if you are missing, to listen to a servant complain about her missing garments, my lord. I should have left money, but I was… I didn’t think of it.”
Mamoru stepped forward. His feet were bare, and I should have put my hands beneath them where he walked to keep the soles from being pricked by hay or sullied by dirt. Before I could offer myself, or at least the maid’s cotton slippers, my lord had moved away from the wall to rest that same supporting hand against my arm.
“You have truly thought of everything,” he said, and this time, it was more in gratitude.
“I thought that we might tell the men at the gate that you’ve taken ill, and I was charged with the duty of taking you from the palace as quickly as possible before day broke and the diplomats heard of it,” I said, offering my lord the clothes. They were thin, and he took cold easily. I didn’t like it, but I could bring his finer robes with us, and perhaps barter with them for something warmer, and shoes that would better serve him. I had no further plan yet. My sister had married a fisherman. Perhaps, if all else failed, I would learn to fish. It was ridiculous and implausible; my lord was a prince, and a fisherman’s hut would kill him soon enough, or crush all the beauty out of him. For now, it would serve as a transitory destination. I was rescuing him. That was all I could think of. “While the delegation from Volstov is under the Emperor’s care, he cannot allow even the smallest of threats to escape his notice.”
Mamoru reached out to me for the maid’s clothes, then hesitated. “The Emperor will find us,” he said.
I could not hope to protect him, or so he must have thought, against his brother’s far reach, against the age-old network of spies, against the soldiers he would send to search us out like wild dogs. Yet I was bound to serve my lord as always. Perhaps I was being too prideful, too sure of my abilities. I was no more than a servant, and the gods favored Iseul. In his veins ran their blood.
In Mamoru’s, too, I told myself, as I handed him the maid’s clothes.
“It will take him some time to send any men after us,” I reasoned, as my lord stepped behind an empty stall to undress; I could hear the sound of silk moving against silk, and the crunch of old, brittle hay beneath his feet. I wondered if I had time to go back and find boots for him, and knew even as I thought it that I did not. “He will be busy with the delegation and the treaty, and it will take some doing for him to explain why you are missing. It will take longer still for him to gain permission to send armed men after us, since with the delegation present he will be reluctant to act too precipitously.”
That, and my lord had made a favorable impression on the delegates, where I had read nothing but fear and discomfort on their faces while conversing with Iseul. That manner of impression would not have harmed him in the Ke-Han way of thinking, but it might just work in our favor when it came to the delegates’ being comfortable with lending Iseul free rein. He was Emperor still, but we were under the thumb of Volstov until otherwise notified.
I could see my lord’s eyes in the darkness. They were very pale, and very bright, and dark all around with shadows. I stepped into a shadow of my own to change, careful not to dirty my finest clothes. They’d be worth at least one pair of boots; that way, I would keep Mamoru’s fine things for as long as I could.
“Diplomatic talks are always impossible,” Mamoru agreed. Though he sounded subdued and resigned, there was faint strength remaining in his words, and an almost desperate humor. “It would take them days just to decide whether or not to open a window, much less—Much less chase down an errant traitor-prince.”
“You know them better than I,” I said, allowing a tight smile. That was no time for jests or laughter, and so of course we needed them more than ever. It was much akin to battle humor.
After a minute, Mamoru stepped out from behind the stable wall. It was easy enough to see that, despite the shabby clothes, he was every