He shared a knowing look with Lyssara.
Lyssara had noticed it too. The way his attention never entirely left Essie. The way his stance shifted to block lines of approach without conscious thought. She didn’t comment. Warriors rarely did when they recognized something dangerous forming.
Luna—the information queen—knew Essie’s identity. Vorrik… they would explain it to him later.
The room felt sour. They all wanted Essie to confide in them. But they would wait until she was ready.
For now, their goal was simple: keep Essie safe. She was theirs after all. And they would always protect their own, no matter the past—or whatever enemies followed.
17
Lucy
How to begin a journey: pack lightly, panic heavily.
Lucy and Basil had barely three hours before departure. It was a whirlwind of frantic packing, hushed planning, and dodging overly curious guards. Luckily, they had anticipated the king’s panic and prepared most of their belongings the night before.
The palace had always made Lucy itchy.
Not literally—though the laundry starch certainly didn’t help—but the kind of itch that settled beneath the skin when something was wrong and no one was fixing it. The walls watched. The guards listened. And the silence pressed in like it expected obedience in return.
Esther had gone quiet here. Smaller.
Lucy had noticed it years ago. The way Esther’s shoulders drew inward after lessons. The way her laughter thinned when specific halls swallowed sound. Lucy hadn’t known how to fix it then. She only knew she would never let it happen without witnesses again.
If the palace wanted obedience, it would get resistance instead. Lucy had never been noble enough to be protected by reputation. She survived by being inconvenient to remove.
Lucy had one last critical task before she set out on her princess-chasing journey.
The sun hung bright and merciless overhead, painting the white palace stones in blinding gold. It made her miss seeing her own gold.
Most guards were either stationed or clattering around the training yard, their shouts echoing through the corridors. Perfect.
Lucy slipped into the servants’ quarters, the air thick with the scent of unwashed linens, starch, and old soap. Her pockets bulged with peppers she’d ground into a vicious paste that burned even through cloth. She inhaled. The sharp, vinegary sting pricked her nose like fire.Excellent.
Lucy preferred deterrents to weapons. Weapons escalated. Deterrents humiliated. A guard who couldn’t sit, walk, or breathe comfortably would think twice before overstepping again. Pain taught faster than lectures.
Guards liked to pretend they were neutral. Lucy knew better. They protected titles, not people. They followed orders, not instincts.
Neutrality was a luxury afforded to those who never suffered the consequences of inaction. Lucy had seen guards look the other way while Esther cried herself hoarse behind closed doors. Pretending not to see was still a choice.
Esther had learned to smile at them.
Lucy had learned exactly how much pepper it took to ruin a man’s dignity without leaving permanent damage.
She smeared pepper juice generously into all the garments she could find: drawers dangling from lines, stacks of folded shirts, even the captain’s prized woolen socks. Nothing was safe from her wrath. The fabric absorbed the spicy oil instantly, releasing an aroma so potent that her eyes watered.
“May your next shift be lively,” Lucy whispered as she rubbed the final smear into sweat-stained underwear.
Then came step two. She tiptoed between bunk beds, the air growing mustier. One by one, she gently tucked slivers of poison ivy into pillows, careful not to touch the oils.
A faint, earthy, bitter scent rose from the leaves. “It’s what you deserve,” she muttered. “For ignoring her. For letting her be lonely.”
A flash of heartache pricked her. Esther had deserved so much better than these cold hallways and colder people.
Even Baroness Levon—the Cuckoo Bird—was better than them.
At least the Baroness had hovered. Hovering meant noticing. Lucy would take awkward concern over polished neglect any day.
