Page 92 of A Court Bright and Broken

“So that’s a no,” said the prince. “I wouldn’t be able to get you out of there again, and you’d likely be hanged just for the ‘crime’ of escaping.”

“Not tempting. So whatisthe plan?” I asked. “You can’t hide me in your quarters forever.”

“No, certainly not.”

He looked horrified at the prospect.

“But you’ll have to stay hidden here until all of this blows over, until the culprit is captured. And she—or he—willbe.”

There was no room for doubt in his tone. “Once we have the assassin in custody, security in and around the palace will relax to normal levels—or near normal. I hope. By then your ankle will be much improved as well.”

My fingers dug into the cushion beneath me, and a ringing sound filled my ears.

“That could takeweeks.”

It was going to takeforeveractually, since the person they were looking for was sitting right here opposite him.

He nodded. “It could. Or perhaps Lady Wyn will be found within a matter of days. No one can disappear into thin air. When she’s found, we’ll either rescue her from the kidnapper—or question her and find out whether she, in fact, is the would-be assassin. Then we’ll know how to proceed. Either way, don’t worry. It has nothing to do with you. And I’ll keep you safe.”

The sincerity in his eyes and determination in his voice surprised me. Before last night, I had thought all Elves felt superior to humans and looked at us like bugs or vermin to be squashed at will.

But then Stellon was different, wasn’t he? He’d voluntarily spent time among us, disguising himself as a human peasant and going to the Rough Market to mix with the crowds.

Thinking about what he’d done for me that day—and what he was doing for me now—filled me with guilt.

Add to that the guilt I was already feeling over ever agreeing to the Earthwife’s plan, and I could barely stand to exist in my own skin.

Then there was the matter of my family. As long as Sorcha was in the dungeon, they would probably be okay. But they’d be worried about me.

And she would get out eventually—orstart talking, either under duress or voluntarily.

Worry twisted my gut into complicated knots. Stellon must have seen it on my face.

“It’s no trouble. Really,” he said. “I’m sure you don’t eat that much, and you don’t seem to snore.”

His playful tone changed to something darker. “I’m afraid I won’t be very good company, though.”

“I’m sorry again about your fiancée,” I said, feeling a bit sheepish.

He seemed to appreciate the sentiment. “Thank you. We’ll find her. Hopefully there’s a reasonable explanation for her disappearance. One that has nothing to do with assassination.”

Getting up and pacing again to the large windows, he glanced outside then turned back to face me.

“In the meantime, stay here and stay away from these windows. When the time is right, I’ll return you to your home. When the Assemblage ends in a couple of weeks, there will be a great exodus from the palace. That could be an excellent opportunity to get you out of here without notice.”

“How will it even work until then?” I asked. “Don’t the servants come in to clean and, I don’t know, dress you—and things like that?”

Stellon barked a surprised laugh.

“I can dress myself, thank you very much. Men’s attire isn’t quite as complicated as ladies’. As for the cleaning, I’ll allowthem to clean the other rooms in the suite and have them leave fresh bedsheets for me to put on myself.”

“They won’t think that’s strange?”

“They will, but I’ll claim I need privacy because I’m mourning the disappearance of my betrothed.”

His face actually did look mournful, which tweaked my heart. That was my fault as well.

“Are you?” I asked. “You only knew her for a day.”

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