Page 9 of The Faceless Mage

So she nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak, as she couldn’t even seem to prevent her shoulders from remaining rigid with anger and dislike. That wasn’t a skill normally expected of bodyguards, so hopefully, the wretched man was as obtuse as he was vain.

“My dear Evaraine,” the queen interjected politely, “perhaps you would wish to be shown to the suite where you will be staying while you are with us?”

Leisa offered Her Majesty a grateful smile. “I would indeed,” she replied. “I assume that my maids and ladies have already been established there?” She assumed nothing, but she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to figure out why they’d been separated.

“Ah.” The queen’s smile grew pained and apologetic. “It seems perhaps your father did not tell you. I am sorry, my dear, but in Garimore, we are very strict in matters of security. Perhaps we do go beyond what is usual, but there are many who wish to destroy what we have built here, and we must be on constant guard against their jealousy.”

Forgotten? Jealousy? What had King Soren neglected to tell her? Leisa felt a brief chill—of anger as much as fear—but didn’t allow it to reach her face.

“I do apologize,” she said instead, “but I fear I don’t understand.”

“We do not permit outsiders to bring their own servants or retainers inside the palace walls,” King Melger informed her sternly, as though reading her a lecture. “With all due respect to King Soren, too many spies have wormed their way into our palace disguised as servants or retinue for us to allow unnecessary strangers to travel our halls unquestioned. You are our valued guest, so aside from your honor guard, we will provide you with everything you require while you remain in our care.”

“It is our way,” Queen Portiana assured her, with a sweet smile that did nothing to allay Leisa’s fears. “All of our guests from outside our borders are aware of these restrictions, and none have ever come to harm while availing themselves of our hospitality.”

Almost involuntarily, Leisa glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. Why hadn’t anyone bothered to mention any of this to her? And why did the other kingdoms allow Garimore to get away with such behavior? Did they already have so much power among the Five that no one dared to tell them no?

Leisa hadn’t been in the least bit fond of any of the ladies who’d accompanied her, but now that they were gone, she realized they’d provided at least a small degree of security. Without them, she had nothing and no one. Except, apparently, for her honor guard, who couldn’t exactly accompany her to her rooms—or anywhere else for that matter, except to public functions.

“My maids can hardly be considered a security threat,” she said, wondering if the Garimorans would offer any further clues to their reasoning. “They have attended me since I was quite young, and I don’t know that I can feel quite comfortable without them.”

“Nevertheless,” King Melger replied inexorably. “This was explained in detail to King Soren, and your attendants are to be returned home in accordance with our agreement. I regret the oversight that led to you being unaware of this requirement, but it is a point of security on which I will not compromise.”

“Yes,” Prince Vaniell interjected silkily, “one never knows when some poor backwoods principality might take advantage of our insecurity with an army of serving girls.”

“I’m sure no number of serving girls could ever threaten something so great as your insecurity,” Leisa muttered under her breath, in spite of her intention not to. She decided she would very much like to shove a backwoods principality down Prince Vaniell’s painstakingly cravatted throat.

It wasn’t that she needed her maids or the princess’s ladies to complete her mission—in fact, she’d been planning to avoid them as much as possible. But this seemed to be a grave breach of royal protocol, and it had been enacted without the slightest hint of embarrassment or remorse. Not to mention with King Soren’s knowledge and approval, which was easily the most infuriating part of this entire fiasco.

Aloud, however, Leisa knew better than to voice such sentiments. Instead, she allowed her hands to flutter along with her lashes, no matter how ridiculous it made her feel. “But my own maids know my habits and my preferences,” she protested. “They keep my schedule and my medicines. I cannot imagine that anyone else will be able to manage.”

“I believe you’ll find our servants to be far better trained than anyone you have access to in Farhall,” the queen said, while offering no hint of apology or remorse for the implicit insult. “And it’s just as well that they begin to learn to anticipate your needs and preferences, given that you will likely be a permanent part of our family very soon.”

There was little for Leisa to do but lapse into stunned silence, which was apparently taken as acquiescence. She couldn’t help but wonder whether her maids or her ladies had bothered to protest their dismissal, or whether they’d known all along.

Even if they’d known what was coming, she couldn’t imagine that her honor guard had submitted tamely to being separated from her so soon after their arrival—especially given that they had so little idea what to expect from the Garimorans in the future. Zander, at least, had probably protested, and she could easily imagine Kip having gotten himself into a fight on the princess’s behalf. She hoped he hadn’t fought too hard. She needed at least one friend here, even if he believed her to be someone she was not, and if her guards all ended up being sent home in disgrace for resisting the Garimorans draconian security measures, Leisa wasn’t sure who else she could trust.

Queen Portiana beamed sunnily, seeming entirely unaware of the turmoil she’d created. “Now that everything is settled, I hope you’ll take the remainder of the afternoon to rest and refresh yourself before your grand reception this evening,” she said. “You’ll be introduced to the court and be permitted your first glimpse of the many benefits that would attend your alliance with Garimore and its extensive resources.”

Translation: now that we’ve separated you from everything familiar, we intend to overwhelm you with our wealth and dazzle you with luxuries your poor little backwoods principality can scarcely even imagine.

“I will send an experienced woman of my own to ensure that you have an appropriate gown for the evening,” the queen continued. “Our prince’s bride will be the jewel of the occasion, and we wouldn’t wish for all that attention to prove awkward due to any lack of knowledge of our customs and fashion.”

And now Evaraine was to be dressed up like a doll so she wouldn’t humiliate her popinjay of a future fiancé. This day was getting better and better. They’d evidently decided Evaraine was a clueless, wide-eyed, ignorant excuse for a princess, and now it was up to Leisa to decide whether to give them one. Play the fool, or let them know that Farhall was fully capable of standing up for herself?

“Until tonight, then?” the popinjay said, obviously eager to be anywhere but in the princess’s presence. Or perhaps it was his father he preferred to avoid. Not that it mattered—Leisa wasn’t exactly enamored of his company either.

“Until tonight,” she murmured, dipping into curtsy number forty-six, the polite farewell—slight bend in the knees, brief drop of the chin, eyes on the floor.

Perhaps she should have restrained herself, but when she straightened, she looked directly at the prince, some instinct demanding that she show him she wasn’t to be quite so easily dismissed. Sadly for her attempt at defiance, she promptly stumbled, because another man was now standing directly behind him.

A chill spread down her spine, while some nameless instinct raised the hairs on the back of her neck. For a moment, Leisa was forced to reconsider what she’d heard about King Melger’s hatred for magic—the man seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, without a sound or word to give warning of his approach.

And there was truly nowhere he could have been hiding in the brightly lit expanse of the entry hall, because this man was the opposite of brightness.

His tall, broad-shouldered form seemed to swallow the light and give back only shadows wrapped in deadly silence. He might have been carved from mountain stone, so complete was his stillness, but he didn’t need to make any threatening moves to make Leisa want to take a step back, or step anywhere really, as long as it was away from him.

She tried taking a breath and was irrationally relieved to find that she still could.

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