Jules led Younn back into the crowd of soldiers and townsfolk.
“Anything?” Meena whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Nothing,” Sol responded.
“Nothing?” Meena repeated, her heart falling. “Nothing at all?”
“Some small things. I know where the prison cells are. Those would be an ideal location for security, but I don’t think Gareth would want his precious cargo in close proximity to prisoners he didn’t trust. I still don’t have any idea where it could be. Our dear general and captain were quite close lipped and annoyed that I had followed them.” He smirked a little at that.
Meena slipped her hand inside his arm. “That is not nothing,” she said. “Every little bit of information gets us closer.”
“It’s not enough.” Sol’s face went back to its stoic mask.
“The night is not over yet,” Meena replied.
“The Goldenreign Feast is tomorrow,” Sol said.
“We can do it on a different night, then,” Meena replied. “The Goldenreign Feast is an ideal time, but it is not the only time.”
“I am concerned about Younn’s presence,” Sol whispered.
Meena stood on tiptoe, bringing her ear closer to Sol’s mouth to hear him better.
“He and Jules have not yet spoken about why he is here,” Sol continued.
“Then follow them,” Meena said.
Sol nodded, his eyes watching the two men they spoke of.
Meena followed his gaze to see Jules, goblet in hand, introducing the councilor to several of his higher ranked soldiers on the other side of a table of food.
“I’ll follow them if they leave to speak in private.” Sol stepped backward, hiding in the shadow of the thick sandstone wall surrounding the city.
Disappointed to see him go, Meena reached out and grabbed his wrist. Touching his hand still felt too intimate. “Try not to think about it,” she whispered.
“Think about what?” he whispered back down at her.
“The eyes. So many eyes.” Meena grinned at her own jest, recalling Sol’s comment at their wedding.
Sol smirked the tiniest smile. “Well, now I’m thinking about it,” he muttered.
As Sol melted into the shadows, Meena turned her attention to the lively bailey.
Tables of food lined the sandy ground. Lit torches along the wall shed a pleasant glow on the smiling faces. The center of the space was left empty, Meena assumed for dancing or festivities as the night grew on.
She wiggled her toes in her satin slippers. The room was filled with so many people. People she had never met, or communicated with, or danced with. Sol might be overwhelmed, but she felt a part of her heart sing with excitement. This, she could do. And enjoy.
And by keeping the attention off of her husband, she could give him a chance to observe what he needed to.
“Princess,” an older man called as he approached her. His well tailored doublet was decorated with embroidered symbols denoting his impressive rank. “I have not seen you since you were a little girl.”
Meena smiled warmly. She had no memory of meeting the Falqri soldier, but she’d spent her life meeting important people. “My father sends his regards.” King Frederich had done no such thing, but mentioning her father was the easiest way to appease important people whom she did not remember.
The soldier held out his hand. “Dance with me and tell me the news from Iseldis?” he asked.
Meena smiled, dropping her hand into his. Sol was on her mind, but she had to remember he naturally was quiet and sneaky, like a real cypher. He would do better without her drawing attention to them. Laughing, she let herself be carried away into the dance.
After chatting with the older soldier, Meena took a moment to herself, searching the room for Sol.
