“You said I owed you, didn’t you? Besides,” Janus continued. “You’re my dance tutor. I’ll need your help at the ball.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Talon said, offering to take her horse into the stable. Janus gladly passed him Taniyn’s reins.
The odor of animals was just horrific. Talon’s home city of Clodia smelled sterile and dry, with a hint of salt on the sea breeze. Altanbern had smelled of soil thus far, with a hint of pine. This stable housed every scent known to man from the southern sea to the northern mountains of Dragosi. A collage of culture, collected in horse shit.
Pinching his nose after paying the stable boy to take care of the rest, Talon escaped the stables and rejoined Janus. Most people gathered here were merchants or tourists, and the sight of an armed guard clued them to the presence of nobility. It wasn’t hard to cleave a path to the city proper’s gates, not with Janus’ guards protectively circling her.
Janus tapped the first broad, stone step. Grinning to herself about something, she trotted alongside Talon. “How’s your Altanese?”
“Alright.” Talon lied. He was fluent. “Enough to escort you wherever you need.”
“I’m terrible at it,” Janus admitted.
“Don’t worry. Most nobles, at least, understand Imperial common.”
Several Altanese guards stood at the top of the stairs, patrolling another set of gates. The street flattened beyond it, sprawling to the west, north, and east. Men and women watched the incoming crowd like hawks from their perches on the guard towers, their chests bound in tight leather, and their backs concealed by white-fur cloaks. Red tweed wrapped their waists and fell to either side of their greaves. Gaevral members.
Janus smiled insincerely at the guardsmen, her eyes focusing on the red tweed they wore. Yellow tweed marked members of the Kahn tribe, and green marked members of the Esseg. They stuck together in groups, rarely associating with the other clans.
Talon watched in concern as Janus’s head swiveled to take everything in. One step into the city and she’d already begun to veer offcourse. Hovering a hand behind her, Talon gently pushed her back on track whenever something caught her eye.
The city of Weisskopf was almost unbearably crowded, even by Clodia’s standards. The chatter of the crowd suffocated the air, drowning out Talon’s own thoughts. If any of the voices spoke to him, he could not hear them.
One, two, three. Talon kept count of how many times Janus bumped into someone. She collided with a merchant stall on the fourth, and nearly fell off a ledge on the fifth. Talon was already exhausted, and the ball had yet to begin.
God’s help him.
Another flight of thick, broad stairs brought them to the palace district. Suites for visiting nobles clustered on orderly streets of paved stone and planted trees. Red leaves scattered over the porch of Janus’ designated room.
Touching Janus’ shoulder, Talon entered first. Kalid nodded at him, holding back the princess.
Grabbing the pommel of his dagger, Talon crept into the quiet hall and pushed open every door. Fresh linens had been laid out for the guests, a kettle and box of tea leaves sat on the kitchen counter, and provisions filled the cabinet.
But it was empty of hidden assassins. Relieved, Talon returned to the others and waved them in.
Nervous, Janus stuck to his side, fingers trembling on her bag. “Um. You can stay wherever you’d like.”
“I’ll take the parlor, then.” Talon smiled, squeezing her shoulder.
While Janus’s attendant helped her set down her trunk and settle in, Talon slipped into the parlor and dropped his bag. Taking a breath, he leaned against the wall and pushed aside the pale yellow curtains to peer onto the street below. A perfect view of the palace was framed within the glass, an ancient stone building whose spires touched the sky.
The door swung open and quickly closed, and Kalid hurried to Talon’s side. “Are you sure you want to stay here? We could always arrange another room.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I think my company makes Janus feel better.”
“It does. And I wouldn’t mind another pair of eyes.”
“If assassins lurk nearby, I’ll find them,” Talon promised.
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” Kalid offered a brisk bow before he knelt beside the hearth and lit a fire. Once it breathed to life and warmth spread across the room, he departed, leaving the door ajar.
With even the girl’s guards on his side, learning everything about the Thuatian royals would be child’s play. She’d even secured him a place at the ball.
Talon shifted uneasily as he watched the fire grow, one hand reaching under his collar as a burning itch pricked at his neck. Feeling like he would suffocate, he pulled off his coat and threw it over the armchair before loosening his vest and undershirt. Staring out the window, he breathed deeply, calming himself.
“Not a bad little room.” Janus mosied through the door. “I feel bad for throwing you on the couch, though.”
“Better than paying for a crowded, cheap inn.” Talon shrugged. “I’ll take a royal couch any day over that.”
