Had he followed me from the palace? He must have, right? But then he already knew the boy, so he must have been there before. Maybe meeting the boy was the business he had in the city. The alleyway where he’d found me was near the palace, after all.
What was the boy doing for him then, really? Or any of the shadow-born? Why would he meet with them in disguise? Didn’t he have spies for that?
And thedisguise. It had been so convincing. The injuries had been so real. They couldn’t possibly have been a mask or makeup. I’ve never seen anything that convincing in any traveling show or theatre, although admittedly, I haven’t seen many.
His hand was soft. It was soft when it was on my lips just moments ago. It was soft when he took my hand to lead methrough the crowded market, when I took his hand to lead him from the mob that wanted to hang him for cheating at cards and declining a duel.
It looked scratched and scarred, but it was soft.
His light magic? Was his appearance a trick of the light?
And, oh gods, nowonderthe boy was barely hurting when he healed him. He used light, not nature.
The warmth I’d felt near him. The safety despite every sign pointing to danger, the comfort.
That damned light magic got me again.
I’ve made it back to the door to the palace, but I hesitate. It may not always be unguarded. And what if this is the door he used? Where is he? He must be nearby.
He didn’t head in the direction of the palace. Maybe he did truly have someone he was meant to meet in the city.
I feel his eyes on me.
I turn to look, but no one is there.
This is terrible. What is he playing at? Did he spend the entire day with me because of my feelings when we met? Is he trying to get information out of me?
Had I offered him any?
I don’t think so. I’d talked a bit about Seth and Adria, but I didn’t tell him anything about our plans.
Was anything he said to me true?
I walk along the wall until I find a public entrance, the enormous iron gates hanging wide open and revealing a torchlit path up the hill to the palace.
There are guards at the gate, but one of them recognizes me from earlier.
“I got lost trying to find the baths,” I explain. “And then I went to the market to find a mask for the festival ball.”
“Did you find one?” the guard asks. I’m suspiciously lacking a box, I realize.
“No,” I say. “The vendor wouldn’t sell to me.”
“I know the man,” says the other guard. She’s a woman around my age with a pleasant smile. “Try Ibis Street. It’s on the way down to the docks.”
“Thank you, I will.”
I’m surprised by their kindness. I’m sure most of Ronan’s guards fought in the war, and I’d expected them to still hold a grudge against us. They must have been instructed to be accommodating.
As I walk through the labyrinthine palace corridors towards our rooms—or in the direction I think our rooms are in, I haven’t been this way and have to stop for directions twice—I realize that Ronan may not know thatIknow about his disguise.
That could be something. And the fact that he can disguise his appearance is something too. It’s a far more valuable piece of information than the location of his rooms or the hidden exit to the palace.
I also realize that Ronan was about to kiss me. What was his plan then? If he’d done so, surely I would have noticed that his face wasn’t scarred.
I doubt my conclusion for the first time. The wink had been so much like Ronan’s though. Same brown eye, same expression on his face, even under all the scarring. His hair was concealed under his hat, but what I could see of it was brown, like Ronan’s. Soren had a hunched back, and he walked with something of a limp, but the limp had all but vanished when we ran away from the gamblers. If he’d straightened his back, he could’ve been as tall as Ronan.
And the muscles of his body, the muscles I’d felt when he was pressed against me.
