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The afternoon wore away under the ministrations of Tereza’s maids and seamstress, who must have possessed her own bit of Magic. Nothing else explained how she managed to race through the alterations on the pile of gowns she’d brought. Hours passed in a blur of satin, lace, silk, cotton, and wool. I numbed myself to the commotion and let the women adjust me as necessary—bending, lifting, twisting, and turning under the seamstress’s command as though I were her living dress form.
Near sunset, the ladies finished and left me alone with a single maid who stayed to fuss over my hair, torturing it with a hot iron and hairpins. I was sitting at the vanity in my bedroom in a plain cotton mull dress with my hair halfway arranged when the hallway door burst open. A rabble of excited voices spilled into my room.
“Evie?” Gideon bellowed. Someone, a footman perhaps, muttered a quiet question in reply. I hurried into the sitting room to find Gideon paused at the apartment’s threshold with a servant locked around his arm. That footman might as well have tugged on the tail of a bull preparing to charge. Marlis peeked around her brother, her gaze flittering over the room, taking in everything with her usual quiet contemplation.
When he saw me, Gideon’s jaw fell slack and his eyes bugged. I bit back a laugh, knowing my humor would only aggravate him more. “Hello.” I twiddled my fingers at him. “Glad you could join me.”
Marlis grinned at me, but a red stain crept up Gideon’s neck, inflaming his cheeks. His jaw snapped shut, and he gritted his teeth. “Are you all right?” he asked, almost a growl.
I gestured to my dress and slippers. “Very well.”
“So I see.” His gaze swept over me, and the corner of his mouth flinched as though he were resisting the urge to smirk.
A trio of upholstered chairs squatted before the fireplace. I pointed at them. “Might as well get comfortable. I’ll tell you everything. Or, at least, the parts I know. I’m still not sure any of this makes sense.”
He shook off the footman and stepped fully into the room. The servant bowed, backed into the hallway, and closed the door behind him. We all sat, and I recounted my abduction, my introduction to Otokar and the empress, and her generous offer to house and protect us.
Marlis listened to everything, and her stoic expression never wavered. Gideon, however, sighed, slumped in his chair, and scrubbed his palm against the bristles on his jaw. His head dropped back, and his gaze seemed to settle on something distant, beyond the confines of this room. “It’s better for you,” he said. “Safer. I relied too much on our anonymity and left you in a vulnerable position. We’re lucky it was the empress and not someone more...malevolent who found you. I’ve let you down, Evie.”
I leaned forward and took his hand, rubbing my fingers over the callouses in his palm. “It’s not your fault,” I said. His head snapped up and his gray eyes met mine. “I exposed myself every time I tried to use my powers. You respected me enough to let me take that risk.”
“As if that were my choice. As if I could ever tell you what to do.”
“That hasn’t stopped you from trying.”
The set of his jaw hardened, and a muscle twitched under his eye. “That was before. When you trusted me.”
I squeezed his hand, let go, and stood. “There’s no one in this castle, or the whole of Bonhemm, that I trust more than the two of you.” I felt their stares following me as I crossed the apartment and opened a door leading to a small, dark bedroom. “This will be your room, Gideon. Marlis will take the one adjoining mine.”
Gideon rolled to his feet and straightened his coat, the same suede jacket he’d managed to hang onto since our hasty escape from Fallstaff, months before. His shirt collar had wilted, and bits of straw clung to his waistcoat, yet he maintained an air of respectability and poise. “The empress has left new clothes for you.” I gestured into the darkness of his room. “I’m afraid it might be more formal than what you’re used to.”
His lips thinned. “Formal?”
“She expects you to leave the stables and serve as my personal guard.”
“What about me?” Marlis asked.
I hesitated to reply. For over a month, the three of us had lived as equals—no ranks, no title, no courtly conventions. The empress, however, held a conflicting opinion, and I was unprepared to defy her. Not yet. I’d barely recovered from the shock of finding myself dressed in fine clothes and stuffed in a luxurious apartment in the heart of Prigha Castle. “The empress wants you to be my lady-in-waiting.”
Perhaps I’d expected disappointment or outrage, but instead, Marlis bobbed her head. “That means I can be myself while the two of you play at nobility, right?”
“I think it means you might occasionally have to help me dress or arrange my hair, but mostly you’ll be my official companion.” I went to her and knelt at her side. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me now. We can still pack up and leave the city tonight.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “Are you asking me if I’d rather go back to living on the road, when I could stay here”—she waved in a gesture that encompassed all the fineries of the sitting room and beyond—“in comfort and luxury? Evie, why would I ever say no?”
I squeezed her shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“How about food? Will there be plenty to eat?”
“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve already ordered supper.”
“And all I have to do is pin up your hair and fasten the occasional button for you?”
“Something like that.”
Her attention shifted to her brother, and a smile played on her lips. “What do you think, Gideon? Should we stay?”
He leaned against the doorway of his new bedroom and studied his fingernails as though he’d never seen anything more interesting than his own cuticles. “I say it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s Evie’s decision. She may be no safer here than on the streets, but it might be nice to lie in a real bed without worrying that the rats will steal the boots off my feet while I sleep.”
I chuckled at the image, but my laughter quickly faded. “We’ll stay, then, for now. Tomorrow I’ll see if there’s any way Tereza can help us find the Fantazikes. Meanwhile, everyone keep their eyes and ears open. I’ve learned to never accept roses without expecting to get pricked by a thorn.”
Gideon disappeared into his room to freshen up while I dismissed Tereza’s maid in preference of Marlis’s easier companionship. As she pinned the last lock of my hair into place, a footman knocked at our apartment door, announcing the arrival of our supper.
The three of us dined at a small table the empress’s staff had set for us with plain china and candles. We said little to each other, content to stuff ourselves on fish, greens, bread, and wine until our stomachs strained and not a single crumb remained. Safe, warm, and truly full for the first time in weeks, we relaxed and drowsed until we all nearly fell asleep in our seats.
As the hour grew late, Marlis shook off her stupor. She rose and began clearing the table, returning dishes to the covered trays the footman had left for us. I clasped her wrist as she reached for my plate. “Leave it. Someone will come to collect these. Tonight, you rest.” I narrowed my eyes at Gideon. “We all rest. Who knows how long this will last. We could be on the run again tomorrow.”
He discarded his napkin on the table and stood. “Rest or no, I mean to take my new job seriously.”
I nodded and stood beside him, returning his stare. “Of course you will.”
Taking Marlis by her elbow, I led her toward her room, attached to my own sleeping chamber. Before I crossed the threshold, I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Good night, Gideon.”
He briefly bent in a casual bow. “Good night, Lady Thunder.”
***
The next morning, I awoke to early-morning sunlight glowing through sheer hangings around my bed. Careful not to wake Marlis, I dressed in my trousers and shirt from the day before—laundered and mended—and laced up my boots. After scribbling a quick missive, I tiptoed through the sitting room and reached for the handle of the hallway door.
Someone cleared his throat behind me.
“Good morning, Gideon,” I said, turning to face him. He wore an elegant pair of dark trousers, waistcoat, and long jacket in corded velveteen—nothing like his usual stable attire. The finery suited him. More than suited him. The faintest of butterfly wings fluttered in my belly, responding to his appeal.
“Where are you going so early in the morning?” he asked.
I flapped my letter at him. “To send a note to the church. I wanted to let Sister Maria know where to find me in case she gets word of the Fantazikes’ location.”
“You’re dressed as though you’re going to work.”
“And you’re dressed as if you’re going to tea.”
He huffed and waved his hand, eschewing my comment. “Where are you going, really?”
I glanced at the door, studying its nicks and scratches. “If I couldn’t find a messenger, I was going to take this note to the church myself. I thought it would be best if I tried to fit in with the crowd.”
“You were going without me?”
“As if. Whether I told you or not, I knew you’d follow me.”
He arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You did, huh?”
I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “So, are you coming?”
He followed me without comment, and we made our way to the castle’s grand foyer before a footman greeted us. He spoke in Bonhemmish, but his tone implied obsequiousness, and I presumed he was offering assistance.
“I’d like this sent to Sister Maria at the Katedrála z Vzrostl Syn.” I passed the footman my note. “I hoped he might tell me where we could find the empress’s Magician.”
Gideon translated for me, and the footman said something in reply. He bowed, clicked his heels, and walked away with my note in hand. “He’ll find a messenger for your letter,” Gideon said. “He also said Master Otokar is in the sunroom.”
I glanced around the foyer as if the correct pathway might reveal itself. “I don’t know where the sunroom is.”
“Follow me, m’lady.” He offered his elbow. “I’ll show you the way.”
Together we headed for the main staircase, but instead of climbing the stairs, he swerved, and we followed a hallway leading toward the rear of the castle.
“How do you know where to go?” I asked.
“What kind of personal guard would I be if I hadn’t performed the necessary reconnaissance?”
“When did you have time for that?”
“Last night.”
“I told you to rest.”
“In a strange house among strange people, do you really expect me to let down my guard?”
I puffed a gusty sigh. “Well, promise me you’ll at least eat a decent breakfast. I can’t have you fainting because of an empty stomach.”
He snorted. “Yes, m’lady.”
“And stop calling me that.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
I dug my elbow into Gideon’s ribs as we rounded the corner into an open space glowing with early-morning sunlight. Glass walls and a crystalline roof encased a room furnished in rattan and wicker. The color palette evoked the seaside in the summer: sandy beiges, seafoam whites, and shades of ocean blue. Birds twittered in a floor-to-ceiling cage of scrolling wrought iron painted white. Astonished by their unexpected presence, I stopped to admire their bright feathers and energetic chirping.
Otokar, sitting at a corner table surrounded by potted palms, looked up from a thick, leather-bound book and smiled. “Good morning, Lady Thunder. Sir Faust.”
“Evie,” I said, slitting my eyes at him. “Call me Evie. I insist.”
He set aside his book, picked up his teacup, and gestured to the open seats at his table. “Will you not join me, Evie?”
I wrinkled my nose at his mockery, but took a seat across from him. Gideon pulled out a chair at my right hand and joined us. A servant hurried to bring us each cups of hot steaming tea and plates of toast, jam, and butter. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Otokar asked.
“Forgive me for being direct so early in the morning, but the empress offered her assistance in helping me locate a certain band of Fantazikes.”
Beside me, Gideon silently slathered butter onto his toast. He hadn’t taken my advice about getting plenty of rest, but at least he wouldn’t starve himself.
“Yes, she did.” Otokar slid the jam jar closer to Gideon’s reach. “I remember. So why have you come to me instead of Tereza?”
“What can she do, other than send out messengers? I’ve already done that. But you are a Magician. Can’t you do anything”—I waggled my fingers—“Magical?”
He buried his wry smile in his teacup. After swallowing a sip, he blotted his lips and settled his dark gaze on me. “Something Magical? Perhaps I could.” He slid away from the table and stood. “Come find me after you have finished breakfast. I will be in my workroom. Ask the staff; they will show you the way.”
“I know where it is.” Gideon’s cheek bulged with toast.
Otokar’s eyes hardened. “Very well. Bring your mistress when you are done.” The Magician turned on his heel, and his black robes swirled around his feet as he exited the room. His departure upset the birds. They twittered sharply from their cage in the corner.
“What do you think he’s going to do?” I asked Gideon.
He selected a second slice of toast and smeared it with a thick swath of butter. “I don’t have much experience with Magicians. They never came to Daeg’s estate unless there was a special occasion of some sort.”
“My father didn’t keep a Magician either. We couldn’t afford it, and they were rare on Inselgrau, from what I understood.” Involuntary shivers rippled over me. “Jackie, Ruelle Thibodaux, and that man Daeg hired for the birthright ceremony are my only real experiences with Magicians. Based on that alone, I’m not inclined to believe Otokar should be trusted, no matter how charming he is.”
He scoffed. “You think he’s charming?”
Instead of answering, I reached for the butter and jam. After we reduced the pile of toast to crumbs and scraped the jam jar clean, Gideon and I left the sunroom and climbed the stairs, ascending until we reached the top floor, a level mostly free of furnishings. Our footsteps echoed against stone floors and walls. Instead of gaslights, pale-blue luminaries in tiny glass bulbs hovered several feet off the floor like fireflies marking the pathway.
I reached out to touch one, but Gideon caught my hand and drew me away. “What are they?” I asked. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Not sure. Which is why we shouldn’t touch them.”
Agreeing with his logic, I tucked my hands in my trouser pockets and followed him down the hallway until we reached another short set of stone stairs that landed before a thick wooden door. Gideon knocked, and moments later, Otokar opened the door. He waved us into his workspace, a windowless round room filled with sturdy worktables and overflowing bookshelves. More blue lights floated near the ceiling, and lamps burned scented oil of some rich citrus herb—verbena, perhaps. My nursemaid, Gerda, had often used it in her herbal concoctions for fevers and upset stomachs.
The Magician shut the door behind us and pointed at a stack of giant throw pillows heaped on the floor away from the center of his workroom. “Have a seat, you two. I must finish some things before I lose my thoughts.”
He bustled around one of his worktables, dampening the flames of several small gas burners heating a collection of flasks. The glassware held strangely colored liquids that burbled and belched steam clouds of a dubious nature. A large slate hung on the only bare wall in the room, and Otokar scribbled several unintelligible symbols on the board’s dark surface. I turned to Gideon and gave him a questioning look. He shook his head and frowned. In Otokar’s workroom, we were both far beyond our realms of knowledge and comfort.
The Magician set down his chalk and brushed the residue from his fingers. “This thing you ask me to do, it can be hard, or it can be easy. If you had something that belonged to these Fantazikes, something personal, it would be easy to locate them. Do you possess such an item?”
I held out my hands, empty palms open. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Otokar exhaled. “It is as I expected. To locate something unknown is more difficult.” He crossed the room and stopped before his bookshelves, arms folded over his chest, finger to his lips as he inspected his collection. “It requires the skill of scrying or divination. This is a skill some are good at, and others...not too much.”
“Are you good at it?” I asked. “Or not too much?”
He plucked a heavy book from his shelf, carried it to a worktable, and cracked it open. “If you were asking me to tell you where these Fantazikes will be in the future, it would be much harder. But you are only asking me to tell you something that is happening now. Where your friends are at this moment—this is what you want to know. Am I correct?”
I nodded and he continued. “This is not so easy, but it is easier than telling the future.” He scurried around the room, collecting a shallow golden bowl and a pitcher of water. He set these next to his book. From the folds of his cloak he removed a small blade. After referring to his manual, he scratched his knife against the bowl’s wide rim, etching something in the soft gold.
“What are you doing?” Gideon asked. He shifted, leaning around me to get a better look.
“Ancient symbols, given to us by the gods long ago. Your first ancestors, Lady Thunder, they gave these glyphs to their most trusted followers. Those men were my ancestors—the first Magicians. Used in the right combinations, these figures act as keys, unlocking things that are usually inaccessible to humankind. In this case, we want to unlock space, time, and knowledge.” He set down his knife and poured water from the pitcher, stopping the instant before it overflowed the bowl’s edges. The water’s surface bulged in a slightly convex curve.
He waved, mumbled something under his breath, and the blue firefly lights dimmed until only a pair of oil lamps illuminated the room. He braced his hands flat on the table on either side of the bowl and leaned forward until his face hovered over the water.
A low, soft hum filled the room, and only after I listened for a while did I realize the sound came from Otokar, although he hadn’t moved his mouth. He hummed from his throat, and the air cooled as he gazed into the water. Frigid mists rose from the bowl and swelled, filling the room until I shivered and my breath came out in visible puffs of condensation. Without breaking his focus on the water, he paused his singing. “Come, Evie. This requires a small sacrifice from you. You are the one who has knowledge of these people. You must give what you know to the Magic.”
Hesitantly I rose and approached him. “How do I do that?”
“Knowledge and memories are carried in the blood. You must give the Magic your blood.”
“No.” Gideon scrambled to his feet.
I raised a hand, stopping him before he uttered another protest. “What are we talking about? A deep flesh wound, an open vein?”
Otoakar huffed. “A mere finger prick should do.”
I waved at Gideon, motioning for him to step back and calm down. “A prick. That’s all?”
The Magician presented his knife to me. “One drop.”
I studied his face, searching for deception, but saw none. Before I could talk myself out of it, I took the knife and pressed the tip against my thumb, gritting my teeth as the blade punctured sensitive skin. A drop of red bloomed from the tiny wound. Otokar gestured toward the water bowl. I squeezed my thumb, and the blood dripped, spreading rings across the water’s taut surface. A pale-red cloud dispersed through the liquid and faded. “What now?” I asked.
Otokar pointed at the pillows as he took position over the bowl and resumed his deep gazing and humming. I sank onto the cushions beside Gideon, sucking my wounded thumb. Several uneventful moments passed, and the little spark of hope in my chest dimmed. Perhaps Otokar’s Magical dealings would result in nothing at all. But a ghostly light blossomed across the water’s surface, highlighting his long nose and strong brow. His singing faded away, and he seemed to freeze like a statue—no breathing, no subtle muscle twitches. I leaned closer to Gideon, bit my lip, and waited.
Time slowed. Shadows deepened. The mists thickened. Then, as if it came from somewhere far away, a shout echoed through the room, followed by laughter, a jeering crowd, horses neighing, a girl giggling. The girl’s laughter reminded me of someone...Malita? How was it possible, hearing her laughter as though she merely stood outside the laboratory door?
I shifted, preparing to see for myself the things that had claimed Otokar’s attention, but Gideon grasped my arm. “Just wait,” he whispered, his attention focused on the Magician.
Otokar thawed from his frozen state, and his eyes flickered. His hand hovered over the water’s surface, and his fingers twitched as though turning pages from a book. He watched a while longer until the distant sounds faded. He blinked, looked up from the bowl, and rubbed his wrist across his eyes.
Sighing, he stepped back from the table as mists dwindled, and the room temperature rose. The urge to ask him to tell me everything burned on my tongue, but Gideon squeezed my arm. I swallowed my questions and waited for the Magician to gather his composure.
He raised a hand and waggled his fingers. The blue firefly lights flickered to life. He went to a small desk, poured the contents of another pitcher into a goblet, and drank it in several huge gulps. Smacking his lips, he folded his hands at his waist and fixed his gaze on me. “I believe I have found your friends.”
Shrugging off Gideon’s grip, I shot to my feet. “Where are they?”
Otokar’s brow furrowed. He wrinkled his nose. “That part is more difficult to say.”
“Difficult?”
“The vision does not show me a map, Evie. The Magic only allows me to see a small piece of a large puzzle. But the details of that piece provide some clues. There was a crowd, and the people were speaking a foreign language. I cannot be certain, but it sounded like a language from the Syrillivic regions—Bluraise, Galgota, Varynga, and so forth.”
“I heard Varyngish.” Gideon rose to stand beside me. “I’m sure of it.”
I blinked at him as if he’d told me he could walk on water. “Is there any language you don’t speak?”
“I don’t speak it.” Gideon huffed. “But I’ve met Varyngan traders a few times in Steinerland. I may have picked up a word or two.”
Languages stuck to him like glue, and I envied his talent. “There must be something you’re bad at. One of these days I’ll find out what that is.”
He folded his arms over his chest and grunted as if to say good luck. I turned to Otokar. “So, the Fantazikes could be somewhere in Varynga. It’s an enormous country, judging by the maps I’ve seen in my father’s study. How are we supposed to find a single pod of peas in a ten-thousand-acre wood?”
He threw hands out at his sides. “Before, you only knew they could be anywhere in the whole world. Now you know what country they are in. Compared to searching for them in hundreds of nations, finding them in one country should be simple, no?”
“Simple?” I shook my head. “Maybe a little less hopeless than before, but not simple.” Even as I said it, plans formed in my head. I could return to the Katedrála z Vzrostl Syn and ask Sister Maria to focus our inquiries on her counterparts in Varynga. “Perhaps the empress has contacts among the royal family in Toksva,” I said, naming the capital city. “Maybe one of them has seen the Fantazikes. They like setting up near big cities. More people means more money.”
Otokar folded his hands and bowed toward me. “I shall be pleased to talk to the empress on your behalf. I will ask her to start an inquiry.”
“Really?” I glanced at Gideon, and his dour expression dampened my enthusiasm. His seriousness reminded me about the hazards of raising my hopes prematurely. I cleared my throat and clasped my hands behind my back, adopting a stiffer posture. “Tell Her Majesty I would be grateful for her assistance.”
Gideon pressed closer to my side, and I interpreted his body language: he was ready to leave. I bobbed a quick curtsey to Otokar and backed away. “I am grateful for your assistance, too.”
The Magician smiled. “It was my pleasure.”
Gideon opened the workroom door and held it for me. “We’ll let you get back to work, Master Otokar.”
He nodded as Gideon drew me into the hallway. “What’s the big rush?” I whispered.
“I don’t care for Magicians,” he muttered. “You got what you came for. There was no reason to linger.”
I scowled at his back as he led me toward our rooms. “I don’t like it when you get bossy.”
“And I don’t like it when you get hurt. Let me do my job.”
I huffed behind him. “I’m going to regret your promotion, aren’t I?”
He tossed a dark look over his shoulder. “The horses are easier to tend than you are, Evie.”
I resisted the urge to blow a raspberry at him, although it would have perfectly summarized my feelings. Instead, we trudged to our rooms in silence. Marlis greeted us the moment we stepped through the door. Excitement radiated from her, and she clutched a stiff, cream-colored card as if it were a trophy. “The empress has invited you to a dinner party tomorrow night.” She presented the card to me. “There will be visiting dignitaries, and she wants you to meet them.”
“Dignitaries?” I said. “I don’t know. It’s bad enough Tereza knows my identity, but to reveal myself to more strangers seems like a big risk.”
“I agree,” Gideon said.
“Did she say where these dignitaries are coming from?” I asked.
“She didn’t, but the servant who brought her invitation said Her Highness thought you would be very interested to meet them. They’re well-connected.”
I turned to Gideon, so I could read his expression. “Maybe she means it’s another avenue to use for finding the Fantazikes. Maybe they’re interested in my claims to the Inselgrish throne.”
He frowned. “Maybe Tereza has ulterior motives, too. You don’t know if you can trust her.”
“Every move we make, short of hiding in the shadows again, has risks.”
“I breathed easier in the shadows.”
“And yet, the empress still found us.”
“You weren’t exactly being quiet.”
I balled a fist. “I can’t reclaim my throne in silence.”
Gideon’s frown deepened into a scowl. “You can’t claim your throne if you’re locked up, broken, or dead, either.”
Perhaps his authoritarian nature inspired my rebellious urges, or perhaps I was tired of playing mouse, skittering around the dark places of the world, trying not to draw attention. We had lived that way for weeks, and it hadn’t helped me or kept me safe. Finding myself, my connection to the storms and thunder and my kingdom, meant stepping into the daylight—it was a tactic we had yet to try. “Hiding has gotten us nowhere. Dangerous or not, I’m willing to make myself known. It might make the difference between merely surviving and truly living. It might be the key to finding my thunder when nothing else has worked.
“I’m going to Tereza’s dinner. I’ll meet these dignitaries and see if they have anything useful to offer. You’ll be there, too, Gideon, playing the role of my personal guard, but I want you to watch and listen and tell me anything you think might help us.” I pointed toward my bedroom. “Marlis, please help me find something appropriate to wear.”
Gideon said nothing as I retreated into my chambers. Moments later, the hallway door opened and banged shut hard enough to make the walls shudder.
I opened the wardrobe. “Your brother has quite the temper.”
Marlis drew up beside me and stared at the collection of jewel-toned fabrics. “Not really. I think you simply have a knack for drawing out his ire.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Knack?”
She smiled. “A talent.” I shook my head and focused on the gowns again. “He’s worried about you. He cares for you and it makes him afraid.”
I snorted but withheld my retort. Not that I had a reply, other than to deny her assertion. She set her jaw, crossed her arms over her chest, and boldly returned my stare. Clearly, she believed her claims, and my own doubts wouldn’t sway her. Perhaps Gideon did care for me on a personal level, but maybe he only wanted to assuage his guilt for betraying me to his uncle.
He’d abandoned his home for me, but what was his ultimate goal? Surely, he wanted something more than bowing at my feet for the rest of his life. Gideon had ambition—of that much I was certain. But to what end?
After nearly half an hour of debate, Marlis and I agreed on a twilight-colored gown, made of a fabric that shimmered in deep cobalt blue and iridescent violet, depending on which way I moved. She set out a pair of long formal gloves and a string of jet beads. The dress’s neckline dipped lower than what I was comfortable wearing, but if I had to spend my evening among Bohnemm’s royalty and foreign dignitaries, I meant to do it as their equal.
With that chore completed, I’d run out of things to do, and my nerves rallied, demanding distraction. Left without a task or chore to occupy my thoughts, my mind wandered, churning my anxiety like the currents in an ocean storm. Got to get out of here before I drive myself crazy. A glance out the window confirmed the day was cloudless and clear—ideal weather for outdoor activity, and riding was the perfect distraction.
“Where are you going?” Marlis asked as I opened the hallway door. She clutched a collection of dresses we had tried on and discarded, and I briefly felt bad for leaving her to tidy my mess. But not bad enough to stay inside a moment longer.
“To check on Adaleiz. Either I haven’t had time to ride her, or I’ve been too exhausted. It’s about time we get some exercise.”
“You should take Gideon with you.”
I collected my Thunder Cloak from where it lay over one of the chairs facing the fireplace. As much as it chided me to admit it, running off without my guardian would’ve been a careless act. I didn’t have to make it easy for him, though. “Fine. Tell your brother I’m riding east. He can catch up to me on the edge of town.”
