Page 107 of The Ragpicker King
When Ciprian spoke again, his voice was low. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
Kel hesitated only a fraction of a second. This was dangerous stuff, he knew. He was out on a ledge, over the ocean. Crocodiles below. He felt no fear, just concentration—that pleasurably careful sense of walking a tightrope.
He said, “I have no need to imply anything, Ciprian. I know perfectly well what I’m talking about.” He cocked his head to the side. “Let’s talk in private, then. How about the Caravel? Tomorrow at noon? We won’t be disturbed there.”
Cabrol gave a nervous jerk of his head. “Yes. Yes,” he muttered. “Tomorrow afternoon.” He stiffened. “Monseigneur,” he added, and there was a slight warning in his voice that made Kel turn around.
Anjelica stood behind them, smiling. She held a hand out to Kel. “Dance with me, my lord?” she said.
As Conor would have done, Kel dismissed Ciprian without a word and let Anjelica sweep him out onto the dance floor. The music was lively, the musicians themselves hidden behind a velvet curtain, giving the impression that the sounds of viol andliorwere divinely provided.
Anjelica moved gracefully as they danced. The pale feathers of her mask provided the no-doubt-deliberate illusion of bridal lace. She was slim and strong in his arms, and Kel was aware that a new emotion had been added to the mix of feeling projected in Conor’s direction: envy.
“Come,” she said. “Let us move away from the Queen.”
Kel had not noticed Lilibet, standing with Lady Gremont, a silver goblet in her hand. She did not seem to be observing them, but he followed Anjelica’s lead across the room nonetheless: Lilibet’s eyes would pierce the illusion of his amulet immediately, which would result in nothing but trouble later.
“So.” Anjelica raised her face to his. Her smile was not for him, he knew, but for all the watching eyes. “I must admit, I am impressed. I did not even see him leave. What was so urgent that he felt obligated to flee this celebration of his own dynasty?”
Him.Neither he nor Anjelica, Kel reflected, felt the need to use Conor’s name. He was the planet around which they revolved; there could be only onehim.
“I’ve no idea, but I’m sure I’ll find out later.” The circlet was snagging in Kel’s hair; he longed to readjust it. “And I imagine if you ask him, he’ll tell you as well.”
“No doubt,” Anjelica mused. “When I found out the Prince had a Sword Catcher, I never thought I would spend so much time with him. But it is a lucky thing tonight. For I have had a message from the Ragpicker King.”
Kel was instantly on alert. “What kind of message?”
“He tells me Laurent Aden will be here tonight. At the Solstice Ball.”
Incredulous, Kel said, “But that’s madness! He’s a wanted criminal.”
“Laurent enjoys risk.” Her lip curled delicately. “I suppose the masks proved too much of a lure. He intends to disguise himself as a diplomat from Hanse.” She sighed. “He will absolutelydelightin walking unnoticed among a group of nobles who would adore nothing more than to see him swing from the Tully gallows.”
“And then what?” Kel could hardly believe her calm. “You exchange money for the letters of yours that he has? And that’s the end of it?”
“Supposedly.”
“Do you really trust his word in the matter? He is already blackmailing you. Can you put so much stock in his honesty?”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Had you a better suggestion, you could have voiced it when we met the Ragpicker King.”
“I speak only out of concern.”
“But not concern for me,” she said dryly. “Concern for your Prince’s precious alliance. Kellian, you must understand. What Laurent wants is to see me. He believes that it is my parents’ will that separated us. He needs to hear from me that I do notwanthim, that I am not suffering from our parting. That he must leave me alone for my own good.”
“He really believes you cannot bear being parted from him?”
“People believe what they want to believe,” Anjelica said. Her slender hands tightened on his shoulders. “He is here,” she murmured. “Look—in the eagle mask.”
She had gone tense all over, her lips pressed together in a bloodless line. Carefully, Kel glanced across the ballroom.
And there he was, just at the edge of the dancers, dressed in the black and yellow of Hanse. A tall man, fair-haired, wearing the mask of an eagle with a cruelly hooked beak.He is disguised as a diplomat, but he does not carry himself like a diplomat. He carries himself steadily, flat-footed, like a man used to standing upon the swaying deck of a ship.
The room was full of rising whispers. For a moment, with a stab of alarm, Kel wondered if Aden had been recognized.And what do I do if he is? Go to his bloody rescue?
A moment later, though, he realized he had been entirely wrong. No one was looking at the criminal in their midst. They were all staring at Antonetta, who had just come into the room.
Kel blessed the years of practice that kept him dancing, kept him moving across the floor with Anjelica. All he wanted was to cross the room to Antonetta’s side, to catch her up in his arms. To shield her with his body from the narrow-eyed stares cast in her direction, the whispers sharp-edged as blades.
