Chapter Eleven

Headmistress Kimblay stood at the front of the class, mouth drawn into a tight smile. She glanced around the room, her gaze catching mine.

“Don’t forget tomorrow is your final testing for the year. For some of you, it will be the last test you take in my classroom. Then it will be out into the real world with you.”

Shifting in my seat, I stared around the room. The class seemed empty since the Mission. Dorian and the others had been gone three weeks now. This meant Kimblay focused more attention on me—something I didn’t like. But after tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. Instead, I’d fill my days being measured and fitted for my wedding gown. Which, if I was honest, made me all kinds of nervous. And Cook would likely find chores to keep me busy when I wasn’t at the weapons course with Captain Bushwell. Just because I was going to be a princess didn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to fight.

Kimblay continued to talk to the class, but I tuned her out, wondering when Cook would remember I hadn’t talked to Father yet. Not that either of them had been around much as of late. Pudge and I spent day and night together, either at his house or mine while they were in meetings.

So over the next few hours we sat listening to Kimblay’s lectures and took notes for our test.

When class finished, I hurried outside, where Grr stood waiting for me. His tail wagged when he saw me, and he trotted over, nudging my leg with his head.

“Hey, boy.” My fingers scratched behind his ears.

“Lady Ivy!” Amos shouted, running up from behind as we approached the main gate.

I pivoted to face him. “Hi. What’s going on?”

He reached under his cloak and pulled out a scroll. “Prince Dorian sent this to you in my care. He wanted to make sure you got it.”

I took it from him, noticing the green wax seal securing it shut. “Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself, Ivy.” He smiled, then hurried away as fast as he’d come.

“Well, aren’t you going to read it?” Pudge leaned closer to me.

My heart thudded against my ribs. Hag, what if he was in trouble? Or what if he wanted to tell me that he changed his mind about marrying me?

Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

Dearest Ivy,

I want to apologize if I caught you off guard during the Sending Off. That wasn’t my intent. I’m not sure if you were upset or happy with the engagement, but I hope the latter. There’s so much going on—things you need to know. Things our fathers have kept secret that I have recently found out. Hag knows you deserve the truth. But I cannot give that to you on paper. It’s too dangerous. However, I suggest you demand an audience with my father at once. Tell him you need to know the truth. We will have things that need to be sorted once I am home. But for now, I wish you happiness and hope time goes by quickly so we might be together again soon.

Yours,

Dorian

I glanced at Pudge. What in the hell did this mean?

“C’mon, tell me what he wants.” Pudge reached for the parchment.

I handed it to him, eyebrows raised. “Wonder what kind of trouble I’ll get into if I race in there now and tell the king I want answers.” My father would probably indenture me to a lifetime of gutter work.

Pudge handed it back. “I think you should do it.”

“Are you mad?”

“No. He wouldn’t have sent you the letter if he didn’t think it was important.”

Shoving it into my pouch, I groaned. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.”

With Grr in tow, we headed back toward the palace. When we arrived, the guards waved us through. Voices echoed from the grounds, soldiers finishing their training and servants carrying a butchered pig toward the palace kitchens, preparing for the final meal of the night.

Once inside, we moved down the long hallway. Candlelight flickered off the suits of armor, flashing silver sprays of light over paintings decorating the way to the throne room. The closer we got, the sweatier my palms became, and I wiped them on my gown.

We were stopped at the door of the throne room by two guards holding battle-axes. They looked like a pair of oxen ready to stomp over us.

“I’d like to request an audience with the king.” I stood straighter. Pudge and Grr waited on either side of me, like my own retinue.

“Lady Ivy.” One of the guards bowed. “The king has ordered that he not be disturbed.”

Well, that certainly put a damper on things. “Can you let him know I’ve stopped in and would like to see him at his earliest convenience?” A part of me considered trying my luck and pushing through. But the vision of their axe blades taking my head off made me reconsider.

“Of course.” The guard bowed once more.

I glanced up to see Councilor Dundry, Birdie’s father, eyeing me before disappearing down the hall. Then a cool breeze brushed past my cheek.

Where was he going in such a hurry? And why was he slinking about? My tattoo tingled. But before I could move to follow him, Cook rounded the corner.

“There ye are. Kimblay said she’d let ye out of class already. Thought I’d come along and make sure ye got home on time.” She grinned.

More like Father had probably sent her. My gaze shifted to where Councilor Dundry had disappeared. I’d have to save any suspicions I had of him for another day.

When we got back to the house, Father stood waiting for us. “Good, you’re home. I hope you’re ready for your testing tomorrow.”

“Yes. We’ve been studying all week.” I motioned to Pudge. I was surprised they hadn’t squashed all of our alone time, now that I was engaged.

“Very good. Cook said you wanted to talk to me about something important?” Father’s gaze held mine.

Damn! I knew Cook had a reason for marching up to retrieve me from school.

Cook cleared her throat. “Go on then. Show him.”

Pudge went still, backing away from us, while Grr stood where he was.

Father watched me. “Show me what?”

Sucking in a lungful of air, I turned so my back was to him and lifted my hair to reveal the tattoo.

“This,” I said in a soft voice.

He gasped. “Why wasn’t this brought to my attention sooner?”

“I wanted to wait until after the Sending Off.”

“That was weeks ago. Did it not occur to either of you that this was of importance?”

“Sorry, that was my fault. I made Cook promise not to tell—not until I was ready. You had so many other things going on.”

“I should’ve been made aware the moment it happened.” My father traced the mark with his fingers, then stepped away to grab his cloak. “This certainly changes things.”