I wait under the gaze of the wooden panther on Trevus’s office door. I’ve already knocked once, but there’s no answer. No soldiers came in the night, so he couldn’t have made a report. I assume that means I’m still the prince’s assistant.

I knock a second time. Perhaps he left the palace to search the city for Jade. What would he do if he actually found me?

“Enter,” Trevus calls. He’s here.

I step inside and close the door. He’s writing at his desk, just like nearly every other morning. He didn’t go looking, but he may still. I ask him – “Shall you search-”

“Stop.” His voice booms. “Never repeat your words of yesterday, neither to my ears or any others.”

My lips stay shut.

“Versillia’s court shall not look upon colluders as mercifully as I,” he says.

Does he not want to be reminded of Jade, or is he concerned that a search party would comb through the city, putting my life in danger?

He holds a folded letter over his shoulder. “To Lord Qualthalius.” I take it.

On my way out, there’s another knock on the door.

I answer and quickly step back at the appearance of two large, frightening guards in black obans. My stomach sinks. Are they here for me? Was the mention of ‘Jade’ only enough to distract Trevus in the moment?

“His Majesty King of Versillia requests the Prince’s presence,” one soldier says.

They’re not here for my arrest. Thank goodness.

Trevus doesn’t turn from his desk. “I am encumbered with duty,” he says.

“Your Majesty, the King of Versillia insists,” the soldier says.

“If my presence is of such great significance, would he not have made the journey himself?”

Both soldiers look at each other. One tugs on his collar. They’re nervous. “Your Majesty, he shall be greatly displeased with us should we return empty handed.”

They’re trapped between the prince and the king. Trevus sighs and stands. “Very well.” He passes the guards, and they follow behind him. I stay at the office door.

“Raylia,” Trevus calls, “If I must waste my time, you shall too.”

I hurry after him, catching up to walk at his side.

We head downstairs to the third level. Two guards open a set of double doors, revealing a wide room with a low ceiling.

A long open window stretches across the back wall, the blue morning light broken only by the silhouette of the king. I recognize him by the golden thread woven throughout the back of his black and purple oban, along with the short silver crown on his head. He’s looking out over the city. This room faces the palace rear, sharing the same view with my bedroom.

Trevus steps down to the lower area with the king. They’re separated by a large triangular table.

The soldiers close the doors. I stay with the two at the edge of the room. A scribe sits at the table corner, ink and paper ready.

The king turns his attention to Trevus. “You are summoned to share your knowledge of the Seventh. I shall scour the kingdom and beyond, commencing with her place of origin, a pitiful mit settlement south of Ephesus. Hints to her aspirations, habits and preferences would prove valuable.”

He’s strategizing about my search, unaware that I share the room with him. At least I finally have a name for the place where I lived before my abduction – a village south of Ephesus.

“Must you insist on my inclusion in your frivolous manhunt?” Trevus says. He remains standing at the edge of the table.

The scribe’s pen stills, and the soldiers by my side adjust their footing.

“Leave us, all of you,” the king commands.

The scribe quickly stands, gathering his papers and inkwell. The soldiers head out, and I follow them.

“No, Raylia,” Trevus says. “Remain where you are.”

I freeze. The king’s sharp look shifts in my direction.

“’Twas at your command I acquired an assistant,” Trevus says to the king. “How can she assist from the wrong side of the door?” He indicates for me to pull out his chair, a task he’s never expected help with before.

I take a cautious step forward, my eyes never leaving the fuming king.

Trevus takes a seat. The doors close, leaving the three of us alone. I rush back to the corner of the room, hoping to escape the king’s glare.

“Do not disrespect a king in the presence of his subjects,” the king says.

Trevus holds his gaze but doesn’t answer. Is he not worried about retaliation?

“Do you not wish justice upon the witch that killed your mother?” the king asks.

“Justice is absent from this venture,” Trevus says.

“Vengeance then.”

“Perhaps the word you desire is ambition?”

“You may not believe I loved your mother, but that does not deem it any less of a truth.”

Instead of responding, Trevus looks out the window. Is he thinking of her? The corner of the cemetery of piled stones is visible from here. The king wasn’t at her funeral, but he knew of her death a decade before the rest. If he did morn, that period is long past.

“Share where you suspect the Seventh may hide, and I shall deploy regiments.” The king walks to Trevus’s side of the large table. “Let us avenge Mehlia.”

I told Trevus that Jade was in Lystra two nights ago. If the king orders a search of the city and surrounding lands, the palace wouldn’t be spared. Men equipped with rahlite like the ones who invaded Sisarea would have little trouble finding me. Is that what Trevus wants? If I’m captured, my execution may as well be written in stone.

“I harbor no knowledge of the sorceress of which you have yet to hear.” Trevus stands. “Am I dismissed?”

I can barely contain my smile. He would prefer I remain free instead of in King Tytius’s hands.

The king’s neutral expression doesn’t waiver. I see where Trevus gets his stony face. “You are dismissed,” the king says.

Trevus leaves the room, and I hurry out beside him.

“Why insist I stay?” I whisper once we’re out of earshot of the guards.

“I was in need of your assistance,” Trevus says.

“To move a chair?” I don’t believe that for a second.

“You assisted in other manners.”

After collecting my evening dinner from the first-floor kitchen, I head to the servant dining hall. Men and women gather around tables, each dressed in the same white oban I am.

I find a table by myself. While I may look like them, I’m not Versillian. Having casual conversation is exhausting when every sentence must be phrased in their dialect.

Soon my potato meal is finished. I wash up and leave the dining hall with my clean porcelain bowl in hand.

The sight of the king in the passage brings me to a sudden halt. He blocks the way back to the kitchen, and he’s approaching with soldiers at his wings. I twist my gait in the opposite direction and hurry. He’s the last person I want to speak to.

His deep voice issues orders, but I’m too far to hear. The bowl will have to stay in my room for the evening.

Two hands wrap around my biceps, bringing my body to a sharp stop. I yelp. My arms are pulled away from the bowl. It crashes against the ground, shattering at my feet.

The soldiers rotate and lead me back towards the king. My feet barely find the floor, but the stiff grips on my arms keep my body moving. I’m brought before him.

Towering over my frame, his resemblance to Trevus is evident. He’s a large, broad man with short gray and black hair. A razor-short beard colors his square jaw, and he’s clad in regal uniform and regalia. I kept my distance in the meeting chamber this morning, and I would have preferred it remained that way.

“The prince’s little assistant,” he says. “How convenient that we were to encounter one another.”

Two soldiers have me in their hold, and another four fan out around him. Every one of them is armed with a sword. Even if my hands could move, I’d be impaled before taking a step. Convenient is the last word I’d use.

“Your Majesty,” I greet. As reluctant as I am to admit it, the etiquette guide was useful.

“Tell me, little one, considering a servant girl, a prince and a king, rank their authority.”

My eyes are wide. As if lying dormant until the worst moment, the pendant on my neck is burning again. I have to bear it. If my illusion fails in front of the king, I’m dead.

“Rank them,” he growls. I flinch.

“Uh- king, then prince, then servant,” I say.

“So indeed, you are aware that a king outranks a prince.” He speaks slowly, as if I’m a young child still learning language.

It wasn’t a question, so I follow the etiquette rules and stay quiet. This is his domain, where he has absolute authority. I have to be seen as obedient.

He leans in. “Why do you follow a mere prince’s orders over mine?” The fingers around my biceps tighten.

I grit my teeth. A groan escapes my lips from the pain – emanating both from my arms and where the pendant touches my chest. “My humblest apologies, your majesty,” I force out between breaths. “It was error- I am a novice- novice in the palace.”

The soldiers release their grip and shove me aside. I hit the stone wall and land on my butt.

“I shall not remind you a second time,” the king says. He continues down the hall, and his goons follow him.

Evelyn’s pendant feels like it’s on fire. I scramble to my feet, nearly losing my balance a second time. A small crowd has formed between the doors of the dining hall. They’ve been watching. There are too many eyes on me.

I rush to the closest set of stairs, taking a different corridor to the king. I leap up the steps in bounds of two and three, my hand gripped tight around the pendant. If the burning pain becomes overwhelming, I won’t be able to maintain the illusion any longer.

My chambers are just up two more flights of stairs. The ginger twin soldiers guarding the fourth level step aside without a word. They recognize my face and the urgency in my stride.

Unable to take another second, I barrage through the first door I recognize – Trevus’s office. It’s empty. I slam it shut and rip the pendant away from my skin.

Relief. Finally.

My tired legs fall, and I slide against the office door until I’m on the ground. My labored breathing dominates the silent room. I made it.

Author’s Note:

Jade is about figure out the location of the julite. Any theories as to where she’ll find it?

The last thing Evelyn, the Fourth of Six, told Jade in Chapter 31 is about to become important.