Page 65

Now, the castle only brings to mind the chill of the north.

I stand at the edge of the village between it and the castle, the night air condensing in front of me.

It’s late, but the taverns are still open, and there are always extra hours for the pumpkin ale brewed up here in the north.

Off in the distance, there is the wail and groan of the fighting trees. Hopefully, Bayla has taken care of the cursed oak, but I’m not here for trees.

I don’t bother with the performance of entering the castle’s front door.

Instead, magic crackles on the air and carries me from the Yellow Brick Road to the interior depths of the castle and Lacosta’s private rooms.

She is humming to herself. Golden light spills out from one of her rooms and a fire snaps on the hearth.

She’s braiding her hair, spreading cream on her face.

I stay in shadows, waiting.

And when her humming stops, I know she knows.

“Your Eminence,” she calls.

“Hello, Lacosta.”

Once her suspicions are confirmed, she quickly ties her robe closed, then gives a little shake of her head and unties it, letting her nightgown show.

“You must forgive me,” I say and step out of the shadows. “I was only just able to get away and I didn’t want to let our earlier conversation slip away, forgotten.”

She quickly checks her reflection in the mirror over her vanity, then swipes at a white smear of cream.

“You never need to apologize to me, Your Eminence.”

“Good.” I step in and she steps back, pressing herself into the vanity. I do enjoy catching people off guard. All the careful trappings of restraint fall away, laying them bare.

There are two brocade chairs set by the hearth, so I take one, draping myself into the cushion as if I am tired, as if I too am unguarded.

I am not.

“I wanted to commend you on a job well done. You sent Dorothy to me as I asked.”

She fidgets. The fire crackles. “She was desperate for direction. Truly, it was nothing.”

“Oh, but it was everything.”

She beams. She is very easy to please. I almost take pity.

“Sit with me.”

The robe flutters behind her, yards of lace and silk, as she comes over and sits beside me. Her legs are bare and pale and she crosses them delicately, folds her hands into her lap.

“I’ve given more thought to your proposal.”

Her breath stutters down her throat.

“I do think it would be a strong strategic move on both our parts.”

She smiles. “I agree.”

“But…”