Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(71)

Claudia shrugs, unfazed. “Surely you’re used to it yourself.”

“What happened to her?”

“Davida? Depends on who you ask,” Claudia responds, “but all of us here know the truth.” She leans in for dramatic effect, clearly excited to be the one to tell the story. “Don’t talk back to the prince if you want to keep your tongue.”

I gasp in shock. The barbaric punishment for such a small infraction fills me with fresh hate.

“She was about to marry a general and everything,” another servant girl says.

“Shut it,” Jacinta mutters. “Leave Davida alone.”

“Pity about Hector.” Claudia sighs, seemingly more from exhaustion than from sympathy. “Lost his hand at Riomar. Never married, neither.”

I want to voice my anger, but how can I? I’m the justice’s marionette girl. I bled in the stone floor of the throne room. Anything I say, especially down here, would make its way through the palace faster than a flash of lightning.

The other women smile curiously at me. One of them eventually builds up enough courage to ask a question. “How come you’re not up in the tower with the other quiet ones?”

“Quiet ones?” I ask.

“The Hand of your lot,” Claudia explains.

What she’s asking is, why haven’t I become an official part of the Hand of Moria. One of Méndez’s minions.

“I suppose I must prove myself loyal first,” I answer slowly. But I don’t want to talk about me. These women are not cruel, not like the courtiers from this morning. But as kind as they’re being, I can’t let myself fall into a trap. I’m here for information, and I intend to get it.

“Justice Méndez said the Sun Festival will bring foreigners and nobles by the wagons,” I say, trying to show the same cheer Dez always used to put strangers at ease. He was more natural than I am. You were born serious.

“And we’re the lucky ones to change their urine-soaked sheets,” one girl mutters. “Drink so much they can’t contain themselves.”

They chitter, and another adds, “Lucky if a bit of piss is all you find.”

“Do you ever notice how Prince Castian’s linens never smell foul?” Jacinta says, her brown eyes shining.

“You’re dreaming!” Claudia says, smirking crudely. “All men have a stink. Even a prince has to work up a sweat while giving himself a tug or two.”

I choke on my soup, my face hot and probably tomato red as the girls laugh at me. I don’t want that image of the murderous prince in my head. But Jacinta said something that intrigues me.

“You couldn’t possibly know which sheets are his,” I say dismissively.

Jacinta’s eyes widen, and she juts out her chin. Pride is a wonderful tool, Dez used to say. At the thought of him I steel my heart and nearly salivate as I wait for the servant girl to answer.

“I’m the one who strips his bed,” she says, as if she’s been given a position of honor. Which, I suppose, she feels she has. “Though who can say when the prince will return.”

“You lot!” A commanding voice rings out across the yard. It’s the majordoma in all her ferocity. “Get back to work or five libbies are coming out of your wages.”

“Come on, girls,” Claudia says. “Someone’s got to do the dirty work.”

I stay close to Jacinta. This girl has access to Prince Castian. This girl is my way into his apartments.

“Except you,” Frederica says, clapping her hand on my shoulder. “Leo’s half-mad looking for you.”

It’s my cue to leave. I unwrap my apron and walk toward Jacinta’s station to hang it up. What do I think I’m doing? I can’t take a memory from her out in the open. But I need more time with her.

Claudia’s red hair obstructs my line of sight. “You’re not terrible, Renata. Come back in four nights’ time after dark.”

I lean in. I suppose “not terrible” is a compliment. “What’s after dark?”

She winks. “The lords have their revels, and we have ours.”





Chapter 17


After three days of wandering around the palace, these are the secrets I’ve discovered: The royal servers spit in their masters’ plates during dinner. Two of the courtiers anxiously waiting for Castian’s return have taken a guard to their bed. The same guard. He’s reassigned out of the palace overnight. The seamstress is importing spider silk from Luzou, which is technically illegal, but it is said to be sanctioned by the queen herself. The guard posted at my door at night “for my protection” smells of aguadulce and spends most of his time muttering curses while he paces. Surely he has been given the worst duty in the palace.

Three days and no sign of the weapon. No more hidden rooms except the vault full of alman stone. No spy.

If the Magpie was once among the people of the palace, I believe them to be gone.



On the fourth morning, my routine continues. Leo wakes me up to feed and dress me. He takes me to Justice Méndez, who gets worse and worse at containing his disappointment when I have no news. I encourage him. I tell him that all spies make mistakes, because I do not want to lose my privileges of walking around the palace. But when I leave his offices with a stellita in my pocket, I begin to lose hope, too. The palace has too many empty spaces to get lost in. Alessandro is at my heels when Leo is not with me. I purposely walk slowly and turn in his direction. I catch myself wishing I could tell Margo that there is someone worse at sneaking around than I am. When that happens, I remember that she never trusted me, and the only thing that matters now is finishing what Dez could not.