Page 67 of The Ragpicker King
“Then why involve me at all? Why not have your brothers take you? Simply claim you wish to see something of the city you will be ruling one day.”
“They don’t know the city at all—it would make no sense for them to show it to me! I need someone who is familiar with Castellane for the tale to make sense, and I would rather it was you than Legate Jolivet.” She leaned closer to him.Thatwould please Lilibet, who was surely staring and wondering. “The Palace guards are a gossipy lot, if they’re anything like the ones in Spice Town. I need them to believe I am on a sightseeing tour, arranged by the Prince or the Queen. Something they won’t question.”
Kel hesitated.
“I can only tell you that this is in everyone’s interest—especially the Prince’s. And you, I think, are perhaps the only one here who puts Conor’s best interests above all other things.”
“And if I refuse?”
She sat back in her chair. “Then I will endeavor to slip away from Marivent on my own and make my own way in the city.”
“You can’t do that—”
“You cannot stop me.”
Kel wanted to grind his teeth together. She was right, of course. He couldn’t prevent her, but he knew from experience that creeping in and out of Marivent undetected was a difficult thing even for someone familiar with the Palace. Kutani’s spies were good, of course, but there was always an element of chance—and for her to be caught would be disastrous for the alliance with Kutani.
And Conor needed that alliance.
“I will consider what you’ve asked me,” Kel said. The nobles were stirring, getting to their feet. Soon they would approach to introduce themselves to the Princess. He and Anjelica would not be alone much longer. “And give you an answer in the next days. Do not act before I do.”
“Then do not wait too long,” said Anjelica with a sweet smile. She had turned to look out at the garden. “Who is that girl who is staring at you?”
Kel followed her gaze. It was Antonetta. She had come into the garden without him noticing and stood in the shadow of a flame tree, looking up at the pavilion. She was all in green silk, like the stem of a flower, with green silk ribbons threaded in her hair.
She met his eyes. The look on her face was hard to read. He would have guessed it was concern, but why would she be concerned for Conor? A moment later, Gremont had joined her, along with Lady Alleyne. They were both talking to her rapidly, and Kel could guess easily enough that she was being scolded for arriving late.
Then the nobles were swarming up the steps, ready to be introduced to Anjelica, and Kel could no longer watch Antonetta. First up to the table was Cazalet, with his pleasant smile and sharp, gleaming eyes. Then dour Sardou, who presented Kel with a wedding gift he claimed was—rather surprisingly—from Malgasi, and after him Raspail, whose gift was a wooden carving of Sedai. He must have hadthatmade up in a hurry, Kel thought, but Anjelica seemed pleased.
In fact, she seemed pleased to meet each one of them. Whether she was or not, Kel couldn’t tell, but she had been well trained in Spice Town. To each noble she said something warm and welcoming, dotted with personal asides—asking Ciprian Cabrol about a new sort of dye, and inquiring of Gasquet as to the health of his many brothers and sisters. In the few moments when she looked blank, Kel leaned in to whisper bits of noteworthy intelligence about each new arrival.
“Who is the man all in silver? He looks as if he might have Kutani blood,” Anjelica murmured.
“Lupin Montfaucon? Textiles Charter. Cotton, linen. Not that they interest him.”
“What does interest him?”
“Drink. Brothels. Gambling. He is a sybarite; his goal is pleasure.”
“How typical of this city,” Anjelica replied, but when Montfaucon came up, she was all delighted inquiry about his silver coat. With Joss Falconet, she chatted about spices; with Esteve, primed by Kel, she inquired solemnly about his obsession, the horses of Valderan.
Lady Gremont came up with Artal, who gifted Anjelica with a tea that had been created just for her, or so he claimed, and would soon be for sale in the coffee shops of Castellane.
“Té Anjelique,” Lady Gremont announced, looking pleased with herself.
“It seems the Princess’s royal portraits did not exaggerate. Most are too flattering, and leave out the pox scars and lumpy noses.” Gremont leered. “You must have been pleased, Conor, to arrive at the docks and find your betrothed more attractive than her likeness, and not less.”
Lady Gremont, looking horrified, pulled Artal away before either Kel or Anjelica could reply.
“What an unpleasant man,” Anjelica said.
“You’ve no idea,” said Kel.
And then it was the turn of the Alleynes. Lady Alleyne bustled up in a whirl of calla lily silk, Antonetta close beside her. Lady Alleyne remained only long enough to be polite before descending the steps to speak with Queen Lilibet. But Antonetta hovered for a moment, her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on Anjelica.
“Now I see it,” she said, the ruffles at her throat trembling. “For so long, I thought Conor and I would marry”—Kel nearly choked—“but you are so beautiful, Princess. I see that you are destined to be Queen of Castellane.”
For the first time that night, Anjelica looked taken aback. “Oh, I—”
