Page 48 of The Uncrowned Prince

Even after the assassination of their king, the Irian royal guards remained hopelessly out of their depth in matters of security.

Karreya found her way into the palace by moonrise and spent the remainder of the night mapping its grounds and taking note of potential entrances and exits. She timed the guard patrols, then located the chambers where the Garimoran ambassador and his retinue were being housed.

The temperate climate meant most homes were both heated by the sun and cooled by the breeze, so windows were not always employed. It was simple to drop from the roof to the open balcony and prowl silently around the public areas of those apartments, looking for anything that might hint at the ambassador’s errand.

But whatever his ambitions might be, his habits were neat and left nothing to chance. While he was not as careful with his personal security—his only guards were posted in his bedchamber and the corridor outside the door—any secrets he was carrying remained well-hidden.

Next she went looking for any other important visitors, but the majority of guest apartments were left empty. Those that were occupied held female nobility of lower standing, who did not even seem to merit the dignity of guards.

Karreya left the palace grounds shortly before dawn, and sought out her usual sleeping place, taking a few hours of rest before waking and considering the best course of action.

After she met Niell, she would likely not have any further opportunities to search for her father. It would require all of her attention just to keep the nonsensical Abreian alive. But to complete her own errand, she would need to be closer to the action. Able to look into the eyes of the dignitaries and visitors alike.

She really had no choice but to attend the reception. And not tell Niell until it was far too late for him to object.

Somehow, she avoided thinking about him more than a half dozen times during the course of the afternoon. Instead, she acquired food—leaving an embarrassing wealth of imperial gold in payment—ate alone near the docks while watching the ships enter and leave the harbor, and then stashed most of her weapons in a safe place before returning to the palace.

Sneaking in through the kitchens was almost embarrassingly easy, just as Niell had suggested. She simply snagged a crate of cherimoyas off the back of a cart before joining the endless parade of merchants delivering foodstuffs to the tradesmen’s entrance. Once inside, she took a kitchen worker’s blue apron off a peg outside the privy. The apron allowed her passage through the kitchen and into the laundry, where she traded the apron for a lighter blue tunic and dark trousers that fit over her own clothes. Once her hair was neatly tucked away and all her daggers hidden, she then spent the next few hours observing the preparations for the reception.

There was a steady stream of servants moving in and out of the reception hall, cleaning and carrying and polishing every possible surface. Mingling with their number was simple as long as she kept moving—hiding her face behind a stack of linens, an enormous flower arrangement, and even a tray filled with empty wine glasses.

In many ways, it was easier to be invisible in a place that was already filled with people. No one looked at a servant, particularly one who appeared to know exactly where she was going and what she was doing. No one would see her unless she made a mistake, and she did not intend to make any mistakes.

Eventually, the palace stewards seemed satisfied that all was in readiness, and the musicians began to play softly in the background. All of the other blue tunics in the room fell in line in the direction of the kitchen, so Karreya joined them, collecting a tray of seaweed wrapped abalone before making her way back to the reception hall.

The guests had begun to enter, and Karreya found it was the perfect opportunity to move among them, offering her tray full of delicacies with a polite bow, never quite meeting the eyes of those she served.

But as she flowed through the crowd, she was observing other faces, listening to accents, watching for anyone who appeared out of place. Anything that was obviously a lie. Any sign that her father may have found his way to a position close to the Irian throne.

She did not bother listening to every word of the conversations swirling around her—those that she overheard were principally composed of untruths—but the Garimoran ambassador seemed even less truthful than most. He was a tall, thickset man in his early fifties with gray hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a near-perpetual scowl. Both his speech and his motions seemed slow and deliberate, and his mouth was set to droop in an approximation of mourning as he spoke of condolence. And yet, to Karreya’s senses, he screamed alert, focus, danger.

Everything about him offended Karreya’s magic, to the point that her eyes kept darting away every time she glanced in his direction.

She was drifting through the crowd, keeping a close eye on any newcomers—as well as the darkening sky—when someone else caught her attention.

It was a woman, wearing the same black sash of mourning as the other guests over the loose, colorful gown typical of Irian nobility. Her hair and eyes were dark, and her nails were elaborately lacquered. Jewels dripped from her neck and ears, and golden leather sandals were strapped to her feet. In all the important ways, she blended in with every other woman in the room—almost too much so, to Karreya’s eye.

But even without those surface trappings, Karreya would have known that something was wrong, because the woman had two faces—the one everyone else in the room could see, and one just beneath it.

The young, dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty was a lie.

Her true face was that of an older woman with graying brown hair and golden-brown eyes.

A face Karreya had committed to memory only the previous morning.

Her eyes locked with Senaya’s for one endless moment, and the older woman’s face tightened. Was it mere recognition? Or was it fear? Karreya knew her own face gave no hint of her feelings, so she simply turned away into the crowd, anger seething beneath her skin.

Senaya claimed to have forsworn her magic. To have left that life behind. And it had not been a lie, unless she possessed hidden mind powers as well as her ancestral magic.

She’d also claimed not to care. Insisted that she’d paid a high enough price and would not involve herself in the search for her brother.

So why was she here? Why did she hide her face? And what would she do now that she’d recognized Karreya?

But there was no time to question her. Already the light was gone. The night sky was studded with stars, and Karreya was no closer to answers. Her father was not among this glittering throng, and she had promised to meet Niell an hour after sunset.

After returning her tray to the kitchen, Karreya mumbled something about the privy before drifting out into the garden, easily avoiding the small knots of more adventurous guests who ambled along the paths of smoothly fitted stone, admiring the extensive beds of fragrant flowers.

The paths themselves were lit by torches and fanciful iron lamps, providing a romantic and somewhat less crowded atmosphere for conversation. But the space beyond those paths was mostly given over to thick, well-trimmed grass, studded by fountains and an occasional topiary. Few guests wandered that far, as it was poorly lit at night, and there were no well-tended walkways to accommodate the fragile, lightly heeled sandals favored by Irian noblewomen.

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