Page 25 of The War Queen's Daughter

“My apologies, highness.” She’s near to tears now, hands shaking. “I merely meant to serve.”

I wave off her emotional response, but relent. “See to it that they’re in my quarters before dark,” I say. And drop the matter.

She does as she’s told, my armor arriving shortly after I return to my quarters, and I have to admit as I examine the full set and boots alike that the now gleaming surface appears unharmed and, in fact, well-tended. Whoever handled it did so with care and precision, even my boots restored, the crack I knew I’d need to address in the left heel not just mended but replaced entirely with a new sole.

Resentfully pleased by the result, I must remind myself to thank the girl and even ask her name when I see her again. For now, it’s time to ready for yet another dinner with the princesses who hate me as the cloudy afternoon turns to evening. There’s been no word from Amber, no hint that her plan to encourage a private meeting with the Overprince is working as intended, and I’m already making my own plans to simply ambush him as I chew aggressively over the plate I’ve filled without looking up.

The other daughters of kings and queens partake, no Altar to make them wait. If there’s a schedule to his appearances, I’m not privy to it. By the time I slam my door behind me, frustrated and impatient at the loss of the day, the sun is well set, and I’m ready to discard this dress for my armor and go prowling for the prince.

I unwind my hair from the braids that confine it, shaking it out around my shoulders, my scalp grateful for the tension’s easing. My fingers massage until I sigh, the moment enough to relax me into some semblance of patience.

A soft knock sounds on my door before I can decide what to do next, and I’m answering it, confronting my visitor with a scowl at being interrupted in my welcome moment of solitude and calm. The young servant girl stands there, her eyes wide with fear unchecked. She is trembling, holding a small, folded piece of parchment.

“Highness,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, though she’s brave enough to peek past me at the armor now lying on the bed. “All is well with your belongings?”

I nod. “My thanks,” I say, though without softness. It won’t do for her to think me kind. “Your name, child.”

She’s visibly startled that I care to ask. “I am Bele,” she says.

“Bele.” I hold up the parchment without reading it, though I see the fine script, handwriting scrolling and educated.

She responds quickly to my gesture that’s been made a question. “The… the Overprince. Sends for you. He says… please come with me.”

Amber was definitely right. I don’t smile, but it’s a close thing. Because while the child believes what she says, the possibility remains that this is, instead, a trap, and I’m about to walk into an attempt on my life.

My sword can’t come with me. But the dagger in my boot and the blade down my back will be sufficient if need be.

I really need that seamstress.

“Lead the way,” I say.

The princesses know I’m leaving, a few openly staring as I go, though whether at my long, loose hair or the guide I have before me, I don’t know or care. It’s odd to me, though, that they’re curious rather than concerned, and it’s not until I reach the exit to the main Citadel that I laugh out loud, startling Bele.

“Highness?” She looks up at me as I chuckle and shake my head.

“A clever fellow, the Overprince,” I say, winking at her. She flutters a smile. “Carry on, Bele.”

She does, confused and for good reason, though I’m not any longer. He’s not sent one of his own servants to fetch me, or anyone associated with him. He’s instead chosen the bath girl, the last person who should be guiding me to a meeting with Altar. Smart and strategic, and has me wondering about him atlast. Not just as a target, a means to an end. As a person. Who is he to know caution is so important?

I will not underestimate him but give him his due respect for that move. My leaps of assumption will not serve me, and everyone I encounter must be handled the same way.

An excellent lesson. But is he protecting me? Or himself?

I’m surprised to find I’m looking forward to finding out.

It’s a quiet journey as I follow the trembling servant girl through the maze of palace corridors, each step carrying me further into the belly of the Citadel. We’re going the opposite direction that I took the night before on my quest to track the two rogues. Thinking of them has me wondering again about the hulking drakonkin, but even more so about his handsome friend, Zenthris.

Thinking carnal thoughts of another man while I venture to speak to the one that I’m going to marry might not be ideal, but I accept that circumstance and allow it rather than fighting against it.

The palace is still active after dinner, though as we pass out of the main traffic areas and into the private suites, a hush falls. Even more so as we climb a tower, this one clearly in common use, no scent of dust, but that endless bombardment of flowers a constant.

I think I can navigate the layout of this tower compared to the one I’ve already explored, and am unsurprised when Bele stops outside a doorway and bows to me before scurrying away again.

Should I give warning? Call out? I hesitate and then seize on the advice Amber gave me. Be myself.

I do not knock. Head high, the weight of my long hair around me like a cloak, I push my way inside.

Chapter 15

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