Page 58 of The Uncrowned Prince

“Fortunately,” Senaya said in a low voice, “I recall very well the days when I was foolish enough to end up in a predicament like this.”

Niell surveyed her with a slightly raised eyebrow, his gray eyes assessing the newcomer with cool deliberation. “Do you know her, Karreya?”

Karreya felt like hissing in frustration. “Whatever you are doing here, go and do it, and leave us in peace.”

But Senaya only smiled, an expression of infuriating serenity. “Do you wish for the both of you to leave the palace grounds unharmed? Then hold him still.”

She reached within her robes and produced a small silver box from some hidden pocket. “One moment.”

She flicked the box open, and Karreya choked back a snarl as it unfolded into a curved, oddly shaped mirror. This was not only a terrible idea, it was the worst idea, but there was not enough time to stop her, and certainly no way to explain.

Senaya held the shimmering surface in front of Niell and tilted her head. Her expression turned distant and hazy, and a moment later…

Niell’s arm was still draped across Karreya’s shoulders, but he was gazing at Senaya with eyes gone sharp and glittery. She could see the tension in his jaw, feel it in his shoulders, and she could not fault his reaction because… Senaya had changed him.

Oh, it was still Niell, but instead of his worn black coat and boots, he wore a long, draping blue tunic with a black sash. His boots shone and his tasseled belt held no fewer than six knots in alternating purple and red—the very image of a high-ranking noble son of a wealthy Irian house.

Senaya stepped back, eyed him from head to toe, and gave a single, satisfied nod as the box disappeared into her robes again.

“There. It’s not perfect—I had to leave room for all those incredibly interesting pockets—but it will fool the casual observer.” Her head tilted, and she regarded Niell out of sharply curious dark eyes, as if daring him to explain. To question. To protest.

In the end, he said only one word, uttered through clenched teeth as if to hold back every doubt, every feeling that raged and boiled within him.

“Senaya.” The statement left no room for doubt—whether by intuition or the sound of her voice, he knew.

“Very good.” The older woman’s eyes narrowed with speculation as she stared back at him. “It seems you are not a fool after all, though you play one rather convincingly.”

Karreya’s jaw clenched in anticipation of the questions she knew were forthcoming. Questions she did not want him to ask. Questions she most certainly did not want to answer. Senaya had demanded her silence, but how could she deny Niell the truth after this?

“Why are you here? Why would you help us?” Niell’s voice was icy.

“Because,” Senaya replied, “I chose to. But I will answer no more questions until we are away from here.”

And before Karreya could stop her, she let out a strange, high-pitched laugh and tugged them all out of the shrubbery—directly into the path of three oncoming guardsmen.

“This area is now off limits,” one of them growled, his beard bristling with hostility. “All guests must return to the reception hall at once.”

He eyed them suspiciously, and Karreya could not blame him. A wealthy nobleman staggering through the courtyard with his arm around a servant, accompanied by a fashionable young woman? It reeked of scandal.

“How did you come to be here in the first place?”

Senaya simply laughed again, as if the guard’s words were a perfectly delightful joke. “My brother here”—she indicated Niell with a wave of her ringed hand—“is an absolute wastrel, and wandered off from the reception before the dancing started. It appears he was already quite drunk, and managed to get himself lost.”

Niell apparently decided to set aside his fury and suspicion long enough to play his part.

“Not looost,” he slurred loudly. “I was looking for the privy.” He raised his voice again, this time to an intoxicated yell. “Has anyone seen the privy?” His head lifted, and he pointed with one wavering finger at the closest guard. “You must know where it is. Show me. Take me with you. Don’t let these…womendrag me away from this party before I’ve had any fun.”

He was almost alarmingly convincing. As if he had seen—or done—such a thing before. But what could the charmingly rakish and entirely too soft-hearted Niell have in common with a drunk and entitled nobleman?

The guards began to look disgusted, and their leader rolled his eyes at Karreya as if in sympathy before waving them on.

“Just get him out of here. And either keep him in the reception hall, or send him home. We’ve important guests tonight, and they oughtn’t be troubled with his drunken howling.”

“Howling?” Niell protested, his head rolling to the side as one eyebrow crept up. “I was nothowling. But I can sing.” His sudden grin was sharp and blinding. “Who wants to hear me sing?”

He did not wait for an answer, but burst into a raucous chorus from some incredibly inappropriate drinking song.

If they survived this, Karreya was going to kill him.

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