Page 37 of The Uncrowned Prince

Oh. Right. He’d carried her back to the warehouse. And carried Petrin to Emmerick’s.

“Aberrations, I assure you.”

Her eyes shifted to meet his. She seemed to have forgotten that her hand still rested on his leg, and for a handful of breaths, neither of them pulled away. Her lips parted. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened just a fraction.

Then, suddenly, she was standing on the opposite side of the room. She’d moved so quickly, he’d barely had time to register the motion before she was much too far away. Quite pointedlynotlooking at him any longer.

“Is there anything further I can do to assist you?” Her voice was cool, her back stiff.

“Well, I will need a new shirt,” he pointed out, trying to sound as plaintive as possible. “And I don’t know if I will be able to get it on without help.”

“Use a blanket or a robe,” she replied mercilessly. “As nothing is broken, it will not harm you irreparably to move your arms.”

Ah, well, it had been worth a try.

“If that is all, I will return in the morning. We will attempt the market again?”

Vaniell sobered immediately.

“Have you found somewhere to sleep?” he asked instead. “I know I’m not the most restful person to be around, but I swear you would never come to harm at my hand. If you need a safe place, you’re welcome to stay.”

“I do not sleep well while confined. But I thank you.”

When it seemed she had no more to say, Vaniell sighed and rose carefully to his feet. “Then yes, we will head for the market again in the morning. And if Senaya is still absent, I will ask some questions and see if we can discover where she lives. If you wish…”

But by then he was talking to empty air, and there was no sound but the rustling of his curtain falling back into place.

“Sleep well,” he said softly, and then spent the next ten minutes or so cursing himself for a fool.

* * *

The following morning, he was moving decidedly slower, and his typical routine was accompanied by a great deal more swearing than usual. The bruise was even darker than it had been the night before, and he reminded himself sternly that next time, he should give serious consideration to just running away.

But at least today he would be seeing Karreya again, a thought that filled him with more cheer than their errand probably warranted. Indeed, more than the general state of affairs across Abreia allowed for.

Iria’s government was stable enough to survive the loss of her monarch, but the blow not only weakened them, it would sow fear and anxiety throughout the other four Thrones once they learned of the nature of the king’s death. If the others believed the assassination was the work of imperial agents, they would be all too quick to assume that war was coming, and that the Empress of Zulle intended to claim these lands for herself.

If true, it was a death knell for Abreian independence.

But Karreya believed it was a ruse, and the now-dead government official had seemed to agree.

He sent you…He’s going to kill us all and there’s nothing we can do.

Not an empress, but a man…

If only Vaniell didn’t know all too well who that man was likely to be.

He’d received little news from the Garimoran court over the past few months—not since they’d made that very public disavowal of Danric, just after the former heir had announced his marriage. But news or not, the imposter king was up tosomething, and Vaniell had a strong sense of foreboding that Trevelian’s death was only the beginning.

As he crossed the outer room of the warehouse, he eyed his traps and wondered if it wasn’t time to reset them again. The work required a considerable amount of energy, so perhaps he should deal with it today, before his strength was needed for whatever fresh horrors Garimore had planned.

The messages from yesterday still lurked in the back of his mind, haunting him with his failures, but there was always more to do. Always someone else to save, more answers to find. He could not afford to mope, or others would pay the price.

The weather, at least, was warm and sunny, which lifted Vaniell’s spirits a bit as he stepped into the street and locked the door, wondering how and when Karreya would find him.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he was rifling through his assorted enchantments when she dropped silently down from the roof and landed in a crouch in front of him.

“Sweet mother of Abreia,” he muttered, heart pounding as she straightened her knees, looking as if she’d done nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary. “A little warning would be nice. Or do you just enjoy taking years off my life?”

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