and disappeared down a dark alley.
Corin was left standing alone, surrounded by the fallen forms of guards and the rioters those guards had felled. While Avery and Maurelle came down behind him, Corin shook his head. “So. That’s why the druids helped.”
“And that,” Avery said, pointing past Corin’s shoulder, “is why the crowd is thinning.”
Corin had already spotted it. Ephitel rode into the plaza, shining like a star in silver-chased armor. More than a hundred mounted soldiers rode behind him, fanning out as they entered the plaza until they filled the far edge from end to end.
Avery darted to the rear of the carriage to look past it, back toward the Nimble Fingers’ hall, but Corin didn’t bother moving. “The other way is blocked, too,” Avery called.
“Of course it is,” Corin said.
“We’ll never get this carriage moving fast enough to escape the cavaliers.”
Corin shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“So how did you plan to escape?”
“In Parkyr’s coach.”
Avery heaved a disappointed sigh. “You’re going to need another plan.”
“I’ve just devised one,” Corin said, while Ephitel spurred his line forward at a walk. The prince had eyes like a hawk’s, sharp even behind his visor, and they never drifted from Corin’s face.
Corin licked his lips, mind racing. Then he raised his hands high and shouted, “We’re unarmed. And we surrender. Take us before the king.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Across the plaza, Ephitel’s face twisted in a cruel grin. He came forward at the same slow advance.
“This is your plan?” Avery hissed.
“It gets us in the palace,” Corin answered under his breath.
“In the dungeons! That is not the same at all.”
“Can you think of something better?”
“Yes! You should have left town! Hidden in some manling farmer’s barn for a week while you made some connections and plotted something that might actually work.”
Corin swallowed his first sarcastic response. He said, “Maurelle believed the Nimble Fingers would be connections enough.”
“Not to challenge Ephitel. Oberon himself might not be connection enough.”
Ephitel’s arrival ended that conversation. For a long moment, he sat in judgment over them, his cohort spread out in tableau.
Then he spoke. “Avery of the House of Violets. While under charge, you have further dared to despise the custody of the Royal Guard. And here’s your pretty sister, Maurelle of the House of Violets. A conspirator in your crimes.”
Avery’s whole body tensed in anger and fear, but the gentleman did not dare object. Corin had no such restraint. “She’s done no—”
“And you,” Ephitel boomed, smiling even as he voiced his grim displeasure. “Corin Hugh of Aepoli, a manling vagabond far from home now meddling in the affairs of his betters.”
Corin staggered at those words. How had Ephitel learned his identity? The answer came to him in a moment. “Aemilia…”
Corin barely breathed the name, but Ephitel nodded. “You have led me on a merry chase, slinking fox, but the moneylender made for docile prey.”
But she’s escaped your net, Corin thought. He strove to hide the flash of satisfaction from his eyes, but Ephitel reacted. He spurred his stallion forward, knocking Corin back, and kicked aside the open carriage door. He stared inside. Corin itched to have some weapon—the sword he’d left behind, or even the crude knives he’d nearly borrowed from the kitchen earlier. For one long moment Ephitel left his back turned on Corin, and the pirate yearned to bury three feet of sharp steel in it.
Maybe not too sharp.
Then the prince wheeled in a fury. “Where is she? Where has the druid gone?”
One of his lieutenants pressed forward. “She must have slipped away with the crowd.”
“Impossible!” Ephitel shouted. “She carried a draught of the druids’ own sleeping potion. That would have rendered her as useless as these fools upon the road.” His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “What has happened here?”
Panic burned behind Corin’s breastbone. He couldn’t let Ephitel suspect the druids’ involvement. Corin pushed forward and raised his chin. “I came to rescue Avery.”
“I have seen something of your tricks,” Ephitel said. “This is not your handiwork.”
“It is!” Corin shouted. He pointed to the guard he’d overcome earlier. The unfortunate soldier was stirring now, groaning softly, and matching bruises blacked both his eyes. Corin darted toward him. “Ask this one. I fell upon him like a storm at sea.”
Ephitel followed Corin until he sat staring down at the stirring soldier with the same disdain he had shown to Corin before. “Yeoman Kellen. I should not be surprised to find you embroiled in this affair.”
Yeoman Kellen stopped stirring, although he did give one more heartfelt groan.
Ephitel leaned