Page 105 of Ember Eternal
I snorted. “Why would he be jealous of Savaadh?”
For a moment, she stared at me. “Fox.”
“What?”
“Did the Aether rattle your brain? You’re uncurious about why a prince invited you to a ball, provided a dress, danced with you in front of everyone, and got jealous when another prince expressed interest?”
“He feels guilty that I got hurt, and he still needs me to help him.”
She gave me the look.
I shook my head, and my palms felt sweaty. “It can’t be anything else, Wren. There’s no point in it being anything else.”
And I had to keep reminding myself of that, because I feared that the wall I’d built was too fragile to survive him. His kindness. His smile. His body.
I shook my head and looked away. “And he knows Savaadh wasn’t being serious.”
“It doesn’t matter. Savaadh isn’t a Lys’Careth, so Savaadh has more freedom than the prince ever will, even if it’s merely a flirtation.”
Not the first time he’s regretted being a Lys’Careth,I thought, considering his scars.
“He’s no victim, Fox. The least powerful of princes is still a prince. And that’s leagues more powerful than the rest of us.”
The Lady decided she’d seen enough and demanded that Wren accompany her back to the manor.
“Never know what ruffians one might encounter along the way,” she’d said.
Wren and I had exchanged a look that confirmed we were thinking the same thing: The Lady didn’t want Wren coming between me and whatever escapades she hoped I’d get into with the prince.
Unfortunately for her, the prince was still angry. He hadn’t even looked my way since he’d returned to the ballroom, and he’d danced with one partner after another. After the fifth, I left again.
Because his anger was no fault of mine, I decided this was the perfect time to find the treasury. I wouldn’t take anything; I didn’t even need to step foot inside. But finding it, in addition to being extremely satisfying, was a small rebellion that felt necessary. A reminder that we weren’t really friends—and certainly couldn’t be anything else. He’d kicked at my wall tonight, so I’d add another course of bricks.
I was still me, even in a gown, in a palace, behind a wall.
I slipped out the back door while he was dancing and walked in the opposite direction of my room. There were more soldiers stationed at corners and stairways, but more people for them to watch, too. Sneaking about was always easier in a crowd.
I reached the dome, where dozens of people mingled and admired the architecture and mosaics. I paused at the threshold, watching the interactions. I wouldn’t take coins from the prince’s guests. But there were other ways to steal. With a smile, I walked through the room, nipping a bit of silver from a woman’s fancy chatelaine. I dropped it onto the floor in front of the man she’d been not-so-discreetly admiring from a few strides away. Now they had something to talk about.
I found a dark passageway past the dome and moved silently into it, checking doors until I found one that was unlocked. I opened it and found a storeroom. Stacks of linens tied with ribbon, vases, candelabras, baskets full of beeswax candles. Neat bundles of firewood were tied with twine in baskets on the floor, ready for hauling to rooms that needed them. I smiled and closed the door again. Talia had gotten this room in perfect order, at least.
I walked a little way farther, ducking back into an alcove as a guard on patrol passed by. When the hallway was silent again, I opened another door. Candles were already lit, and the room smelled faintly of smoke and leather. I walked inside, pulled the door closed behind me.
Like the ballroom, this chamber was long and rectangular. There were chairs and benches along the sides and a long rug in the middle, and the far end held a simple wooden throne. There were windows on the long wall that faced the door. The opposite wall held an enormous stone hearth surrounded by glowering animal heads mounted on wooden plaques. Boars, bears,deer, angry-looking rodents, and birds I’d never seen before. No foxes, for which I was grateful. Weapons and shields hung among the animal heads, maybe the tools used to capture the prey.
This was exactly how I’d have pictured a room in a Lys’Careth palace—large and stocked with trophies to their potency. It must have been some sort of room for the resident prince and his friends or counselors to gather after a hunt, to discuss Serious Matters involving the stronghold. There might have been liquors and pipes, or courtesans to help them celebrate their victories. I couldn’t really see the current prince in this room. Not that it was my business.
I walked, footsteps silent on the thick rug, to the map of Carethia that hung behind the throne. The City of Flowers sat in the center. Each of the four gates was marked with blossoms—with a mountain lily for the Western Gate, of course. There was so much of the nation to see. So much of the stronghold to guard from the Aetheric practitioner.
Something clanked behind me, like a heavy object hitting the floor. I turned back and saw nothing but billowing velvet curtains at the other end of the room. Had someone opened a window? Or had the window already been open and admitted a visitor?
I walked to the hearth, picked up the iron poker that waited beside it, and crept back toward the window. Something pushed at the curtain from the window side, and I raised the poker.
“You’re in the royal palace, and I’m armed. So if you’ve snuck in to attack the prince, you’d better just give up.”
There was a muffled sound, and then another punch at the curtain. I stuck the poker into it. “Reveal yourself!”
“Oof,” said the deep voice on the other side.
