Page 100 of Heir to His Court

I looked up at a knock on the door. “Enter.”

The palace seneschal stepped in. “Princess. The Captain sends word that Chevalier Juliette Faronne has been spotted on the grounds.”

I was surprised Juliette hadn’t been caught before now. I heard the words the seneschal respectfully didn’t say. I stood, coming around the desk. “Thank them for allowing me to deal with her.”

I doubted the White liked me any better now that I was their Princess—they had long memories. But they were scrupulous in the execution of their duty and would treat me with all due respect. That was all I asked; I didn’t require we all become besties.

He bowed, and I quickly left the suite. As long as I stayed on the palace grounds, Renaud shouldn’t care. Or rather, he might absolutely care, but it would only serve as a pretext for an evening’s worth of punishment.

Hmm. . .maybe I should plan and execute a little escape and let him catch me again. In Montague District, which would have the Prince deliciously enraged.

I smiled, strolling out into the courtyard and waited for my cousin to come out of hiding.

* * *

Some memories sink their claws into your consciousness and drag you intotheirpresent, confusing now and then. There is no distance; no balm of numbness earned merely from passing time. These memories cut, batter the confines of your mind, force themselves into your waking world and bleed ontoeverything.

“Aerinne. My heart, rest.”

“Nyawira. At least let us know you can hear us.”

“I’m so sorry, Rinne. I should have been there. I should have taken you away when I had the chance.”

“Get away from her.”A feminine, raspy snarl.

I push the voices away.

“Rinne!” I cower away from her voice, and simultaneously cling to it. It hisses out of the darkness of forest surrounding the white stone courtyard.

I ache, and ache, and ache, and my eyes are swollen with tears as viscous as blood.

Without missing a step, I turn and stroll in that direction, hands in the pockets of my wide-legged trousers. Raniel has been upgrading my palace casual wardrobe. They’re silky, elegant, yet highly functional and I’ve paired them with a cream silk shell—no bra, because it drives him insane. The fun insane, not the snap and kill everyone around me insane.

I find her skulking behind a tree, looking suitably—no, not guilty at all.

“What are you doing here, Juliette? The White told me to come get you or else.” I speak English on the off chance anyone listening in won’t know it.

She crosses her arms over her chest, blue eyes alight with irritation. At least she had the good sense to wear her discreet leathers and not the House armor, not that anyone is fooled, but sometimes all we require is plausible fiction.

“Let me think about that for a second, because I can'timagine. You've been locked in Princess dungeon for over a week and except for that one command performance—which was highly suspicious, by the way—nobody knows whether or not you're dead or alive?”

“Didn't you get my notes?”

“Your notes.” She holds my gaze with wide eyes and a slowly spreading smile that makes me want to step back, and shoves her hand into her pockets, yanking out two slips of paper. “Your notes. Note One. ‘I'm alive. Stay away’.”

She pauses, I assume because she wants a response. “So clearly, I was alive.”

“Note Two: ‘The food here sucks. Send wine’. . .which makes no sense if thefoodsucks.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You know the High Fae. They haven’t discovered spice yet. I was tempted to send for Aunt Fatma, but I won’t have the sister of Lord Étienne in the palace kitchens like a servant.”

Juliette drops the notes on the ground like trash. “You know she wouldn't think of it like that.”

“She's human.”

We share a grimace of understanding.

I relent, rolling my eyes. “I really don't see the problem. Did you want me to write you a sonnet? Juliette! Juliette! How do I love thee, let me count the ways!”

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