A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(53)

Either way, it makes the tears dry up real quick.

I wish I’d taken the pouch of silver. Rhen always says that a little bit of honest coin in someone’s palm can shift loyalties. It would sound callous and manipulative from anyone else, but I’ve seen his generosity toward his people, the way he’s bolstered business and trade across Emberfall. Grey has supporters here, people who would rather see him on the throne because so many people blame Rhen for the kingdom’s downfall during the time of the curse. But they forget that Rhen was the one to bring this country back from the brink of ruin.

I can see it here in Silvermoon, the changes since I first visited: No one is thin anymore. Clothes, while simple, are not worn threadbare. Shoes and boots seem well-tooled and free of holes. At the food stalls, plates are piled high with roasted meats and spiced vegetables, and goblets are filled to the top with wine, not halfway as they were the first time we visited.

But they believe someone else is heir, so none of that matters.

They believe my inability to produce Disi’s “army” left them vulnerable, so none of that matters.

I’m guilty of it, too, I realize. Rhen did so much good—so much good that I used to be in awe at his never-ending work ethic—but as soon as he took action against Grey, it seemed to overshadow everything else.

I sigh. We wander. The marketplace doesn’t seem crowded, which takes me by surprise. There’s a weird feeling in the air. It’s not hostile, and I can’t quite figure it out, but it’s leaving me unsettled. I thread my fingers through silken fabrics and examine blown glass figurines. Everyone is cordial—at least to my face—but I can’t help remembering the first time we were in Silvermoon, when Rhen and I were attacked, and we barely escaped alive.

I have to swallow my nerves. It’s not like that now, but I’m keenly aware that I only have Zo at my side.

By late afternoon, no one has tried to kill me and I’m starving. The ache from whatever Lilith did has gone away, and my pride won’t let me seek out Rhen. He’s probably busy anyway. Zo and I have made it to the back part of the market, where the vendor stalls are twice as wide, selling more expensive goods: finely tooled weapons, beaded gowns, leather and furs, and polished jewels. Silvermoon’s guards and enforcers are more plentiful back here, and I relax a little bit.

When we draw near to the musician’s stall, Zo’s eyes light up, and a short, round woman in a dress of dyed homespun wool dashes out from behind the counter. She looks to be near fifty, with weathered tan skin and gray hair that’s been cropped short. Her smile is brighter than the sun.

“Zo!” she cries, rushing toward us. “Oh, Zo, you are a sight.” Then she stops short and grabs hold of her skirts, bobbing a quick curtsy to me. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

I can’t help but smile back. “No need.”

“I know better than to run at a member of the Royal Guard,” she says, with a bit of feigned awe in her voice. “Even if I knew the guard when she was still tripping over her braids in her rush to beat my boys at whatever nonsense they were getting up to.”

“Someone had to,” says Zo. She’s smiling. “My lady, this is Grace. Her husband is the Master of Song for Silvermoon. Grace, this is Princess Harper of Disi.”

Grace’s face freezes for just the briefest moment, making her smile seem a bit forced, but then she curtsies again. “I am honored.”

“So am I,” I say. “Zo speaks fondly of her time as his apprentice.” This is true, but I also know Zo hated that her parents forced her into music when she longed to be a soldier or a guard. She spent every free moment she had learning swordplay and archery.

As someone who was once forced into taking ballet with bribes of horseback riding lessons, I think it’s the first thing Zo and I ever bonded over.

“Where is Master Edmund?” says Zo. “Will he be playing later?”

Grace hesitates again, but then she waves a hand. She probably intends for it to look casual, but it seems a bit forced. “Oh, he’s with the crowd that went to meet the prince.”

I frown. “The crowd?” There wasn’t supposed to be a crowd. Rhen was supposed to meet with the Grand Marshal about his soldiers or his army or some kind of military planning. We didn’t bring a contingent of guards to meet a crowd.

Especially in a town like Silvermoon, where Rhen’s popularity is questionable at best.

A spike of fear drives right through my spine. I might be pissed off, but I don’t want something to happen to him.

I don’t want him to be forced to take an action he’d later regret.

Zo is already two steps ahead of me. Her eyes are on the people around us suddenly, as if she senses a threat. “Harper,” she says urgently, her voice low. “We should—”

“I know. Let’s find him.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RHEN

No one has tried to kill me, but this feels like an ambush all the same.

Hundreds of merchants and laborers pack the courtyard in front of the Grand Marshal’s home. They’re angry, all shouting questions at once. They want to know why they should pay taxes to the Crown if I’m determined to remain allied with a country that failed to produce an army. They want to know why soldiers forced their way into Silvermoon when the Grand Marshal attempted to block access a few months ago. They want to know how we’re going to stop another invasion from Syhl Shallow.