Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(93)

“What sorts of inventions?” I ask, suspicious. “You said he was an alchemist, didn’t you? Doesn’t that involve creating gold?”

At that, he smirks. “Of a sort,” he says. “How do you think I’ve been paying King Etristo for the privilege of fighting for your hand?”

All I can do for a moment is stare at him. “Master Jurou created gold?” I ask slowly.

“Of a sort,” he repeats. “It’s close enough to fool the King, but the illusion of it might not have held for much longer anyway.”

I shake my head. “Magic or science?” I ask him.

Erik shrugs. “As I understand it—which is admittedly very little—it’s a bit of both.”





THOUGH I’D LIKE NOTHING BETTER than to hole up in my room all day and plan for our eventual escape from Sta’Crivero, I find myself instead preparing for a walk in the garden with Coltania. Her invitation was quite insistent and I’m hoping I can convince her to hurry her truth serum along in order to get S?ren out of prison as quickly as possible.

Artemisia sits in one corner of my room, polishing her ever-growing collection of daggers, while Heron tries to mend one of my dresses. Skilled as he might be, it’s difficult to hide how many jewels I plucked off to give to the children in the camp.

After what S?ren and Erik said about Sta’Crivero’s drought, I can’t help but worry that Artemisia’s Water Gift might make her a target. But she’s only one girl—she couldn’t do much good for them in the long run—and it would mean King Etristo showing his weakness, which he would be unlikely to do for such a small reward. Still, I’m glad that we’ll be leaving this place soon.

“Tell me again what Blaise said when you told him our plan,” I say to Artemisia from my spot at the foot of the bed, pillow clutched tightly in my lap.

Artemisia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know how you expect me to quote him any more directly than I already have. He said, ‘All right.’?”

“That was it? Nothing else?” I ask.

“He asked what you needed him to do. I told him to get your letter to someone who could get it to the Vecturian chief. He thanked me and took the letter plus the food and water I brought for him and I came right back,” she said, her voice clipped and impatient. It’s a warning not to push her any harder, though it’s a warning I ignore.

“But how did he look when he said it? Did he think it was a good idea or was he begrudging about it?”

She slams her dagger down on the ground beside her with a sharp thud that echoes through the room. “He looked like he was hot. And thirsty.”

To that I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to apologize, but I suspect she would call me a fool if I did. What would I be apologizing for? Letting him leave the palace? He’s dangerous and he has no desire to change that. All I can do is try to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.

A knock sounds at the door and Heron and Artemisia are on their feet with their weapons drawn before I can so much as blink.

“I doubt an assassin would bother knocking,” I point out, but Artemisia waves for me to be quiet and crosses to the door herself, opening it the same way she always does—with the point of her dagger in the guest’s face. This time, it’s a very alarmed Erik on the other side of her blade. When she sees him, Artemisia gives a loud sigh—as if he’s inconveniencing her by not trying to kill me—before reluctantly lowering her dagger.

“Erik,” I say, when she steps aside to let him in. “Is everything settled for your trip?”

He nods, glancing at Artemisia and Heron. “Do they know everything?”

Before I can answer, Artemisia jumps in. “I think it’s a stupid plan, but Heron thinks it’s brave,” she says.

I frown at her. “You told me you thought it was a good plan,” I point out.

“I did not say that,” she says with a snort. “What I said was that it was marginally better than marrying someone with no personal stake in Astrea besides lining his pockets.”

“Well, from you that does actually sound like a ringing endorsement,” Erik says wryly.

To my surprise, Artemisia laughs. She looks surprised by it as well and frowns before sitting back down in the high-backed chair and returning to polishing her collection of daggers.

“If either of you wants to come with me, I wouldn’t mind the company,” Erik adds, his gaze lingering on Heron.

Heron meets Erik’s gaze, and it might be my imagination, but I think his cheeks turn a bit pink. There’s enough of a pause that for a moment I think he might agree, but he eventually shakes his head. “Our place is with the Queen,” he says finally. Selfish as it might make me, I’m glad he says it. I don’t know what I’d do without him and Artemisia.

“Apparently, you aren’t the only ones who feel that way,” Erik says with a sigh before turning to me. “My mother has also decided that she wants to stay with you, which I’m trying not to take too personally.”

I smile. “I’m glad to have Hoa with me,” I admit. “I feel like I’m only just beginning to know her.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, she said the same things about you,” he says, sounding somewhat put out. “She also said that the Sta’Criveran attendants were dressing you too garishly for a queen and she needed to stay to put a stop to that.”