inch the prince, from his posture to the grace of his hands to his very complexion. He’d drawn his hair back clumsily, and covered it with a shawl. I felt my ribs tighten around my heart. My lord was never clumsy. It meant that his hands had been shaking.
But perhaps his clumsiness would work to our advantage, though it hurt me to think of using my lord’s distress for any good. There was a certain cruelty in such resourcefulness, despite its practical uses. Iseul was resourceful that way in battle, and though it won him much acclaim, it still sat poorly with lesser men.
I smiled again at my lord, this time mastering the attempt.
“My lord, do you remember the theatre groups who would entertain at the palace?”
Mamoru looked at me with confusion, but nodded. “I do.”
“I thought that perhaps, if you thought of this as… something similar, if you imagine yourself an actor, you might affect the posture of a servingwoman, and one who is ill, besides.”
It was the only way that I could think to counsel my lord against betraying himself with his movements, his very being. I could not tell Mamoru to be anything other than a prince, but if I could see it so clearly, then others certainly would. Therefore, he would have to think of his disguise as more than that. It was a role, and one that our very lives depended on his playing. I could only trust in my lord’s skills, as he was trusting in mine.
“Ah, I see,” my lord said. “I do not yet look the part.”
“My lord,” I began, “it isn’t—”
“If I do not, there is no need to spare my feelings,” my lord chided. “Here: I will try it better.” After a moment’s pause, he crossed his arms over his chest and bent nearly double, as though attempting to shield himself from a great wind. The parts of his hair that hung loose from the braids shielded his face, and gave him a rather haphazard and common appearance, very much like a servingwoman who’d worked nonstop throughout the day, with no time to pause and fix her hair once more into its proper place.
He was better at adapting than I had even hoped. Perhaps the gods, in their own way, were on our side after all.
“That’s very good,” I said, warm where I hadn’t allowed myself to be before. “Nearly perfect, my lord.”
Mamoru lifted his head. In his eyes, I could see the shadows of a faint gratification at such praise, even in the midst of such a situation as ours. “Thank you, Kouje,” he said, and I knew it was not entirely for my compliment.
“My lord is a virtuoso,” I said, turning my eyes to the various horses, some of which had awoken at even our quiet conversation, and stared at us now with baleful eyes. Best to take one of the diplomats’ horses, I thought, since it would not be so easily recognized by the guards who manned the gate at night. They knew all the lords’ horses, and I did not trust my lord with a lesser beast. Perhaps the horse we took would even give Iseul some other, more pressing matters to deal with, since a member of the delegation from Volstov would surely question the loss of his mount. Iseul could not give the impression of caring too little for his guests, and so any affront dealt to them would have to be managed most publicly, and with all his resources.
I didn’t truly believe that a missing horse would be our miracle, but my lord and I were in need of help wherever we could ask it. At best, it would provide a momentary distraction.
“I think we should take this horse,” my lord said. It was the one he’d suggested earlier, a strong-looking animal with a russet coat. Indeed, it looked more like a farmer’s draft horse than a lord’s mount: perfect for two servants traveling out of the palace.
My approval must have shown on my face, for my lord did smile then, though it was a small and fleeting thing. I saw it as a victory all the same.
My plan would not work without Mamoru behind it. If he did not believe in me, it made no sense for us to leave in the first place.
“Give me your robes,” I said. “If my lord will mount first, then I might walk alongside the horse.”
My lord looked as though he meant to protest, but he