And what had I done but hold her close, take her dancing, and tease her at the baths?
“You . . .” My mouth went dry, and I swallowed. “You said you wouldn’t be that woman to me. But you already are.”
Her lips parted in surprise at my sudden declaration. Slowly, her mouth shifted into a smile. “If I stab you, would that change your mind?”
“Not in the way you’d hope.”
Chuckling, she tucked a loose curl behind her ear and looked down.
Percy cleared his throat, reminding us of his presence. “Take a look, your princeliness.”
Remembering the purpose of this charade, I stepped in front of the mirror.
Oh, gods. What had they done to me?
An elaborate golden collar rested on my shoulders, pressing down the silken black tunic that cut in a V down to my belt. One sleeve was rolled up, displaying the winged tattoo, while the other was bound by an embroidered bracer, fit with a hidden blade.
Percy had chopped off more hair than he’d let on—it barely brushed my shoulders and looked . . .fartoo tidy. A golden circlet of feathers rested on my brow—nearly a match for the one my mother had worn.
I looked . . .
Noble.
“It needs a cape,” Percy decided, turning back to the pile of clothes slung over the bed.
“I like it,” Aethra said, grinning. “No, Iloveit. You look dashing.”
Setting a cloak on my shoulders, Percyleaned in. “The princess has given her approval. I’m afraid it’s final.”
Sighing, I glanced at the mirror. Scarlet eyes stared back.
My father’s eyes.
“Well,” I exhaled. “Let’s go start a war.”
21
Aethra
Icouldn’t take my eyes off Seth. Percy had worked magic on him, erasing the shadowy assassin and sculpting a prince in his place. Percy had suggested a crimson cloak to match his eyes, but Seth had chosen a royal purple.
His mother’s colors.
The innkeeper hung a lantern on the basement wall as Seth rolled out a map on the table. Percy stood proudly by his side, like an artist showing off his latest work. Eleos, Seraphim, and Phaedrus joined us, the redheaded siblings standing on opposite sides of the table, while Eleos joined my side.
“Wow,” he murmured. “Percy did a good job.”
“I thought you were going to say something sarcastic,” I whispered back.
“I’m perfectly capable of honesty,” Eleos said. “Haven’t I paid you plenty of compliments?”
“Yes,me. Not Seth.”
“Set,” he corrected, wearing a half-smirk.
A canvas appeared on the wall, and Cerysstepped from the painting, disguised by a turban and dirty cloak. A young man walked at her side—the same I’d seen with Ainwir in the market. The one who’d murdered a tax collector.
Standing straight, I quickly examined him. Perhaps seventeen years old, he had an unremarkable face, light brown curls, and matching eyes. The perfect person to slip into a crowd; the kind Ainwir would train.
