kaelis hasn’t left his brother’s side for the past hour,” the one to the right says skeptically.

Well, damn him for doing exactly what we’d agreed on. “Oh, really? I thought we’d agreed on him meeting me in private to…” I stop myself with fingertips on my lips and hope my flush looks like a blush. “Never you mind. I’ll head back to the ballroom, then.”

Just as I turn, the leader catches my wrist, his grip firmer than I’d like. I plaster on a confused, borderline annoyed look.

“Excuse me?”

“The king told us to look out for you.”

“Did he now?” I ease my expression into a coy smile. “Did it occur to you that perhaps he said that so you could properly welcome me into these chambers, since I am Kaelis’s betrothed?”

They share an uncertain look, affirming that the king didn’t elaborate. Which could work to my advantage. Or…no.

“We’re going to need you to come with us. Better to check.”

Bile is right at the top of my throat. I swallow it down. Flashes of the night I was caught race through my mind, attacking me from every direction. Don’t panic, I command myself.

“The prince might have something to say about that,” I say.

“The prince answers to his father as much as we do.”

I suppose that’s true. My fingers twitch, resisting the urge to call upon the deck at my hip. I still have the Chariot card Silas gave me, but I don’t want to use it except in desperation.

“Very—” well, I’m about to say, but I’m interrupted.