He shook his head.“Spiking a drink belonging to the royal family, or any diplomat, is a serious crime, even if it’s only a love potion.I’m not sure how much this Athello man believes her, but they’re giving her the benefit of the doubt.She won’t hang, but they’ve sentenced her to a year in prison.”
“A year?”I brought my hand up to my mouth in horror.“She won’t make it that long.I’m sure she’s about to lose her sanity in there as it is.Are they transporting her?”
He shrugged.“I don’t know, but we can’t take a chance on that.She’s a foreigner.They’re going to send word to whatever country she told them.When they can’t confirm her existence, we’ve got a major problem.A year’s sentence will be the least of her worries.”
I stepped away, trying to process everything at once.We couldn’t leave her to rot in that prison, nor could we let her stay down there long enough for them to figure out who she was—or wasn’t.
“He’s going to want to know what kind of drug she used and who she bought it from,” Desmond said.
“It’s a love potion,” I scoffed.“It isn’t real.”
He lifted an eyebrow.“If this man could detect it, I’m sure he doesn’t think it was a love potion.He would know it was something different, something real, and she can only bluff for so long.”
He was right.I stared out the window, people moving around in the courtyard like ants.I brought my eyes back to his.“We have to break her out.”
My words fell like a death sentence, heavy and final.
“Yes,” he agreed.“But how?I’ve never seen a dungeon guarded so heavily.”
I looked at the dress I had planned to wear next, a flashy red with sparkling trim.“Then we go when the guards will be more preoccupied.The fourth ball is tomorrow night.That’s more than enough time for us to organize a plan.”
“We’ll be noticed.”
I smiled.“Not if they can’t remember.”I cocked an eyebrow.“Did you bring any Hrakka powder?”
He grinned.“I didn’t, but if I know Nadiyah, she stashed away at least twenty pounds of it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Valeris
The fourth ball, toput it nicely, was more boring than watching grass grow.Nothing exciting ever happened here.Everyone ooed and ahhed at the elaborate food and decorations, but the gist of the ball was that everyone sat in circles, joined different groups, and talked to one another all night telling bold stories.A way to find your posse, so to speak.Learn someone’s darkest secrets and figure out what they were really made of.
And it was all a load of crap.
Everything people spewed from their mouths was diseased with lies, an attempt to make them look better than they really were.The only reason anyone attended was to tell tall tales.I’d had fun five years ago, but my time for spinning fantastic tales was over.
