Page 59 of The Faceless Mage

Perhaps it was some sort of universal sign, because she instantly disappeared back into her room.

“You’d best prepare yourself, Princess,” Vaniell said, and for once, his tone was neither grating nor flippant. “It seems one of your honor guards has been caught in the act of spying and returned to Hanselm to face the king’s justice.”

No. Not Zander.

For a moment, Leisa was sorely tempted to try fainting again. And considering how fast the blood was draining from her face, it wouldn’t even be that hard to pretend.

But she had to be stronger than that. Zander had followed her orders, and now he faced death because of it. He would be counting on her to save his life.

She stared at Evaraine’s would-be fiancé and tried to see past his newly serious mien. For perhaps the first time, he met her eyes with something approaching gravity, and she wondered again why he might have given her that necklace without his father’s knowledge. What game was he playing?

“This is disturbing news,” she said slowly. An extreme understatement. “I suppose I will be expected to answer for his supposed crimes.”

Vaniell cocked his head. “Can you?”

“Do I have a choice?” Leisa met his gaze coolly. “A good monarch takes responsibility for the well-being of her subjects. And acts with honor whether or not she agrees with every decision that is made. I suppose that rule extends to espionage, as well as arranged marriages.”

For some inexplicable reason, this seemed to make him happy.

At least until her next words.

“I will need to see this person immediately. Do you know the name of the captured guard?” She had no choice but to feign ignorance. Not if she was to maintain her innocence long enough to hopefully salvage the situation.

“No,” he admitted, looking decidedly uncomfortable, “but I believe he has already been placed in the dungeon. It would not be appropriate for you to visit him there.”

She straightened her shoulders and pinned him with her sternest stare. “This man is my loyal subject and should not be treated as a criminal until I have heard proof of his crimes. To do otherwise is to spit on the sovereignty of Farhall and her people.”

“Be that as it may”—he didn’t dare disagree with her there—“the dungeon is no place for a princess.”

“Well, neither is it any place for my guard, and yet he is there anyway. I will go, even if I have to find it myself.”

Leisa didn’t give him a chance to argue, but returned to her room and dressed herself in one of Evaraine’s plainest gowns. No corset, no flounces. She didn’t even try to put up her hair, just left it flowing loose down her back. It was the middle of the night, and Zander’s life now hung in the balance, so she couldn’t care less whether anyone approved of her appearance.

Then she marched out to where Vaniell and the Raven seemed to be doing their best to ignore each other and said, “Come or don’t. I’m going.”

Vaniell hastened to take her arm, and the three of them proceeded out of her rooms, down the hall, towards the one part of the palace Leisa had never seen nor even hoped to see.

The dungeons. And she wondered, as she glanced back over her shoulder at her silent shadow, whether she would ever return from them once she entered.

Chapter 18

The Raven had a great deal to think about on their way to the dungeons.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the accusations—he did. The “princess” herself was a spy, so her guards were likely to be as well.

But what had her man been looking for? Had he found it? And what would the fake princess do now that her guard had been caught?

The Raven had almost expected her to disavow the unfortunate spy. It would certainly have been safest for her to claim that she knew nothing, and that therefore his punishment should be on his own head. But not this princess.

She cared. Deeply. He’d seen it in her thoughts before, but this moment forced him to confront the idea in a more personal way. He’d long believed humans incapable of caring for anyone beyond themselves. But this one, for whatever reason, cared about a lot of things.

She cared about her kingdom. She cared about its people as individuals. She cared whether Garimore persecuted mages. She even cared about people who weren’t human at all.

He’d learned a lot about her during the past few days, as she’d chatted to him in her head, blissfully unaware that he could actually hear her.

The fake princess was snarky, impatient, and full of scorn for her fiancé. She was stubborn, hated pretending, and actually harbored a great deal of antipathy towards her own king.

And she was terrified. Of failing. Of being found out. Even of her own magic.

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