The Faceless Mage - Kenley Davidson Page 0,74

not to hope. Hope was for those who could not be forced to take the life of someone they cared about. Hope was for those whose heart had not been brutally crushed too many times to count.

For the Raven, there was nothing but waiting. And wondering how long he would have before the light in those eyes died on the edge of his blade.

Chapter 17

Leisa’s fear of being discovered did not abate over the next few days. If anything, it grew and was merged with her larger fears for Zander and for Farhall itself.

Though as far as she knew, the Raven had communicated none of his suspicions. No one else accused her of espionage or hiding secrets, and Prince Vaniell continued his probably-meant-to-be-charming attempts to talk her over to his own view of mages.

Each morning she staged a polite meeting with two members of her guard, who took turns visiting with her so as to hopefully disguise the fact that Zander was nowhere on the palace grounds. They had decided to pretend he was deathly ill and had to remain sequestered in the barracks for fear of infecting others.

And every day, Leisa submitted more or less tamely to being dressed up and paraded around to whatever functions were deemed worthy of her attendance. Or perhaps whatever functions were considered likely to impress her.

None of them did. The best of them bored her, and the worst of them irritated her to the point where she was forced to continually rein in her caustic comments.

The Raven had not spoken again, but she didn’t think she was imagining the fact that he seemed to hover closer than before. Whether to protect or intimidate, she didn’t ask. At most functions, her shadow remained so close to her chair, she was approached only by the bravest souls, and none of them dared more than the most inane and polite of conversations.

So she talked to the Raven instead.

At first, it was only the unflattering observations she wished she could make aloud, like comparing Vaniell’s latest outfit to an accident in a dyer’s shop. More than likely, the Raven never heard her—she didn’t like to draw attention to the gem by touching it in public—but she knew he was there, and it felt less lonely to have someone to talk to.

Once or twice, she thought she felt the flicker of a reaction, though so faintly she knew she’d probably imagined it. But she was lonely—and worried for Zander—so she let herself continue to imagine it, and from that point forward, it became something like a game. Could she provoke her silent shadow to laughter, or even curiosity, without betraying herself?

Before too long, she was holding entire conversations in her head, never really expecting an answer, but imagining her companion’s responses and carrying on as though he’d made them. Even if he couldn’t hear her, those imagined conversations made her feel less alone, and gave her something to do as she waited for Zander’s return.

For seven endless days, she waited, enduring countless fetes and flounces while feigning interest in all the meaningless drivel Garimore’s court could invent for her entertainment. Or her distraction.

Leisa suspected the latter, because King Melger did not summon her again, nor did meetings of any importance appear on her official schedule. She was shepherded around by a simpering, smirking Vaniell, but kept well away from anything that resembled a meaningful discussion of their kingdoms’ futures.

Were they now trying to buy Evaraine’s approval with luxury and amusement? It was in the midst of her fuming over this treatment that Leisa decided she had no choice but to take matters into her own hands. When Zander returned, she needed to be ready to act on whatever he’d learned. And without more information about what Melger envisioned for Farhall’s future, she had no way to paint anything like a clear picture for King Soren. No way to convince him that it was better to reject the alliance with Garimore and look for a new way forward.

She needed to do something unexpected. As the Raven had said, how could she know what to believe if she only listened to what she was told?

So, in spite of her fears, after Zander had been gone a full week, Leisa used the mirror once more and slipped out of her room just before midnight, leaving the gem behind.

She had no particular purpose or destination in mind. What she needed was to listen—to hear what was being said when she wasn’t around.

As