Page 55 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
Damia steps closer toward me, and for a moment, the sharp smell of paint and ink is replaced by her scent as she leans over the table to examine the parchment. It’s unusual—woody, with a hint of spice, like incense. I bend down too, studying the work on the scroll. The seal certainly looks a perfect match for the ones I’ve seen before: an intricate design of a house crest with a name woven into the floral design beneath.
“The city’s been crawling with nobles lately,” Tunier says. “They’re all coming for the coronation, of course…”
He trails off, as if expecting some response, but when Damia and I remain silent, he presses on.
“I heard about what happened in Hallowbane too, Mr. Wadestaff,” Tunier says, tutting. “Terrible business.”
“Yes,” I say, keeping my tone deliberately casual. Thinking about what happened in Hallowbane makes me want to break things—but I know better than to let my true feelings show, even in front of allies. Today’s allies could be tomorrow’s enemies, and no one is entitled to know my vulnerable spots. “It’s all been quite inconvenient. But no matter.”
“I imagine you’ll be looking for some, er,liquidityin the coming months,” Tunier continues.
I glance up at him, and the meaningful nod he gives me tells me what he’s getting at. He thinks we want this seal to rob the palace—or at least all the rich people crowding into it for the coronation. It makes more sense than good old Corrin Wadestaff turning political agitator. I smile at the artist.
“It’s true that some of the blue-blooded visitors to Elmere might’ve caught my eye,” I say, and Tunier returns my smile eagerly.
“Very clever of you, Mr. Wadestaff.”
I look back down at the seal, reading the name. “It’s excellent work, Mr. Tunier. But…Baron Hornifold?” I read the name with a touch of distaste.
He chuckles. “Not the most auspicious moniker, I agree, but he’s got some land all the way up in Artifract, and no one but the local peasants ever see him, apparently, so he’s a safe bet. All that’s left is for you to sign, and it’ll be ready to go.”
I reach down to pick up the parchment, only for a hand to dart out and catch my wrist.
“If you wouldn’t mind speaking with me for a moment upstairs,sir,” Damia says, a menacing glint in her eyes.
Tunier looks between us curiously. To avoid rousing his suspicions, I quickly murmur something in agreement, climbing the stairs back up to the empty shop.
“You’re not going to sign that seal,” Damia snaps at me the moment we’re alone.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because we need the signature of whoever’s going undercover in the palace to match that seal. And it certainly isn’t going to be you.” She paces, clearly frustrated. “That was never the plan. You were supposed to join later with the others.” She shakes her head, annoyed with herself as much as me. “I thought he wouldn’t have filled in the name yet.”
“And how was I supposed to know that?” I say. “You’ve been deliberately keeping me in the dark this whole trip.”
“Because Idon’t trust you,” she repeats slowly.
“Oh really? I had no idea.”
She ignores my sarcasm, continuing to pace.
“Seeing as the title’s male, it’ll have to be Stratton now.”
I laugh. “That preening fae? He’d try to bed every noblewoman he passes, drawing far too much attention to himself. Besides, does he even know the first thing about Trovian high society?”
“He knows a damn sight more than someone like you,” she sneers.
“I see,” I say, folding my arms. “Because I’m just some common criminal, I couldn’t possibly pass for a baron.”
“Exactly,” she says. I can’t deny her conviction stings a little.
“I’ve rubbed shoulders with more Trovian nobles in my establishments than I can count. And let me tell you,” I switch my Hallowbane twang to a clipped, upper-class accent. “It’s not all that difficult to fake some class.”
Her eyebrows rise in surprise, and I keep going. “Although I know aristocrats like you like to think you’re inherently above the rest of us, all that really separates us is some inbreeding and a pretentious voice.”
I think I see the corners of Damia’s mouth twitch in amusement, but then she’s glowering at me again, and I’m sure it was just a trick of the light.
“Alright, let’s say youcouldpull it off,” she says. “There’s no way I’m letting you walk into that palace unsupervised.”
