Rise of Fire (Reign of Shadows #2)(51)

Since I couldn’t say anything, I did what I could. I kissed him.





TWENTY-THREE


Fowler


NOW THAT I was permitted to leave my bed, I conducted a discreet reconnaissance of the palace over the next couple of days. Maris was my constant shadow, but that didn’t stop me from assessing, weighing options, and considering the best way for Luna and me to get to the kitchens undetected.

I was learning the layout of the palace under the guise of strolls with Maris. The number of guards, the number of servants; the patterns and routines of everyone inside these walls were becoming as known to me as the back of my hand. I had to know this place and all its comings and goings—especially as they pertained to the kitchens. We’d have only one chance. There could be no surprises.

Luna and I hadn’t had an opportunity to talk alone since I was in her room two nights before. I fought to keep my distance, not trusting myself to keep my feelings for her buried. Just as Maris was always near me, Chasan hovered close to her side.

And yet everything had changed between us. I didn’t need to say a word around her to know this. She knew it, too. She sensed whenever I was nearby. Her features would soften. The glow in her skin hinted at secrets. Her lips would fight smiles when she heard my voice or when I brushed a hand against her arm or hip. Casual touches no one would notice. But she knew, and so did I.

At night, I lay awake, my brain busy dreaming of Luna and contemplating our escape. If we left undetected, whilst everyone slept, we could have several hours’ lead.

Even when I should have been sleeping and storing my strength, I could only think. I fought the urge to sneak into her room again. Once was risky enough. I couldn’t dare it again. Instead I was left remembering what it was like to hold her, kiss her. She was my first taste of water after a long drought.

A hand waved in front of my eyes. “Hello? Are you in there, Fowler?”

I started and looked down at Maris beside me. Her hand rested snugly on my arm as I escorted her into the great hall. All a necessary subterfuge, I reminded myself. The king looked on with approval when we were together. Had it been me walking solo all over the castle, I was certain I would be viewed with suspicion.

“My apologies. You were saying?” She always said a great deal, mostly about our upcoming nuptials and our future together. It was hard to focus when her mouth was going.

“Woolgathering again,” she mused. “Is this what I should expect in our future? You daydreaming as I chatter on?” She smiled, but there was something in her eyes, an edge to her smile, that warned me she was annoyed. In that moment she reminded me of her father. She wasn’t as dim-witted as I’d first judged her. She sensed I didn’t reciprocate her level of interest, and she didn’t like it.

I forced a smile and covered her hand with my own, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “Still feeling lethargic from my injury, I suppose. Nothing a nap wouldn’t help rectify.”

I stifled a wince at the completely inane words. I needed to keep her content. If she wasn’t happy, she could go to her father, and I didn’t need the king scrutinizing me, questioning my true commitment to Maris and Lagonia while I was still here.

She nodded in sympathy, but something lurked in her eyes. She wasn’t convinced. “Of course. Father and I were discussing when we should take our vows. Contrary to all the jests about a double wedding, I’m feeling rather selfish. I want my wedding day to myself.” She pushed out her bottom lip and shrugged with a decided lack of remorse. “I deserve that, don’t I?”

“Am I invited?” I joked.

She swatted my arm with a tinkle of laughter. “Of course, silly. I meant our wedding. How does next week sound? That should be enough time to plan a proper feast. I already have my gown. I’ve had it for some time in anticipation of this day.”

Of course she did. She’d been waiting for this day her whole life.

She fanned her fingers against my cheek, nails scraping lightly over my jaw. “You don’t have to do a thing.” She leaned across the space between us and kissed my cheek. “I cannot wait to be your bride,” she whispered.

“Next week,” I echoed, my mind working, plotting, as I stared down the table where Luna sat beside Chasan.

Maris nodded, her hand drifting.

“It won’t be soon enough. Next week sounds fine,” I agreed.

Luna and I would be gone by then.

The smell of the onions that had gone into the evening’s rich stew lingered in the air as we crept through the kitchen.

Everyone was asleep at this hour. Servants either exhausted from a long day of labor or nobles comfortable in their beds, sated from too much food and drink.

A fire crackled in the hearth. Several kitchen maids slept before its warmth, gentle snores weaving on the air. I led the way, Luna behind me, skimming her hand over the wall and surfaces until we reached the room that smelled of dry goods. I’d observed it briefly when Maris gave me a tour of the castle days ago. Lifting the latch, I eased inside, ushering Luna ahead of me. Carefully, I shut the door behind us.

Letting go of Luna, I examined the storeroom floor.

“Is this the room?” she whispered.

“We’re about to find out.” I set to work, dragging baskets of goods and boxes of supplies to the far sides of the room. A rough straw rug covered the floor, coated with a thick layer of dust and soot. If there was a hidden door underneath, it didn’t look as though it had been used in a long time. I flung the rug to the far end of the room, sending a storm of dirt up into the air. Coughing, I waved aside the particles and stared at an iron grate. I unbolted it and lifted the heavy door, flipping it over and easing it down carefully so that it didn’t bang.