Page 83 of A Game of Veils

I can’t restrain a rough laugh. “You don’t have to worry about marrying him now. You can stay with me as long as you need to until it’s safe, and then I’ll see you get back home to your beloved medic. Your father can’t pressure you about a match befitting your station anymore.”

A teary sheen fills Rochelle’s eyes. She wipes at them, letting out a breathless guffaw of her own. “I can’t believe—it’s amazing that you pulled it off. Gods, Tevio will be so worried when he hears. Do you think there’s any way we could send him a letter that won’t give away the truth?”

“I’m sure I can figure out a reasonable cover story. Let me know how to address it, and I’ll get something sent off in the morning.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Aurelia. I’ll be the best maid you’ve ever had once I figure out how.”

I squeeze her shoulder, my own eyes prickling. “You don’t have to worry about that. Let’s focus on getting me through the rest of these trials alive so I can make good on my promise. But first, I think we could both use some sleep.” I pause. “I’m not sure where you will be sleeping from now on.”

“I know where the servants’ quarters are. I’d imagine they always have a few extra beds.” She shakes her head, the light in her eyes fading, but only for a second.

With a renewed smile, she hustles over to my wardrobe. “But first I should make sure you have the absolute best dress to keep Marclinus’s eyes on you tomorrow. Hmm. This one looked wonderful on you, but I think if we cinch it just a little more right here…”

“I trust your judgment,” I tell her honestly, and drag myself to the wash basin to prepare for my own much-needed sleep.

I wake with a hitch of my pulse, not sure what interrupted my rest. With the first blinks of my bleary eyes, I half expect to find the three princes standing around my bed again, sneering at me for humiliating my supposed friend.

All three of them might very well see me as a spoiled, selfish outsider again, but none of them have interrupted my sleep tonight. The room around me is empty.

Knitting my brow, I peer through the expansive space—and hear a faint patter from behind the nearest set of curtains.

I ease out of bed and peer behind the heavy fabric. My heart skips a beat.

A pure white dove is fluttering by the window. It glides down almost to the outer ledge, then flaps its wings to ascend higher in front of the glass pane.

The dove is one of Elox’s sacred animals. I haven’t seen one anywhere around the palace since I arrived.

Is this a sign from my godlen?

If so, it’s an insistent one. The dove flies in a wobbly circle in front of the window and then veers out into the yard. It swoops back to me and away again, as if it wants me to follow it.

I hesitate for only a second. Then I’m grabbing yesterday’s dress, not wanting to risk sullying the one Rochelle adjusted for tomorrow. Once I’ve yanked it over my head, I hurry out and through the halls to the nearest way out.

I slip around the side of the palace, peering up toward the second floor. A glimmer of white catches the moonlight above me and then dips lower. The dove sails past me and onward over the gardens.

There must be something Elox wants me to see. Something that will help me fulfill the rest of my goals here?

I hustle after the bird as quickly as I can while staying quiet. It never circles back, only flying straight ahead until its pale form disappears amid the shadows of the woods.

When I follow the dove between the trees, it takes a moment before I make out the white feathers in a streak of moonlight. The creature flutters onward, and I weave between the trees on its trail.

For a few fleeting moments, I catch a melody in the distance—notes strummed on a lute. Is Lorenzo out here practicing his new instrument this late at night?

If so, the dove isn’t leading me toward him. As I pad on through the woods, the music soon fades behind me. Then there’s nothing but the soft rustling of the leaves in the warm night breeze and the rasp of my feet over the twigs and pebbles that scatter the ground.

It’s perhaps several minutes later when the dove finally lands on a branch and stays there. I squint through the darkness, taking in the spot it’s brought me to.

One of the woods’ largest trees lies on its side, moss coating the crumbling bark. It must have fallen months if not years ago. A deeper shadow marks the ground where its roots pulled up from the earth, a steeply-sided hollow left behind. I can’t see anything else at all noteworthy about this spot compared to any other area of the palace woods.

I ease forward to take a closer look at the fallen tree—and at the corner of my eye, the dove disappears.

Not flies away, not hops behind a patch of leaves. Simply blinks out of existence in an instant.

As my head jerks toward the branch where it landed, four women step out from behind the nearby trees to form a semi-circle between me and my path back to the palace.

Fausta’s fiery hair gleams bright even in the thin moonlight. Her eyes shine equally fierce. “Look at that. The princess fell for the simplest trick of all. Some cleverness.”

As haughty as her voice is, it’s also a little ragged. I re-evaluate the porcelain pale of her skin—perhaps turned sickly not by the dim lighting but by efforts expended. The tufts of hair along her forehead droop with sweat.

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