Page 46 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
“Good. Oh, just a head’s up. The meeting is being run by Lady Damia Rhymis,” he says.
“Who?” I can scarcely keep track of all these people’s names.
“The fae soldier who nearly cut your balls off,” Sandale says, far too pleased with himself.
“Oh,” I say, reaching for my sword belt. “Fantastic.”
Lady Damia paces the cave floor, circling the tables. I have to admit she cuts a striking figure. Her long black hair, tied back in intricate braids, shines in the lamplight, and each movement she makes is as precise as it is graceful. I watch with interest as she turns on her heel so fast you’d miss it in a blink, snatching up a map from the table.
“I think it’s obvious we need someone inside the palace, someone with access who can get us in there,” she says.
“Isit obvious?” asks the male fae with yellow-blond hair sat at the table opposite me. I’ve been listening for people’s names since the meeting began, and I believe he’s called Stratton.
Damia’s green eyes flash at him before she looks to the rest of us. “Yes. I’ve not been in the palace myself, but the captain and Alastor gave me a rundown of security. We could probably access the grounds covertly, but that’s not going to cut it. To know for certain we’ll get a shot at Oclanna, we’ll need to be familiar with her routine and the level of personal security she has. Even then, the longer we can spend in the palace undetected, the better chance we have of catching a window of opportunity.”
“That’s when we can sneak some poison into her,” Stratton says cheerfully.
Damia shakes her head. “No. Too many variables.”
The blond fae looks offended. “Not when I’m in charge of the poisoning.” He turns to the rebel next to him, a pretty girl who blushes the moment he fixes his blue eyes in her direction. “It’s my sensic magic, you see. I can sneak poison into anything without her realizing it’s there. It’s very clever.” He winks, and she giggles.
I find I enjoy Lady Damia’s disgusted expression immensely.
“No dice, Stratton,” she says. “There’s no guarantee with poison. She’ll have some of the best healers on hand, and it’s possible that they’ll find a way to save her. We need something certain. Something quick and effective. No need to overcomplicate things.”
Stratton starts to argue, only for Harman to cut him off.
“Maybe you should think about how you’re going to get into the palace first before you start bickering about the precise method of murder?” he snaps. The rebel leader is in a worse mood since Her Highness and the others left for Agathyre. I chalk it up to nerves about his sister before turning my attention to Damia to see how she’ll respond.
She crosses her arms, her eyes sharp with focus.
“And yet you’re not suggesting anything specific. Strange, seeing as I assumed the Hand would have contacts everywhere.”
I enjoy even more the way the rebel leader looks a little sheepish under her stare.
“We don’t have as strong a spy network in the capital as we do around Godom and the east,” he says. “The easiest thing would be getting you covers as staff or tradespeople. The palace is likely to be busy with the coronation preparations, and extra personnel would be normal. But even those kinds of disguises will be tricky to organize without us knowing who to approach. That is, who can be trusted not to turn us in the moment we start sniffing around.”
These people are looking at this all wrong. Too meek and unambitious, that’s their problem. I sigh, and Lady Damia locks eyes with me.
“Something you’d like to contribute, Wadestaff? I didn’t invite you here to sit on your laurels and blow hot air, after all.”
“Corrin, please,” I suggest graciously, ignoring her hostility. “The fact is, staff require decent references, and you can bet the palace will check them. Tradespeople require contracts—and reputable businesses behind them to boot. Even then, you’re not going to get the opportunity you’re looking for. How close does a new maid or the palace butcher really get to the most important woman in Elmere?”
“You have a better suggestion?” she asks expectantly.
I shrug. “The palace will be crawling with staff, it’s true, but also withguests. There’ll be hundreds of noblemen and women from across the land coming to this coronation, and no one can keep track of every backwater baron or minor lord. You just need to find some remote fiefdom obscure enough that no one knows who owns it, rustle up a posh wardrobe, and invite yourselves.”
“It’s not that simple,” Harman says. “You still need a pedigree. Every nobleman has?—”
“A house seal,” I say, finishing for him. “Yes, I’m familiar.” I actually made them a requirement at one of my bawdy houses just to give the little lordlings a chance to show them off, the way they were always desperate to do. I could charge them three times my usual prices, and they’d thank me for it after I’d made them feel all special in their “exclusive” venue. “They’re ridiculously easy things to counterfeit. Why, I know half a dozen forgers in Elmere alone who have enough talent to fool a palace guard. With that and the right attitude, you’re in.”
Lady Damia’s looking at me with a glint in her eyes I don’t like at all. I get the sense I’ve just walked myself right into a web she’s woven, and she’s about to devour me.
“Great,” she says. “You can introduce us to these friends of yours when we all get to the capital.”
MORGANA
We can see it for days before we reach it, the ground gently sloping upward until it meets an impenetrable wall of green miles ahead. From someangles, it looks like the sky has been cut short, replaced by an emerald band stretching across the horizon.
