Page 37 of The Dead Queen

I purse my lips, but say nothing. Hunter has always been a bigger person than I am. Less selfish or single-minded.

“Anyway,” he says, nudging a stick out of our path with the toe of his shoe. “That book wasn’t the real gift. It was just the public one.”

I tilt my head to look up at him. “Oh? And what is this ‘real’ gift?”

He fishes another small box from his pocket and hands it to me.

“You know, you don’t need to give me presents.”

“I promise you’ll like this one.”

The box is white with a thick, red ribbon tied around the middle. I remove the lid and my breath catches when I see what’s inside: a silver moth on a thin chain.

“Hunter …” I’m at a loss for words. The necklace looks so familiar, but it takes a moment to sink in.

“It was your grandmother’s.”

My eyes shoot up to his. “How did you get this?”

The boyish humor is gone from his eyes, replaced by genuine sincerity. “While you were gone, I found it and kept it close. It was … how I stayed near to you, even though you were so far away.” He rubs the back of his neck and a very real blush colors his cheeks. “I know that may sound silly.”

I shake my head. “That’s not silly at all.” With one finger, I trace the delicate silver curves of a wing. It’s the same moth that’s carved into the stone around my mother’s mausoleum. The same one that decorates Grandmother’s knife.

He nods. “I recognized the moth the second I found it.”

“But where?”

His eyes dart around to see who’s listening. A smile brightens his face as if we’re not discussing the belongings of a dead woman. I look up and spot two of my father’s guards nearby.

“I’ll bring you there,” he says.

“When?”

He takes the necklace gently into his hands, then waits. I lift my hair off my shoulders and turn away from him. When he reaches to clasp the necklace around my throat, I close my eyes. The metal is cool against my skin and Hunter’s scent is all around me, fresh and bright like a citrus grove after a rainfall. His fingers linger on the skin at the nape of my neck.

“Tonight,” he whispers, his warm breath on my ear.

He steps away and holds out his arm for me to take. I do and we continue walking down the garden path.

We sneak away from the palace after supper, our red court clothes left behind. I pull the hood of my brown cloak up to hide my auburn hair, lest anyone recognize me. An autumn breeze blows, making me shiver. Soon, this cloak won’t be warm enough for the impending winter.

Hunter leads me down the darkened city streets. Dim lamplight reaches through shuttered windows and onto the cobblestones below our feet. Most shops are closed now, except for the odd tavern and house of ill-repute. The myriad of smells from market day are long gone, replaced by cool stone and garbage left out to rot.

“Where are we?” I ask. I’ve never been to this part of the city before. It’s a long way from the main roads that lead straight to the palace.

“White’s End,” he says. “It’s …” he pauses, thinking. “One of the less desirable neighborhoods in the city.” A rat squeaks by, getting underfoot.

“What were you doing here?”

Hunter pulls me closer, lowering his voice as we walk. “The King’s Guard often has … special assignments. Out of uniform.” He pauses as a drunken man stumbles by, swearing loudly about being booted from his favorite drinking hole.

“Such as?”

“I can’t say, Sienna. I’m sorry.” His mouth is a grim line, ever the loyal knight.

“I understand.” But I don’t. Why would Commander Malen send his men into the city in disguise? They’re sworn to protect the king, not masquerade with the city’s unsavory nightlife.

“So, you were on a different mission when you found my grandmother’s necklace?”