She bowed—deeply—as if the floor might swallow her whole, and hurried off with her gaze locked firmly to the tiles.
Lord Mera turned back to him with that same crooked grin. “Forgive her, she’s new. We try to offer opportunities where we can, of course.”
“I can see that,” Alaric said, his voice mild, but dry enough to parch. “You speak to her like she’s a trained hound.”
Mera hesitated. “Ah—well. She’s from the low quarter,” he said lightly, as if that explained everything. “Good girl, though. Eager to learn.”
“Mm,” Alaric murmured. “Interesting teaching method.”
There was a pause. Mera straightened, smile still fixed, but thinner now. “One must maintain a certain order, Your Highness. Otherwise—chaos.”
“Funny. I’ve always found that people use ‘order’ to explain things they don’t want to feel guilty about.”
Mera didn’t respond immediately. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, then chuckled as if a joke had been made.
Alaric didn’t believe in miracles. But the moment he spotted Ravik emerging from the far end of the corridor, he was willing to reconsider.
The Grand Marshal moved with his usual rigid grace, flanked by the High Preceptor of Orvath, whose bald head caught the flicker of the wall torches like polished marble. The man was glowing, though Alaric couldn’t decide if it was divine light or just an unholy reflection.
What a joyful pair, Alaric thought dryly.
Still, it was better than being trapped in another half-hour lecture on the symbolic resonance of freyara petals.
He lifted a hand in greeting. “Marshal Ravik. High Preceptor. What a welcome coincidence.”
The two men approached with the reluctance of men already regretting the next five minutes. Ravik’s eyes flicked immediately to Lord Mera, whose smile widened.
“Your Highness,” Ravik said, offering a crisp, shallow bow. As he straightened, his eyes flicked sideways to where Cedric was examining his nails. The Preceptor gave a stiff incline of his head. He did not smile. Alaric wasn’t sure the man could.
“We were discussing the finer details of the wedding,” Alaric said, injecting just enough weariness into the wordfinerto make it sound like a disease.
“How fortunate,” Ravik murmured. “It must be important.”
Lord Mera, oblivious or pretending to be, turned to them with bright enthusiasm. “Then you’ll be thrilled to hear Iam extending an invitation to the gentlemen’s club tomorrow evening.” He beamed. “You must come.”
Alaric felt a sigh bloom somewhere behind his eyes.Gods help me, it gets worse.
“I’m a priest,” the Preceptor said flatly, as if Mera had suggested he host a brothel in the cathedral. “And I also fast.”
Alaric resisted the urge to thank the man for his piety.
“Regrettably, I have matters to attend to. But the prince—” Ravik turned, meeting Alaric’s gaze just a beat too long, “—surely has time. I’ve heard he’s been gifted with an abundance of free hours.”
“I’m flattered by how closely you keep track of my schedule, Marshal.”
Ravik wasn’t a fool. If anything, the man was irritatingly perceptive. He knew Alaric was sniffing around. Maybe he hadn’t pinned down what yet, but the scent was there.
Alaric, of course, loved alibis. Loved laying the polite bricks of a lie with just enough truth between them to make them unshakable. And tomorrow, he had plans—real ones. Plans involving a discreet detour into the tunnel beneath Orvath’s chapel.
So the club wasn’t a burden. If anything, it was a gift.
He’d stop in. Flash a grin. Let half the nobility see him accept a drink and listen to Lord Mera describe the emotional significance of orchid placement. And when someone inevitably asked where the prince had been that night, they’d say—with great certainty—“The prince was at the gentlemen’s club.”
A perfect cover. Almost too easy.
Alaric tucked that knowledge into his pocket and turned once more to Lord Mera. “A generous offer,” he said with practiced charm. “Let me see if my schedule survives it.”
Lord Mera clasped his hands together, clearly pleased with himself. “Wonderful,” he said. “I shall see to the preparationsmyself. Though I must find that lazy girl first. Gentlemen.” He drifted off in a cloud of fragrance and silk.
