Page 79 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Kit walked to the windows of the gallery.

“I masked my anger with my father all my life,” he said softly. “I learned to smile as he sneered at my poetry. As he called me a hedonist and a milksop. As he cursed his lack of other heirs, and cursed my poor mother for not giving them to him.” He breathed in. “You helped me to do that, Loth. For as long as I had someone I could be myself with, I could bear to be someone else with him.”

“I know,” Loth murmured. “And I promise you that from now on, I will show my true face only to you.”

“Good.” Kit turned back to him with a smile. “Have faith, as you always do, that we will survive this. Queen Sabran is to be wed. Our exile will not be long.” He clapped Loth on the shoulder. “In the meantime, let me find us some supper.”

They parted ways. Only when Loth had secured the door to his chamber did he look at the scrap of parchment Priessa Yelarigas had pressed into his hand.

The Privy Sanctuary at three of the clock.

The door is beside the library. Come alone.

The Privy Sanctuary. Now the House of Vetalda had abandoned the Six Virtues, it would have been left to gather dust.

This could be a trap. Perhaps Prince Wilstan had received a note like this before he disappeared.

Loth ran his palms over his head. The Knight of Courage was with him. He would see what Lady Priessa had to say.

Kit returned at eleven that night with lamb drenched in wine, a block of spiced cheese, and plaits of olive bread with garlic. They sat on the balcony to eat while the torches of Cárscaro flickered below.

“What I would not pay for a food-taster,” Loth said, picking through the meal.

“Tastes superb to me,” Kit said, his mouth full of oil-dipped bread. He wiped his mouth. “Now, we must assume that Prince Wilstan is not sunning himself in Córvugar. Nobody with a wit goes to Córvugar. Nothing there but graves and crows.”

“You think His Grace is dead?”

“I fear it.”

“We must know for certain.” Loth glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “Lady Priessa passed me a note during the dance, asking me to meet her tonight. Perhaps she has something to tell me.”

“Or perhaps she has a dagger, and means to introduce it to your back.” Kit raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You’re notgoing, are you?”

“Unless you have any other leads, I must. And before you ask, she stipulated that I must go alone.”

Kit grimaced and drank. “The Knight of Courage has lent you his sword, my friend.”

Somewhere in the mountains, a wyvern screamed a war cry. A deathly chill scraped through Loth.

“So,” Kit said, and cleared his throat, “Aubrecht Lievelyn. The former betrothed of our wyrm-headed Donmata.”

“Aye.” Loth gazed at the starless firmament. “Lievelyn seems a respectable choice. From what I’ve heard, he is kind and virtuous. He will make Sab a fine companion.”

“Doubtless, but now she will have to marry him without her dearest friend beside her.”

Loth nodded, lost in memory. He and Sabran had always promised that when they wed, they would give each other away. That he would miss the ceremony was the final twist of the knife.

Seeing his face, Kit let out a theatrical sigh. “Pity us both,” he said. “I made a solemn promise to myself that if Queen Sabran ever married, I would ask Kate Withy to dance with me and unmask myself as the man who has been sending her lovelorn poems these past three years. Now I shall never discover if I have the mettle.”

Loth allowed Kit to distract him while they finished their supper. Fortunate indeed that his friend had come with him on this journey, or he would have gone mad by now.

At midnight, the palace grew quiet as the Yscals began to retire. Kit returned to his chamber after exacting a promise that Loth would knock on his door on his return from meeting the lady.

A bell tolled somewhere in Cárscaro every hour. Close to three of the clock, Loth rose and slid his baselard into the sheath at his side. He took a red-flamed candle from one of the holders and left the colonnade.

The Library of Isalarico formed the heart of the Palace of Salvation. As Loth walked toward its doors, he almost missed the corridor on his left. He approached the door at its end, found the key in its lock, and stepped into the darkness of the Privy Sanctuary.

The glow from his candle flickered on a vaulted ceiling. Prayer books and broken statues were strewn across the floor. A portrait of Queen Rosarian was among the ruins, the face knifed almost beyond recognition. All evidence of Virtudom had been stashed in here and locked away.

---