Ten minutes later, I sat dry-eyed in Valen’s carriage on our way back to the chateau. We’d ridden in silence so far, and if Valen had his way, we’d probably never talk about what had just happened.
“Do you think he knows about your plan?” I asked.
Valen shifted from where his head had rested contemplatively on his fist. “No.”
His voice was firm. Maybe a little too firm, like he was trying to convince himself. I shot him a skeptical look.
“He may have noticed my… more frequent visits to the palace lately,” Valen admitted after a moment, “and suspected I havesomethingplanned. But he can’t possibly know the details. He’s spying on me in an ill-considered attempt to find out.”
“What does he want? To protect the princess? Or does he hate you and want you thrown in the dungeons?”
“I’ll be executed if I’m caught,” he said carelessly. “And yes, that’s what he wants. He’s jealous of my title. Resents my wealth and popularity. Blames me for our mother’s death. You can take your pick of motives.”
My breath hitched, and I barely registered the last two-thirds of what he’d said. “They’ll execute you? I figured they’d just lock you away.”
His mouth twitched in half a smile, though there was nothing funny about it. “A knight of the realm stealing a cultural treasure that I’m duty-bound to protect? No, they’ll execute me for treason for sure.”
I gaped at him, and he mistook the reason for my shock.
“That won’t happen to you,” he said. “You’re not a member of the Moonlit Court, so treason charges don’t apply.”
“Why the hell are you risking your life for some stupid jewel?”
All traces of humor vanished from his face. “That’s none—”
“None of my concern, yeah.” I crossed my arms. God and Goddess, he was insufferable sometimes. “Well, itismy concern if Drudon rats us out. How likely are people to believe him if he starts blabbing?”
Valen tilted his head thoughtfully. “People know about the bad blood between us. They’ll probably think he’s lying to stir up trouble.”
“But?” I asked, seeing something in his eyes.
“But he works for House Undarvue—they’re a merchant family, very rich and powerful. And their oldest son is betrothed to Princess Regula’s daughter.”
Lunch soured in my stomach. “So most people won’t believe him, but the people who matter might.”
“He has no reason to think my plans involve the princess.”
“Because only the two of us know what you’re planning?”
Valen pressed his lips into a hard line.
Great. Valen had told another person. Maybe dozens of other people. But of course he wouldn’t share the details with me—I was only the cornerstone of the entire heist.
I slumped, sighing. “What does Drudon do for House Undarvue, anyway?”
“He’s a bodyguard, officially. Unofficially, I suspect he deals with their enemies in back alleys with a knife, but I’ve never been able to prove it.”
And this charming fellow was stalking us. Lovely.
“You don’t have to worry about him, Emmeline,” Valen said softly, as if reading my thoughts. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
His gaze seemed to trap mine, and the carriage felt suddenly smaller. If I shifted slightly, our knees would brush. I remembered our kiss, the exhilarating feeling of his body against me. Just the memory sparked desire, threatening to rekindle a fire within me that had diminished to a smolder but not completely gone out. The sensation of his lips on mine… I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to. I’d still dream about it when I was old and gray.
But it had been an act, and I had no reason to believe the tender protectiveness in his eyes now was any more real.
“Mm,” I said, and looked out the window to avoid those lying eyes.
Maybe Valen would protect me. He needed me alive to steal the jewel, after all. But I couldn’t see him risking any real danger for me. Like all fey men, he only truly cared about himself, and he probably had a back-up plan for stealing the jewel if something happened to me. I tried to picture him defending me like a chivalrous knight out of my mother’s stories… An enticing dream, but it was like a glass sculpture: beautiful but too fragile to last long in the harsh world.
