With a sigh, she descended into the basement of the palace. The laundry rooms and the baths were in the same place, no amount of shuffling around could move those. She first slunk to the room where the clean laundry was folded and stored to be taken upstairs by the maids. Time was a luxury, and so was choice; she didn’t want to be caught borrowing clothes and interrogated by the head laundress who would surely see through her excuses better than any guard. The simple, pale-yellow linen dress folded on a shelf near the door would suffice—no fancy embroidery or lace someone would make fuss about. And a light chemise, a little worn and mended a few times. She didn’t have to look highborn, just decent.
Liana folded the clothes into a tight bundle and rushed to the servants’ communal bath. In the changing room, she slipped out of her riding gear, leaving it in a messy heap on the shelf, too unappealing for anyone to pilfer, and grabbed a clean towel and a sponge. The silver medallion lay between her breasts, and she touched it with the tips of her fingers for luck before entering the steaming pool room, where two girls soaked in the warm water, chatting.
The stones were pleasantly warm under her feet as she walked to the cubicles in the back, where buckets of hot and cold water and bars of lavender-scented soap waited for those who needed a more vigorous wash. She scrubbed her skin until it turned pink and rinsed every last speck of dust out of her hair. She wrapped it in a towel, trying to squeeze out as much water as possible, andcombed it with a wooden comb. She didn’t have enough time to let it dry—that took hours—but she braided it and wrapped the braid around her head to prevent it from dripping on her clothes.
The linen dress fit her loosely and barely reached to her ankles, but at least it was clean and pretty. With much regret, Liana left her sturdy riding boots in the changing room and borrowed a pair of leather sandals which were about her size.
A small circle of polished metal serving as a mirror told her she was as beautiful as always, her divine blood making her look not a day over twenty—the curse and blessing of the children of gods, who did not age, but faded away at the end of their long lives. For a lonely girl raised among the hunters of Till, it had been a liability. It meant she had learned to fight men off when she was twelve and still pretend to be grateful and humble, careful not to provoke them into rage.
Liana sighed and grabbed a basket of clean towels—if she kept her head down and looked busy, she might be mistaken for some lady’s companion and left alone.
Using the hidden servants’ staircase, she climbed to the second floor. A large arched corridor opened on the one side, overlooking the main yard. From there, doors led to a labyrinth of interconnected chambers. The colorful terrazzo floor echoed the gentle tap of her sandals. It was quiet here and the few sleepy guards paid no attention to the lonely girl.
She walked to a guard in the blue royal livery and, eyes cast down, she said, “Could you please help me? I think I’m lost.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I have to deliver something to Prince Amron’s chambers.”
“Through this door, turn left, and you’ll get to the next guard. Wait.” He stopped her when she tried to slip beside him. “Let me see that basket.” He stuck his hand in, and when he found only soft fabric, he nodded. “Alright, go.”
In the palace she knew, the rooms she now entered were reserved for high guests, and usually closed off. Their large windows overlooked the city and colorful floral tapestries covered their walls. They always made her think of summer meadows and disappointed her with their odor of wool and dust instead of the sweet scent of flowers.
She ran over the soft carpets and polished wood to the next guarded door. “Delivery for Prince Amron’s chambers,” she said.
“Wait,” the guard said, peered through the door and called for someone.
A moment later, a sleepy, irritable chamberlain appeared at the door. “Towels? What am I supposed to do with towels? I sent for his shirts.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but the mistress gave me this—”
The chamberlain grabbed the basket. “I’ll take it. Go tell Mistress Sariza to send me those shirts.” And he slammed the door into her face.
“Do you want something else?” The guard smirked.
She turned on her heel. She didn’t get in, but now she knew where he was. She retraced her steps to an empty room with red poppies and blue irises on the wall and found a hidden door behind the tapestry. A narrow corridor between the panels led to a small study, empty and dark. She opened the window and slipped to the balcony which connected to the next room. The bedroom.
One large window was open to let the morning breeze in. She thought he’d be asleep at this hour, but as she approached the sill, words floated out, spoken by the deep, smooth voice she knew so well.
“Did you get the protocol for today? We start off together, and then I must join my brother, receiving the guild masters, then lunch with the councilors and the ambassadors. In the afternoon, you’re with the queen. In the evening, Amril has his…thing, and I must be there.”
She dared to peer in. In the hazy light, his face was younger than she’d ever seen it, without a single line of worry or pain the war would etch on it. He sat in a high-backed chair, frowning at a sheet of paper, his long limbs tucked at sharp angles, sunlight dancing in his hair.
A wave of yearning hit her so hard her knees buckled.
“Amron,” she whispered.
“Amron,” echoed another voice, “I’m sure you’ve already memorized it. Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.”
A young woman in a sunflower-yellow gown appeared behind him, thin and raven-haired, standing in her own pool of darkness, like a wisp of the night that had forgotten to retreat before the morning sun.
“I hope I’ll see you tonight, before I leave with Amril,” he said, rising and offering her his hand.
“I don’t know when my father plans to arrive.” She took his hand.
Together, they left the room.
• • •
