Page 66 of The Ragpicker King
“Conor sent his apologies,” Kel said as they made their way down the path to the Queen’s Grove, followed by Benaset and the Bloodguard, keeping a careful distance behind them. “That he cannot be here himself—”
“It does not matter.” Her tone was dismissive. “But does he do this to you often, then? Schedule two engagements and send you to the one he would decline?”
Kel studied her profile.Wasshe angry? Conor had insisted she didn’t mind, and indeed, if she was upset, she was hiding it perfectly. “I don’t know whether you will believe me, but no. I can only assure you he would not be absent now unless he was required to be. And I do not think of it as something he doestome,” he added. “This is my duty. My livelihood.”
“I thought your livelihood was to catch swords. Or daggers, or poison, or whatever might be thrown at your Prince.”
“Are you worried we are walking into danger?” Kel said. “Because of the last banquet held here? The Castelguards are well prepared—”
She shook her head, and the gems in her hair made a musical sound. “No. Only a fool repeats a surprise attack, for it is not a surprise the second time. My Bloodguard would protect me, in any case.”
Kel glanced over at Kurame, who winked at him through the dark. Isam and Kito did not look nearly as amused; Kel suspected they were annoyed at Conor over what must seem like disrespect of their sister, and probably annoyed at him by association. Kel was, as always, a conduit through which feelings about the Prince passed and were transformed, like one of Merren’s alchemical mechanisms.
At the end of the path, the Queen’s Garden opened before them. A flourish of thelior—not, thankfully, being played by Merren this time—announced their entrance. The Bloodguard melted away into the shadows, though Kel was well aware that they were still close by.
Barely had they stepped into the grove than the fountain in the center of the reflecting pool shot forth streams of water colored in red, orange, and gold. The guests yelled and clapped—Beatris Cabrol, beside her mother, screamed aloud in surprise—and Lilibet, seated upon a golden chair beneath a canopy of cinnabar brocade, smiled. She wore her usual green, with a golden collar so high it nudged the base of her chin.
Everywhere were lanterns of pale-white parchment: hanging in the branches of the white-flowered almond trees, floating atop the reflecting pool like lily pads. The orange trees bore glimmering fruit: Dark-orange crystals and candied oranges hung from the boughs. On each of the tables scattered around the grass were vases of red and yellow Shenzan porcelain, from which spilled flowers native to Kutani: orange trumpet vine and scarlet arrowroot, the greenish-yellow petals of ylang-ylang, which gave off the strong scent of perfume, clashing with the odor of the citrus trees. Glass basins held pastries and candied fruits, atop which fat yellow bees—confusing the crystalline lantern light for day—buzzed and feasted.
If Anjelica was impressed by any of this, her calm expression did not show it. She kept her back sword-straight as they moved past rows of politely clapping nobles, on their way to a marble pavilion on which had been set a single table for their repast. It looked like a stage set, Kel thought, but perhaps that was not surprising. This whole business was a performance for the benefit of the Hill.
Many of the nobles gaped openly at Anjelica as she went by. They had all heard she was beautiful, of course, but seeing her up close was different. Kel wondered if they felt as he had on the docks, that this was a kind of beauty that caused pain. But his mind was only half on the question. He could see Lady Alleyne, who had placed herself near Lilibet, with Gremont standing beside her. But he did not see Antonetta. Surely she would be here tonight?
But even if she was, he thought, as he and Anjelica made their way up the steps to the pavilion, he was Conor tonight. He would not be able to approach her as himself.
Though what could he do as himself? She’d already told him he couldn’t help her.
They reached the single table resting beneath a canopy of gold organza. Anjelica seemed to hesitate just for a moment before taking her seat beside Kel. Perhaps she, too, was uncomfortable with the performance.
Kel busied himself with formalities: the finger bowl with rose petals floating in it. A sip of scarlet wine, bitter on his tongue. Beside him, Anjelica rested her hands on the table. Around her slender wrists, bangles of coral and amber clinked like coins. Kel was terribly aware of all the eyes on them, the avid gazes of those desperate for a tidbit of gossip, a word they could spread about Castellane’s soon-to-be Princess.
Kel cleared his throat. “You know,” he said, “we have this pavilion to ourselves, whether we like it or not. The nobility of Castellane is free to stare at us, but I assure you, they cannot hear us. If you have questions, now is a good time to ask them.”
“Not questions, precisely,” Anjelica said, “but I wished to ask you for a favor.”
“To ask me, or the Prince?”
“You,koya-mitimi.Or is it too difficult to be both the Prince and yourself at the same time?”
“I am very used to playing at being Conor. Walnuts notwithstanding.”
She smiled faintly. “What about Kel Anjuman? Are you used to playing him? After all, that is not who you are, either.”
Kel felt as if someone had put a hand on his solar plexus and pushed. He said, “I am used to that, too.”
If the deliberate neutrality in his voice struck her, she did not react, only nodded. “You are right,” she said, though he was not entirely sure what he was right about. “There is no reason to waste this evening.” She set her glass down. “I need to arrange a meeting without the knowledge of the Palace, and I need you to help me.”
Unable to stop himself, Kel swung around to stare at her. She looked back defiantly. She no longer seemed quite as distant and unearthly. He could sense the nervousness under her commanding tone, and it made her seem very human. “Me?” he said. “What would make you think I am the one to ask if you wish to keep secrets from the Aurelians?”
“You know about Aden,” she said. Her voice shook slightly. “The pirate. The trouble I have had with him.”
“You are not planning to meet with Aden, of all people?”
“No.No.” A look of indignation flashed across her face. “Someone who knows him. Someone who has promised they can make him leave me alone. Forever.”
“Then why must this be a secret?” Kel plastered a smile on his face. It could not look as if they were having an argument;thatwould be a scandal. “The Aurelians would surely wish to help you rid yourself of this annoyance.”
“They would,” she acknowledged, “but they would send me into the city bristling with guards in a royal carriage, and the personI am supposed to meet would flee. No one wishes for such attention from the Arrow Squadron.”
