A Red-Rose Chain

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”


“I’m not raising my voice, I’m not yelling at you, and I think I’ve earned a moment of speaking on my own behalf, considering what you just tried to pull, so let me say it one more time, for the sake of clarity: don’t do this again. If you want to arrest me, fine, you’re the King here, you can arrest me. But if you don’t want it to be the biggest mistake of your political career, you’ll arrest me for something I did, rather than trying to trump up a crime you know damn well I didn’t commit. This wasn’t smart of you. It makes us both look bad. So don’t. Do it. Again.”

There was a long pause before Rhys nodded. “I will take your words under advisement, Sir Daye. You are free to leave my presence, as are your people. The night has been long, and we are planning to push it further. Return for a late dinner at the stroke of noon. We shall have a grand feast in your honor.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” I said. I took Quentin’s hand, which he let me have without protest, and gestured for Tybalt to do the same with May. My fury raged against my breastbone, begging for its freedom, and the fact that I couldn’t grant it what it wanted was worse than the anger itself.

Together, the five of us walked out of the room, May and Quentin staring vacantly off into space, Walther clutching his chest as tightly as I held my squire’s hand. None of us spoke. If we had, I think Rhys would have found a lot more grounds to arrest us for treason. All he’d really needed to do was wait.





FOURTEEN




“HOW MUCH LONGER?” I glared at Walther as I paced back and forth across the bedroom. May and Quentin were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall in front of them. Even waving my hand in front of their faces hadn’t been enough to make them track my motion or acknowledge my presence. Only direct orders did that, and I didn’t like commanding my friends when they couldn’t refuse me.

“Almost done,” said Walther, adding another pinch of brightly colored powder to his mortar. “This would be a lot easier if I had access to my lab back at the University.”

“Well, you don’t. Work faster.” I kept pacing.

Walther didn’t dignify my words with a reply. That was probably for the best. He had checked the room for new listening charms when we first got back, and hadn’t managed to find any; either King Rhys had charm-crafters who were so far outside of Walther’s league that he couldn’t recognize their work, or no one had yet figured out that they weren’t getting anything useful out of this room.

Tybalt was gone. He hadn’t told me where he was going, but he’d kissed me before diving into the shadows behind the bed, and I trusted that whatever he was doing, he’d come back and explain it when he was done. I would normally have been a lot more agitated about him running off without explanation during a crisis, but Walther had still been checking for new listening charms when Tybalt had opened the Shadow Roads. Explanations hadn’t been safe yet.

I was still wearing my latest involuntary ball gown, since I hadn’t been able to figure out how to remove it on my own. The more things changed, the more they inevitably stayed the same. Most court gear seems to have been designed to hobble women, making us easier to catch—and honestly, easier to kill. I’m sure there are people who know how to fight in floor-length gowns with six layers of crinoline, but I do not know their secrets. I just know that I’ll take denim over damask any day, and I was looking forward to May being able to help me with the ties on my current dress.

“Done,” said Walther.

I whirled around to face him. “Done?”

“Done,” he repeated. He stood, leaving most of his kit behind as he started toward the bed. “I’m not sure how they’re going to react. You might want to stand back.”