“What about this?” Astril pulled something from the depths of a basket and held up a deep purple tunic large enough to fitthree of me. It might suit a troll, but it was too long for Vale. “Tuck it in and then pull it out a bit to the right length?”
Yrsa assessed the item. “That might be our best bet. Try it, Vale.”
My mate stripped off his shirt, giving everyone a peek at his tattooed chest and the daggers hanging off each hip. Swords would have been too obvious, so we’d leftSkeldaand Sassa’s Blade in Myrr.
Vale pulled the tunic on, and it billowed around him comically before he tucked the ends into his waistband. Going to him, I eased the tunic out, flattening the material best I could while leaving the ends tucked in to make it look like it was the appropriate length.
“I’m sorry that we’re missing your official dinner, Force.”
“This is far more important.”
He kissed me on the forehead.
“Good enough. Isolde, grab that basket of clean clothing.” Yrsa pointed to a basket filled with laundry folded inside as she hefted one of her own. “Stuff the cloaks at the bottom of these baskets so we have them nearby if we need them later. If you haven’t already, now is the time to slip the daggers into your boot sheaths.”
I did as Yrsa commanded and hefted a basket filled with linens. The fresh scent stuffed its way up my nose as I crossed to the door. We hid the cloaks beneath the clean laundry, and positioned our weapons before slipping back into the corridor.
“You’re sure you know the way?” My stomach felt like it was full of frostflies, despite making it this far and having acquired the proper disguises. All that was left was to find the queen and leave, hopefully as quietly as we’d arrived.
My optimistic heart told me it was possible. Experience disagreed.
“I used to date a nymph who lived here. A sleigh driver,” Yrsa said. “He showed me around the servants’ quarters and above, when the high lady was not around, of course. Once, I saw a deranged criminal being brought in. You could hear him kicking and screaming through the halls. Later, I asked what they did with him and when I learned he’d been taken to solitary, I wanted to see the dungeons. My boyfriend thought I was crazy, but you never know when being familiar with the innards of a castle would come in handy.”
Stars, did I know. The night we’d fled Avaldenn, my knowledge of the hidden parts of Frostveil had been the only thing to save me, and probably Vale too, from a vampire’s fangs.
Yrsa’s continued confidence eased my nerves, and we fell in line behind her down the corridor, pausing only when Qildor spied a partially open closet and extracted a broom, another prop. Reaching the T at the end without incident, Yrsa peeked around the corner and gave the all-clear signal, and we continued down a shorter hallway that ended in a stairwell. She paused there, turned.
“We won’t be too far from the grand hall.”
Where Lady Ithamai was said to be hosting a gathering to honor the king and prince. She’d invited many of the lesser nobles and wealthy merchants in the city. Or so Geiravor’s connections around Grindavik had claimed.
“Don’t look about while we walk.” Yrsa inhaled deeply, as if to prepare herself for putting on a show. “You work here. This is normal.”
“Ah yes, we rescue queens from dungeons daily,” Qildor muttered.
Up the steps we went, and upon exiting on the next floor. We allowed a few paces between each of us, as though we were five servants going the same way, but not together. As we walked, I performed a casual sweep of the area, trying to get my bearings.Even if I hadn’t already known whose castle I was in, I’d have guessed the ladies of House Ithamai lived here.
Seated lions carrying scales of justice on their backs line the hallways. Compared to other castles I’d been in, there were few paintings and tapestries. Lady Ithamai appeared to be a minimalist, and when I thought back to the few times that I’d seen the Warden of the East, she’d always dressed in her house colors, with perhaps a lion to honor her house, but few other embellishments.
I turned a corner and scowled as Hadia and Adila Ithamai, the two blonde heiresses to the great house, came into view, strutting our way, dressed in gowns of deep purple.
Adila’s face was pinched with annoyance. “Why do you think I don’t have a chance with Prince Rhistel?”
“Because I’m trying to woo him!” Hadia replied as though that were all too obvious. “Mother is well in the king’s good graces. This is the perfect time to plant the idea of uniting our houses.”
“You’re engaged to Luccan Riis.” Adila spat out my friend’s name like it was a bad word.
“The king won’t make me wed him any longer. His father is a traitor, and our house is loyal to the Crown of Winter.” Hadia gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
Yrsa had passed the sisters. Qildor was next, then me. Although my instinct told me to look down, I found myself captivated by their conversation. They’d always been horrible to me, going as far as to chase and threaten me one night, but in that moment they merely sounded like sisters. Or perhaps I was just shocked that someone would even want to marry Rhistel.
“And besides,” Hadia continued, “everyone knows the prince likes his females with more meat on their bones.” As if to drive the point home, she did a little shimmy and her large breasts jiggled.
“Oh?” Adila did not seem amused. “Does he plan to eat you and all that meat?”
“I should hope so. Imagine having a husband who did not like tofeast?!”
Caught off guard, I nearly snorted in laughter. I stopped myself just in time, but not all the way and the oddest sound came out. Like a sneeze mixed with a yawn. The sisters, three paces away, shifted their gazes to lock on me.
