The Ruse (And Perhaps A Few More Secrets)

I have a new plan by the time Kassian joins me in the library for dinner, though I've no clue if it will work. Just to be safe, I retrieved the forged letter from Tristan and had Damien fill in the date. With all the players finally in the palace, all we need is that seal.

"I'm told you and Lord Eliades had a bit of a disagreement in the greeting hall this afternoon."

As Kassian takes his seat, Percy lies on the floor next to me, placing his head atop my foot, like a pillow.

"Yes, well, he was somehow under the impression that he and I were courting. A notion I'm afraid my father encouraged. After our escapades at the lake, Harris wanted to make it very clear that he no longer wishes anything to do with me."

"Does your father know of our ruse?"

"Of course not. He only wanted a backup plan should I not succeed in securing your hand. My father is quite set on achieving an enormous bride-price for me. His estate is … bankrupt. Imagine. The king of Hell is bankrupt."

Kassian blinks. "And so he thought to sell you to me?"

"Is that not how things are done?"

"Well, yes, but not in such crass terms. Hmm. Perhaps I should do something about that."

I know I will certainly do something about it once I'm queen. A pause in the conversation allows us both to sample our supper.

"Tell me," Kassian says, "when it is safe for our charade to be done with, do you not wish to marry and have a family of your own?"

"Of course I do. Marriage at least. I'm not certain about children just yet." I want to slap myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. How does he do that to me? Sometimes I'm convinced we're real friends, and I can be honest. But that is the true charade, isn't it? He is a mark, and I cannot make the mistake of becoming too comfortable with him.

If I want to marry the king, I most assuredly should have said I want children. That is the duty of a queen. To bear heirs. Never mind Kassian won't live long enough to produce any.

"I feel the same way," Kassian says, surprising me. "So why don't you have any interest in Harris? I happen to know he's quite rich. The ladies at court seem to think him attractive."

"They obviously have never had a conversation with him." my eyes roll by themselves.

Pleased with my answer, Kassian turns his attention back to his food. My foot has fallen asleep thanks to Percy's significant weight, and his breath warms my other foot.

"Why do you choose the library for us to dine in?" I ask.

"Do you even like to read? I've never seen you with a book in hand."

"My father loved to read. He was an old man. He liked to acquire knowledge. This room not only reminds me of him, it sort of smells like him."

Though Kassian has always been quick to speak of his mother, this is the first that he's said anything personal of his father.

"I don't have time to read," Kallias says. "But even if I did, I wouldn't. It's not a hobby of mine. I'd much prefer to run with Percy or spend time with you."

"Was he the oldest man in history, your father?"

"No. I have a great-great-grandfather who lived to be seven hundred and fifty-eight."

"He lasted more than seven hundred years before taking a wife and having children? So he was the original "Darkness"?" He nods.

"How long do you think you will last?" I ask.

"You doubt my resolve?" he asks, switching out courses.

"I'm trying to picture you at seven hundred years old and not having read a whole book. Will both your body and mind stay the same?" I hide my smile behind a drink of wine.

"Books are not the only way to learn. I will grow smarter and more powerful as my empire spreads. As I discover new strategies in leading my armies. As wise men and women council me."

"And you will grow lonelier. Don't you think you will

forget how to be human if you push away all the mortals in

your life?" I'm not even trying to convince him to court me at

this point. I'm honestly curious.

"I haven't pushed you away."

"But someday I will die. I will age, and you won't, so long as you live your life in shadow."

Kassian jerks away from the food he'd been bringing to his lips, as though that thought had never occurred to him. Finally he says, "That is a very long time from now." But he won't meet my gaze.

No matter. That's enough friendly chatter for one night. Time to move on to putting my plan into action for helping Tristan.

"Kassian, I heard a story about you stealing frogs from a lake to put into one of your tutor's beds."

He grins wickedly at the memory. "She was a terrible bore."

I size up Kassian.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm wondering. With your ability, is it only inanimate objects you can turn to shadow with a touch?"

Percy leaves me and goes to sit by his master, finally restoring blood flow to my foot.

"Why?" Kallias asks.

"I have to sneak into someone's rooms. For a friend. I wondered if you could let me in through the door. And I do mean, through it."

"You think I will just help you break into someone's rooms? Someone of my own court?"

"For me? Yes."

A light dances behind Kallias's eyes. "Whose rooms?"

"Harris's."

"Do I even want to know what you're planning?"

"I think it would be far more fun if you watched things play out." Kallias reaches down to pet the top of Percy's head.

"Don't pretend to be above such things with me," I add. "I know exactly how much you like slipping into courtiers' rooms. And with all the responsibilities you've been dealing with lately, you could really use a bit of sneaking."

His smile shows his teeth. "All right, but only because it's Harris. And if you're caught, I will deny having any part of it. For appearance's sake."

"And will you berate me in public only to pardon me in private?"

"Something like that. Now let's be off while everyone is still at dinner downstairs."

Kassian helps me out of my chair and holds the door to the library open for us. I pause outside.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I don't actually know where Harris's rooms are."

"I'd be concerned if you did. This way."

I follow him down the corridor. Up a flight of stairs. Down another hallway. He stops before a door that looks just like all the others.

"How do you know where his rooms are?" I ask.

"I know where everyone's rooms are. I like to know where all potential threats come from."

"But you keep the most dangerous persons closest to you?"

"Not at all." He flicks the tip of my nose with a leather clad finger before grabbing my hand in his. Kassian glances down both ends of the hallway, ensuring we're alone.

Then I feel myself disappear. I never noticed how heavy my limbs are until I suddenly can't feel their weight at all. Shadows trail along my skin, curling around my fingers, sliding over the fine hairs on my arms.

I clasp Kassian's hand more firmly, as I'm overcome with the sensation that I'll float away and disappear into the heavens if he doesn't keep me grounded.

"You get used to it," he says. "Now let's do this."

Kassian goes first, leaning his head forward to poke through the door. Confirming it's empty, he then tugs me with him.

The sensation of sliding through a solid wall is akin to slicing a knife through soft butter. Very little friction. And almost satisfying in a way.

Then we're through.

Harris's room is quaint compared to my queenly quarters. The drapes and bedspread are a royal blue with silver embellishments on the hems. As I try to spot the personal touches, I realize there really aren't any. No pictures of family (as some people are possessed to have), no trinkets or baubles —there aren't even any books on the shelves.

Perhaps with how often he travels for business, he doesn't bother with such things.

But then I forget about my surroundings entirely, as I realize I'm still holding Kassian's hand.

"What would happen," I ask, "if we were to touch in this state?"

Kassian brings his free hand to his lips and tugs off his glove with his teeth. He brings his fingers to my cheek. I register the contact, and I feel it distantly, but there's no heat. No sensation that comes from touching someone you find attractive.

It's rather awful, actually. Wanting that contact and not getting it. Even with a touch.

"I know," he says, reading the look on my face. "It's, well, a shadow of what real contact feels like." He bends over to retrieve the glove he dropped. "I'll wait outside and warn you if he comes. Just knock if you need anything."

And then he slides back out into the hallway with a wisp of shadow. I feel my limbs return to normal, watch as the shadows fade away. That feels much better.

Harris's desk faces the large window in the main room. His quarters consist of a bedroom and a washroom. No greeting room or study, as is in mine.

I open the first drawer and find everything I need in one neat place. The seal, wax, and the tools for lighting it. I light the wick and set the wax above it, waiting for it to melt. Since I've never been very patient, I decide to poke through Harris's things. The rest of the drawers on his desk are filled with writing implements and some unfinished letters.

Harris has a few chests and a wardrobe. One of the chests is locked. The other holds extra linens. His wardrobe contains nothing but his bland clothing in beiges and whites and browns.

I eye the locked chest.

"Whatever could be inside you?" I whisper to myself. Nothing else in the room is locked. Not the drawers with his correspondences. Not even the drawer that holds a pouch of necos.

I test the weight of the locked chest. I can lift it clean off the ground. It's not heavy at all, save for the wood it's made out of. Nor is it terribly large. Just a bit wider than my own body.

I stand after setting the chest back on the floor and look about the room. If I were Harris, where would I hide the key, assuming he doesn't have it on him?

I find myself back at the desk, examining the individual drawers a bit more closely. And I note that one doesn't appear to be as deep as the others.

A false bottom. With a bronze key nestled underneath.

Eliades, you simple fool.

I turn back toward the chest, let out a sigh of relief when the key fits perfectly within the lock, and lift up the lid. There's clothing inside. Rather foul-smelling ones at that.

Why the devils would he want to lock this away?

First, I pull out a rumpled shirt in shades of brown. A smudge comes away on my own gloves after handling it, and I bemoan the loss of the garment.

Then I find a pair of unremarkable trousers. Beneath those are a pair of boots.

Harris certainly isn't clever enough for misdirection, so what—

And that's when I see the final item in the bottom of the chest.

The incriminating one.

I hold up the fabric and let it dangle by the fingertips of my already-soiled glove.

A mask.

The mask.

Of the bandit. The very same one who robbed Kallias and me.

I let out a giggle. Oh, Harris.

But of course it's Harris. The pious do-gooder who wants to adopt orphans. Of course he would steal from his own class and help the poor.

The fool.

At first, I think to rush out and show Kassian, but then I realize he'll lock Harris away. I can't let that happen just yet.

He has a part to play to save Tristan.

So I tuck the mask into a pocket of my dress, replace everything else within the chest and lock it, return the key, and finally seal the letter I brought with me before putting all the supplies back in their proper places.

Then I knock on the door. Kassian reaches a hand through, grabs me, and tugs me back onto the other side.

We begin walking.

"Did everything go according to plan?" he asks.

"Even better."

Kassian looks me over carefully as we round a corner. "I don't recall ever seeing you quite this elated. I'm feeling jealous knowing that Harris is what caused it."

"Don't be," I say. "I just found incriminating evidence in Harris's room."

Kallias narrows his eyes. "Did you put it there?"

I laugh. "No, actually. I came for an entirely different purpose and stumbled upon it."

"And do I get to know what it is?"

"Yes, but later. I need Harris to do something for me first. Do you trust me?"

Kassian pauses and sizes me up, honestly considering the question. "I do," he says at last, as though the words surprise him. He rushes to add, "I'm bursting with curiosity, but I'll try to be patient."

"You are so very good at being patient." I mean the words jokingly, but somehow, I think a bitter note enters my voice