Bring Me Their Hearts(77)
I think back to the dagger with the vial in it that I was stabbed with, and the one Malachite found on the assassin. Clumsy indeed, but effective. I look up at her.
“So what do we do? I imagine walking up and asking him politely for these notes is out of the question.”
She laughs softly. “Quite. I know how my uncle thinks—what places he’d keep something so precious to him. I’ve narrowed it down to two such locations. And if I have my way today, I’ll finally get the clue I need to narrow it down to one.”
“Do I get any details, or are you just going to point me at a crowd and tell me to do my thing?”
She claps her hands excitedly. “Oh Lady Zera, this is what I like about you! Straight to the point. I need you to draw out my uncle from his study. The window of his office is on this side of the palace, so he can see us now, and he will definitely notice any ruckus you cause here at the party.”
“You’re the one who knows him. How do you suggest I go about it?”
“Hmm, let’s see—he likes watching people suffer, and Pendronic milk scones, and displays of martial prowess—”
“Martial prowess,” I repeat. “Like a fight? A duel?”
Her smile grows delighted. “Exactly like a duel.” She looks around at the noble boys, then sighs. “Except he’s seen everyone here duel, including the prince. It’ll be nothing new, unless we raise the stakes or perhaps cause an injury to his favorite Priseless twins—”
“As much as I like the sound of that last one, he hasn’t seen me duel.”
Fione’s eyes spark. “You duel?”
“Enough to know a parry from a riposte.”
“A girl dueling—a Spring Bride, nonetheless…” Fione whispers to herself, then looks up at me. “It just might work.”
“How much time do you need?”
“Ten minutes. Three to get in, five to undo his puzzle-locks, and two to get out.”
“And you won’t be caught?”
“If I am, it was nice knowing you, Lady Zera.”
“You’re willing to risk your life for this?” I press. “For revenge?” Fione just smiles wider.
“Revenge? No. Justice? Yes.” She turns. “I’ll leave you to it. If I see an opening, I’m gone. Thank you in advance.”
She leaves me to hang at the edge of the nobles’ dice game. Winded by all this new information, I approach Lucien at his spot under the trees. Malachite gives me a little wave, and Lucien’s frown lightens as he observes his partying peers.
“Took you long enough,” he says, an edge of imperiousness to his voice. Malachite nudges him roughly.
“Just tell her you’re happy she’s here, you grump.”
A laugh bubbles up from me. “Not only do you have no sense of decorum, Malachite—you also have no grasp on reality. The day the prince is happy to see me is the day Vetris welcomes witches within its walls.”
Malachite and I share a chuckle, but Lucien’s face remains stone, his dark iron eyes on me. Our laughter peters out quickly, and I clear my throat to cover the awkward silence.
“I was wondering, Your Highness—”
“Lucien,” he insists instantly.
“Lucien.” I start again, a moth beating its wings against my empty chest. “Do you enjoy dueling?”
“Very much so—especially if there are new opponents.”
I give him a smile and excuse myself, my hands trembling mildly. Nervousness. Why did he look so serious? Surely I was right—the prince is no happier to see me than any other loudmouth blackmailer. I expected him to agree, to throw out some biting retort in unison. But he’d said nothing.
The almost-kiss last night lingers in my mind, but I plaster a smile on and approach the party’s game. It doesn’t take long to plant the idea of a duel in their heads—a chance for the boys to impress the ladies, and a chance for the ladies to have the boys compete for their affection. The boys shed their heavy overcoats in anticipation of the sweat they’ll work up, the girls tittering madly at one fewer layer than usual. Servants fetch swords and place brightly colored rice pouches on the ground to denote the dueling arena. Girls work out bets between them—the clear favorite to win is Lord Grat, a broad-shouldered Secondblood boy built like an ox, his neck thicker than my not-insubstantial thigh. He lunges against an invisible opponent as he warms up, his thrusts with his longsword impressively quick for his size. Grat sees me staring and waves, cupping his hands to his mouth.
“I’ll win this duel for you, Lady Zera!”
The girls giggle, and I do my best to fake a flattered blush. Next to me, someone whistles. I turn to see Malachite watching Lord Grat with me.
“Not bad. A few more years of growing and he might be strong enough to take on a hatchling valkerax.”
I look Malachite up and down. He’s slenderer than Lucien by far, though they’re equally broad. “How strong are you?”
Malachite laughs. “What, don’t I look that beefy?”
“I was thinking more…chickeny.”
He clucks his tongue. “You’re the worst. All I do is look out for you, and you call me fowl.” I gloss over the pun with a groan, but Malachite presses on. “Beneathers are stronger than we look. Not celeon strong, certainly, but strong enough. It helps too that we have certain…resistances.”