Page 50 of The Uncrowned Prince

“Understood.” As they continued to wait quietly beneath the branches, Vaniell drew the unsavory artifact from a deep pocket, weighing it in his hands as he awaited the right moment.

He’d never intended to use it. When the man he’d called “Father” had brought him the spelled armor and insisted he make it work, he’d removed the collar and hidden it away as soon as he realized what it did. Told his blackmailer that the piece had broken, and he could no longer decipher its purpose. The armor and its accompanying mask were bad enough without rendering its wearer invisible.

And now… he could only hope he was making the right decision—to use something terrible for the greater good. If only he could be certain thiswasthe greater good. That he wasn’t doing it for himself alone. He drew comfort from the knowledge that he stood to gain nothing from the attempt—nothing except greater danger. He had no idea how long his magic could endure, nor what would happen if he overextended himself. He’d always been too careful. Too wary of leaving himself unprotected in a hostile environment.

At least now he had Karreya. And for whatever reason, he trusted her not to leave him if he should collapse.

A pair of Irian guards strode towards them across the grass, heads turning in unison to look opposite directions. Vaniell tensed as they peered into the shadows beneath the trees, but Karreya made no attempt to hide. She simply remained motionless as they passed, shoulders low and relaxed, even as Vaniell held his breath in anticipation of discovery.

When the two disappeared around the corner of the palace, he let out the breath slowly, trying not to make any unnecessary noise.

“You have nerves of steel,” he noted quietly.

“The guards are poorly trained simpletons,” she responded tartly. “They come directly from the well-lit garden paths and do not protect their night vision. They could not see into these shadows if they tried.”

Experienced as he was at chicanery, he had not considered that.

“It’s time,” Karreya said in a low voice, so he wrapped the collar around his neck and tried not to flinch as he fastened the catch.

He hated the cold weight of it against his skin. Hated the memories of what he’d done with the rest of that armor. But if it could give him a chance to atone…

Shutting his eyes, he reached out with his magic, sliding it across the nearly invisible etchings on the surface of the collar. The trick was to not commit too much. Only give it exactly the amount it needed. An enchantment like this one was not meant to be activated by the one wearing it—it was too hungry, and once it established a connection, it would take and take until the mage in its power had nothing left.

Like molten metal flowing through a mold, his magic spread through the etchings, filling them and bringing them to life. Oh, not visibly, but he could feel the enchantment awakening. Taking hold. And for the space of a few breaths, he was forced to exert his will to bring it to heel and contain its hunger for more.

Opening his eyes, he turned to Karreya, and knew it had worked. There was a slight sense of unease to the way she was scanning the place where he stood, and a puzzled tilt to her brows.

“How will I know where you are?”

“I told you,” he said softly. “You’ll just have to hold my hand.”

She froze, silent and wary for the space of three breaths. Would she agree? Would she take him seriously or simply decide to listen for his bumbling footsteps instead?

“No time for arguing with idiots,” she muttered, and to Vaniell’s complete surprise, held out her hand. At first it was clenched into a fist, but her fingers gradually uncurled, one by one, almost reluctantly, as if by doing so they revealed some deeply held vulnerability in her open palm.

His breath caught as she stood there, waiting, and his heart took flight as he reached out to accept what she offered.

He moved slowly so she would not be startled, sliding his fingers across her palm, noting the scars and the calluses, then grasping her hand lightly. As if to reassure her that she could pull away if she wanted to.

But she did not pull away. Her fingers curled around the backs of his, and for a moment he just stared down at where their hands joined, only one visible, but the warmth of her touch imprinted on every part of his being.

“Follow me,” she said. “And make no noise.”

Even if he were the most skilled spy in all of Abreia, he was sure no one could help hearing the sound of his heart. But somehow he simply followed her across the grass, stepping carefully in her wake as she returned to the more crowded, brightly lit areas of the garden.

The moment she entered the light, her chin dropped to her chest and her demeanor changed utterly. In the blink of an eye, she became a uniformed servant, eyes downcast, steps brisk and purposeful. When he followed her through the portico doors and into the reception hall, she picked up a tray with her other hand, holding it under her arm and keeping the hand that held his tucked close to her side.

No one stopped her. No one even seemed to see her. They cut through the crowd like a knife, reaching the other side of the hall in a matter of moments, after which Karreya set her back to the wall, mimicking the pose of several other servants who seemed to be waiting for a need to arise.

“Are the people you wish to observe still in the room?” she asked in a low voice, her lips barely moving.

They were. It took only a few moments for him to pick out the bull-like shape of Lord Grendish, King Melger’s favorite political weapon. He was as much guard dog as envoy, but unfortunately, possessed a reasonable degree of natural shrewdness. He was talented at pressuring weak opponents, but not terribly skilled at manipulation when the two sides were relatively equal.

His presence was an embarrassingly blatant statement of how Melger viewed his Irian “allies,” though Vaniell did not expect anyone else in the room to grasp the intent.

“The wall-shaped fellow with the gray beard, red-lined cloak,” he murmured in Karreya’s ear. “When he leaves, we follow.”

“How long can you hold the enchantment?”

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