“I want to go home,” I say suddenly.
Aileen glances back at the place where he stood. “I saw him too,” she says, breathless. “Who was that?”
“The Broker,” I answer quietly.
Her eyes widen. “The Broker?” Awe creeps into her voice. “I’ve heard so much about him. I never imagined he’d be so…handsome. And mysterious. I think I’d love to make a deal with him, just once,” she giggles. Yes, she’s clearly had too much to drink.
Her excitement only deepens my unease. “What would he be doing here?” shecontinues. “Do you think the King summoned him? That would be strange, wouldn’t it? Charles is still away.”
I don’t answer.
Because I know he is not here for the King.
He is here for my father.
A memory surfaces: my father’s office, the heavy scent of ink and wax, my breath held as I listened from the shadows. The Broker’s voice, smooth and measured, remarking that I was too young, too innocent. The words had stung at the time.
Now, I understand what he meant.
As we make our way home through the dim streets, that strange, familiar feeling settles once more in my stomach. A quiet, growing certainty that I no longer know who it is I need protection from.
Chapter 10
As I return to my chamber, a letter is waiting for me on my pillow. Quickly changing out of my dress and into something more comfortable, I jump onto the bed and eagerly open the letter.
My dearest daughter,
I trust this letter finds you well. It gladdens my heart to hear that the long winter months are drawing to an end in your part of the kingdom as well. Here at home, spring has already taken hold. Our apple trees are in full bloom, and their blossoms are as beautiful as ever.
Do not trouble yourself over not being with child yet. Your time as a mother will come when it is meant to. The King already has an heir, so there is no cause for you to place such pressure upon yourself. I confess I have worried, having not heard from you in some time, and I hope my letters have reached you safely. I must keep this one brief, as your father insists on carrying it to Acheron himself and grows impatient with my lingering, as you well know.
I do hope to visit you soon. I long to see the magnificent woman and Queen, I am certain you have become.
Be careful, my darling, and know that you are dearly missed.
Your loving mother
Tears blur my vision, this is the first letter I have received from my mother since Christmas. And it was delivered by my father himself, so he must be near. The ache in my chest takes me by surprise. My father and I had never been particularly close, but to know that he is here, even if he only made the journey to pull information out of me, makes me happier than I thought I would be.
There is no note from my father, though. I turn the letter around to look for any hidden instructions, and feel something light touching my naked foot.
A small purple flower, half-dried and wilted.
The herb garden.
* * *
I move quickly to my wardrobe, grabbing a long cloak and a pair of fresh slippers. I tie my hair back without bothering to brush it; after all, my father is not here in any official capacity. Closing the bedroom door softly behind me, I slip into the endless hallways of the palace.
Guards stand posted at various intersections, but I manage to avoid them; the months I’ve spent wandering these corridors finally pay off. When I reach the lowest level—where the entrance to the gardens lies—I slow my pace. I’ve only ever seen the gardens once, when fresh snow had blanketed the grounds, and Aileen convinced me to run outside and make snow angels.
I stop in front of a heavy wooden door and press my ear against it. Wind rushes faintly on the other side, a low, hollow swoosh. This must be it, the door leading outside.
Just as I reach for the bolt, something shifts behind me.
A hand clamps over my mouth, and I’m yanked backward into a solid chest. I try to scream, but no sound escapes me—not even a muffled cry. Panic floods my limbs as I struggle, but the grip holding me is unyielding. In one swift motion, my captor pulls me into a dark room, closing the door with careful precision. His hand loosens just enough for me to breathe.
I try to scream. Nothing comes out.
