The Queen's Blade (Book 1)

Chapter 18

Blade rose at dawn and brushed the straw from his clothes, then stretched and yawned. The night spent in the palace stables had been peaceful, and the deep bed of straw had provided a pleasant resting place. Digging out the bag he had secreted there the night before, he consumed a frugal breakfast of biscuits and water before wetting a cloth and beginning the long transformation he hated so much. This time, however, he donned the female clothes over his own, and applied the skin dye only to those parts of him that were exposed.

 After he had applied the kohl to his eyes and berry juice to his lips, he forced the earrings through the long-unused holes in his earlobes with a grimace. He studied the disguise in his mirror, brushed the blond wig and tucked away errant strands of jet hair, then donned jingling bangles and a cheap necklace. Satisfied, he reburied his bag and rose to brush straw from his skirts, checking the daggers strapped to his wrists inside his sleeves. Covering his hair with a rippling length of blue silk, he wandered from the barn with a woman’s graceful, swaying gait.

Several of the guards he passed on his way to Kerrion’s rooms winked and leered, and one tried to pinch his bottom. Along the way, he pilfered a bottle of wine, then walked to Kerrion’s door and knocked. The guards who stood outside it grinned at him, and Blade smiled and lowered his eyes. A gruff command to enter made a guard open the door, and Blade strolled into the Crown Prince’s boudoir. Kerrion sat on the rumpled bed with his hair still tangled from sleep, and looked up from lacing his boots. He scowled when Blade thumped the wine bottle down on the table.

“What is this? I did not order wine. Get out.”

Blade spoke in his own voice. “So it is true that Cotti men treat their women like slaves. No wonder you do it to Jashimari children too.”

Kerrion grimaced. “Blade. The guards let you in?”

“Naturally. All they saw was a serving maid with a bottle of wine.”

The prince straightened and studied the assassin. “No wonder you fool everyone. I did not have the opportunity to appreciate the perfection of your disguise on the night you abducted me.”

“I did not come here for you to admire me. Let us get on with this.”

Kerrion picked up an embroidered white tunic and shrugged it on. “I was starting to wonder if you had lost your nerve.”

Blade glared at him. “You should learn to curb your tongue. Antagonising me is not a good idea.”

Kerrion completed his ablutions before summoning his familiar from her perch, and the guards snapped to attention as the Prince marched past with the eagle perched on his shoulder, Blade following. The assassin found the walk through the palace educational, noting the corridors and rooms they passed through with keen interest. Its echoing emptiness struck him as amusing, but the décor’s sheer opulence more than compensated for the lack of furnishings.

The desert mines were rich in many things besides metal, and, in some rooms, rows of quartz pillars glimmered in the warm light, streaked with shades of pink or blue. Quartz statues glowed with translucent beauty, and, in one vast room, a circular skylight let in shafts of pale pink radiance. The Prince seemed oblivious, striding past the breath-taking scenery without a glance at it.

Arriving at a pair of massive brass-studded doors, Kerrion said, “Wait here until you are called. I have to convince them to grant you a pardon first.”

Blade nodded. “Lerton will help.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will see.”

Kerrion gazed at the assassin in puzzlement, then headed for the doors, which the guards opened for him. As they closed behind him, Blade moved closer to the wall and stood with his head bowed, pulling the blue silk over his face to foil curious stares.