Surprised, Royce said, “You’ve always told me you were never frightened when I left on missions.”
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and a guilty expression on her face. “I lied.”
CHAPTER 3
THE COURIER
Hadrian stood in the anteroom, waiting in line to deliver the dispatch. The clerk was a short, plump, balding man with ink-stained fingers and a spare quill behind each ear. He sat behind a formidable desk, scribbling on documents and muttering to himself, unconcerned with the growing line of people.
Hadrian and Royce had ridden to Aquesta, and Hadrian had volunteered to deliver the dispatch while Royce waited at a rendezvous with horses at the ready. Although Hadrian had performed jobs for many of the nobility, few here would know him by sight. Riyria had always conducted business anonymously, working through third parties, such as Viscount Albert Winslow, who fronted the organization and preserved their anonymity. He doubted that Saldur would recognize him, but Luis Guy certainly would. As a result, Hadrian kept a clear map of the nearest exit in his head and a count of the imperial guards between him and freedom.
The seat of the New Imperial Empire was busy. Members of the palace staff hurried by, entering and exiting through the many doors around him. They ran or walked as briskly as need dictated and dignity allowed. Some turned his way, but only briefly. As he knew from experience, the degree of attention someone paid others was inversely proportional to his or her status. The lord chamberlain and high chancellor passed without a glance, while the serving steward ventured a long look, and a young page stared curiously for nearly a full minute. Although Hadrian was invisible to those at the highest levels, he was becoming uncomfortable.
This is taking too long.
Two dispatch riders reached the front of the line, quickly dropped off their satchels, and left. A city merchant was next and had come to file a complaint. This took some time, as the clerk asked numerous questions and meticulously recorded each answer.
Next came the young, plain-looking woman directly ahead of Hadrian. “Tell the chamberlain I wish an audience,” she said, stepping forward. She wore no makeup, leaving her face dull. Her hair, pulled back and drawn up in a net, did nothing to accentuate her appearance. She was pear-shaped, a feature made even more evident by her gown, which flared at the hips into a great hoop.
“The lord chamberlain is in a meeting with the regents and cannot be disturbed, Your Ladyship.”
The words were proper, but the tone was disrespectful. The inflection on ladyship sounded particularly sarcastic. The woman either did not notice or chose to ignore it.
“He’s been ducking me for over a week,” the woman said accusingly. “Something must be done. I need material for the empress’s new dress.”
“My records indicate that quite a large sum was spent on a gown for Modina recently. We’re at war and have more important appropriations to make.”
“That was for her presentation on the balcony. She can’t walk around in that. I’m talking about a day dress.”
“It was very expensive nonetheless. You don’t want to take food from our soldiers’ mouths just so the empress can have another pretty outfit, do you?”
“Another? She has two worn hand-me-downs!”
“Which is more than many of her subjects, isn’t it?”
“The empire has spent a fortune remodeling this palace. Surely it won’t break the imperial economy to buy a bit of cloth. She doesn’t need silk. Linen will do. I’ll have the seamstress—”
“I’m quite certain that if the lord chamberlain thought the empress needed another dress, he would provide one. Since he has not, she doesn’t need it. Now, Amilia,” he said brazenly, “if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
The woman’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
Footsteps echoed from behind them, and the small man’s smug expression faltered. Hadrian turned and saw the farm girl he had once known as Thrace walking up, flanked by an armed guard. Her dress was faded and frayed, just as Amilia had said, but the young woman stood tall, straight, and unabashed. She motioned to the guard to wait as she moved to the front of the line to face the clerk.
“Lady Amilia speaks with my authority. Please do as she has requested,” Thrace said.
The clerk looked confused. His bright eyes flickered nervously between the two.
Thrace continued, “I’m sure you do not wish to refuse an order from your empress, do you?”