The scribe lowered his voice, but his irritation still carried as he addressed Amilia. “If you think I’m going to kneel before your trained dog, you’re mistaken. She’s as insane as rumored. I’m not as ignorant as the castle staff, and I’m not going to be toyed with by common trash. Get out of here, both of you. I don’t have time for foolishness this morning.”
Amilia cringed openly, but Thrace did not waver. “Tell me, Quail, do you think the palace guards share your opinions of me?” She looked back at the soldier. “If I were to call him over and accuse you of … let’s see … being a traitor, and then … let me think … order him to execute you right here, what do you think he would do?”
The clerk looked suspiciously at Thrace, as if trying to see behind a mask. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his eyes shifting between the two women.
“No? Why not?” Thrace replied. “You just said yourself that I’m insane. There’s no telling what I might do, or why. From now on, you’ll treat Lady Amilia with respect and obey her orders as if they come from the highest authority. Do you understand?”
The clerk nodded slowly.
As Thrace turned to leave, she caught sight of Hadrian and stopped as if she had run into an invisible wall. Her eyes locked on his and she staggered a step and stood, wavering.
Amilia reached out to support her. “Modina, what’s wrong?”
Thrace said nothing. She continued to stare at him—her eyes filling with tears, her lips trembling.
The door to the main office opened.
“I don’t want to hear another word about it!” Ethelred thundered as he, Saldur, and Archibald Ballentyne entered the anteroom together. Hadrian looked toward the hall window, estimating the number of steps it would take to reach it.
The old cleric focused on Thrace. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m taking Her Eminence back to her room,” Amilia replied. “I don’t think she’s feeling well.”
“They were requesting material for a new dress,” the clerk announced with an accusing tone.
“Well, obviously she needs one. Why is she still wearing that rag?” Saldur asked.
“The lord chamberlain refuses—”
“What do you need him for?” Saldur scowled. “Just tell the clerk to order what you require. You don’t need to pester Bernard with such trivialities.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Amilia said, placing one arm around Thrace’s waist and supporting her elbow with the other as she gently led her away. Thrace’s eyes never left Hadrian, her head turning over her shoulder as they departed.
Saldur followed her gaze and looked curiously at Hadrian. “You look familiar,” he said, taking a step toward him.
“Courier,” Hadrian said, his heart racing. He bowed and held up the message like a shield.
“He’s probably been here a dozen times, Sauly.” Ethelred snatched the folded parchment and eyed it. “This is from Merrick!”
All three lost interest in Hadrian as Ethelred unfolded the letter.
“Your Lordships.” Hadrian bowed, then turned and quickly walked away, passing Amilia and Thrace. With each step, he felt her stare upon his back, until he turned the corner, placing him out of her sight.
“Any problems?” Royce asked when Hadrian met him outside.
“Almost. I saw Thrace,” Hadrian said as they walked. “She doesn’t look good. She’s thin—real thin—and pale. She was begging for clothes from some sniveling little clerk.”
Royce looked back, concerned. “Did she recognize you?”
Hadrian nodded. “But she didn’t say anything. She just stared.”
“I guess if she was planning to arrest us, she’d have done it by now,” Royce said.
“Arrest us? This is Thrace we’re talking about, for Maribor’s sake.”
“They’ve had her for more than a year—she’s Empress Modina now.”
“Yeah, but …”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” Hadrian said, remembering the look on Thrace’s face. “She doesn’t look well. I’m not sure what’s going on in the palace, but it’s not good. And I promised her father I’d look out for her.”
Royce shook his head in frustration. “Can we focus on one rescue at a time? For a man in retirement, you’re really busy. Besides, Theron’s idea of success was to get his eldest son a cooper’s shop. I think he might settle for his daughter being crowned empress. Now, let’s get rid of these horses and make our way down to the wharf. We need to find the Emerald Storm.”
CHAPTER 4
THE RACE