A burst of sour slides up my throat. I slip one of my blades into my ankle sheath before handing her the letter for King Sedric and, keeping the other blade tucked into my dress skirt, nod. “Then let’s go.”
Before I can move she grabs my arm and lowers her voice. “I still think this is a bad idea.”
I narrow my gaze and glance down the hall toward Draewulf. And bite back the remark that I don’t care what she thinks right now. We have to go.
She sighs. “But seeing that you’re obviously set on it, first make me a promise.”
I raise a brow.
“I’ve decided to agree with you regarding the politics of exposing Draewulf on Faelen soil. And I believe that if we can make it to Bron, it’d be wiser to do it there, in front of his council, especially considering he’s just offed their King Odion. However . . .” She stops and waits until I look at her. “You have to promise me that you won’t get caught, and the moment anything goes wrong, you won’t even hesitate to do what needs to be done.”
Is that it? I give her a sharp nod. Fine.
“Nor will you stop me if I decide to do so.” She waits for me to nod again before slipping off the cloak she’s wearing. “I’ve figured out where to hide you on the ship, but we need to disguise you as my maid-in-waiting to—”
“That won’t work. They’ll investigate and as soon as they see my hair, they’ll recognize me.”
She curls her lips wryly at me. “Which is why I still think this is a terrible idea. Perhaps—”
“I’m going,” I interrupt, watching Eogan and his entourage disappear from the far end of the hallway. “And I have a better idea.”
Rasha raises a brow before she nods and looks to her men. “You two guards follow Eogan. You other three come with us.”
We’ve gone down three corridors when I tell her men, “It’d be best if you stay here.”
Rasha tips her chin at them just as we reach the door we’re to go through. I shove it open when a voice rings out, “May I help you, miss?”
Litches.
I stall. Turn. Tannin.
He looks at Rasha’s men, at her, and then at the door I’m holding ajar.
“I was heading up to grab a cloak,” I say.
His smile falters. He stares at the gilded wood behind my head as if he can see around it and is quite aware that this direction leads nowhere near our rooms, let alone my wardrobe. “Would you like me to get it for you, miss? Afterward I’d be glad to escort you to King Sedric. I believe the waltz is about to be played.”
“Thank you, but—”
“I think I’m in need of some fresh air,” Rasha says.
“Then allow me to—”
I wave him off. “The princess and I just need a few minutes for . . . woman issues.”
A blush blooms on his cheeks, and before he can say anything further, I flip around and push through the door to rush with Rasha up a flight of candlelit stairs, vaguely aware that her guards have settled into place to prevent Tannin from following.
It’s black as hulls and freezing when she and I step outside the palace door onto the Northern Wing’s upper courtyard. The place has been converted into some type of platform for the airship, and the few torches lining the far wall flicker through the fog. Their light glints off the giant metallic ship floating in front of us—or at least the underside of it, which is the only part visible since the makeshift scaffolding rising up in front of us is stretched out to surround the entire top portion. On the ground nearby, a ribbed-looking base for holding the ship has been slid away, allowing the hull to float a good five feet off the ground. Large ropes tether it in place, but even so it lists toward us and the scaffold.
“Your quarters have already been assigned?” I whisper.
“Yes, but—”
“On which side are they?”
“This one,” she murmurs. “Four stories up on the deck level. But I don’t think—”
“So just above that window there?” I count four perpendicular windows and point at the topmost one that sits just beneath the spiraling planks hiding our view of the ship’s upper portion.
“Nym.” Her tone sparks uneasy. “I really think we should wait until Eogan’s boarded the ship and then try to—”
A man’s voice breaks through the fog. “King Eogan and the rest of his men, Captain.”
I peer up at the scaffold rising in front of us and listen to the tromping feet cross it. Squinting down, I eye the two beams closest to us with a crossplank at the bottom. They’re higher up than I’d counted on. “I’m going to need a boost.”
“Are you insane?” Rasha grabs my shoulder and pulls me around. Her brown hair and face loom toward me in the dark. “You’re going to climb?”
“They won’t believe I’m your maid. They’ll see my face beneath that cloak, and the minute they do . . .”
There’s a clatter above our heads, then another from an alcove in the torch-lit wall opposite the courtyard where we’re tucked into the shadow. A whistle from up top and then the soldiers’ voices are talking over each other, muffled by boots along the ramps. “Your Majesty, this way,” someone shouts.