The Promised Queen (Forgotten Empires #3)- Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,103
of illusion and coaxing them to believe what I wanted them to,” Ambrose conceded. “That is how magic works.”
“Can you make people believe you are Anure?” I asked, hope battling in my chest, Lia’s face dawning with a similar light.
“More effectively, I can appear as one of Anure’s wizards. As Her Highness has noted, they hold as much power as the false emperor, if not more. I can create a plausible excuse, and between Merle and me, we can manage a deception for a short time. However—and this is critical—there cannot be any cognitive dissonance. Any interruption and the illusion will cease to be sufficiently convincing.”
Perplexed, I looked to Lia. “The actual wizard he’s impersonating cannot appear,” she explained, “or people will realize the trick. And no one else, like the emperor, can arrive to countermand the order.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Ambrose complained, and Merle croaked an agreement.
“That brings us back to distracting Anure and the wizards,” I said, mostly to Lia, “so they won’t interfere.”
She gave me a wry look that clearly communicated she suspected me of being happy with this turn of events. “So you think that if you have an audience with the toad, you’ll be of sufficient interest to distract him and his four wizards long enough for a full removal of the royal captives, moving a hundred people to a stolen ship in the harbor, and sailing it out of reach.”
“Leave the stealing to Brenda and me,” Kara said.
She nodded. “We can do that while the rest are infiltrating the citadel.”
Lia studied them a moment, then nodded. “The timing is still a problem, even if you’re ready to set sail. How long does it take to travel from the citadel to the harbor?” She flicked a glance at Sondra. “I remember our journey from Anure’s ship to the gate we entered taking more than an hour.”
Sondra frowned and went to the table. “It was more like two hours. You’re right—that’s a problem.”
Agatha drifted up to join them. With a thin finger, she traced a route from the harbor through the township outside the walls, then through the massive main gate, and then through the winding streets between the walls and the towers of the citadel. “Does that seem like the route you took?”
Lia, looking pained, shook her head. I put a hand on the small of her back. She leaned into my touch, her trust telling me more than any words could speak. “I’m no help with that,” she said. “I was … not in a good frame of mind.”
“That’s the route we took,” Sondra said. “I counted the turns, in case we had a chance to escape and had to retrace our path.” She grinned at Lia. “My memory went to shit after that.”
“Smart,” Lia murmured. “It didn’t occur to Me to pay attention to turns.”
“Yeah, well.” Sondra shrugged. “When you’ve escaped one prison, you learn a few life-preserving habits.”
“They took you on the formal procession route,” Agatha said. “It does take nearly two hours. There’s a shorter route.” She pointed to another road from a side gate. “This is a supply road. It goes directly to the harbor, to expedite transfer of supplies from ships to the citadel storerooms.”
“Better.” Lia raised her brows. “How short?”
Agatha pursed her lips. “A quarter hour to get from the walls to the harbor.”
“And to get from the royals’ tower rooms to the walls?” Lia prompted.
“Figuring that you’re herding along recalcitrant people suddenly uprooted from their dwellings? Another quarter hour, at best. Probably more, depending on how much trouble they give us.”
“And they will give you trouble,” Lia said, not really a question.
Agatha inclined her head in wry agreement. “They are not long on trust, any of them.”
“Not surprising. We’re calling it an hour, total,” Lia decided. She pinned me with a sharp look. “How are you going to make this audience with Anure last at least an hour?”
“I’ll find a way,” I assured her.
“Not good enough, Con.” Lia’s voice was ice, her face sharp. Amazing how those lush and tender petals could reveal wicked thorns in an instant. “You had an audience with Me when you arrived on Calanthe. How long did it last?”
“Not long,” I admitted with remembered bitterness.
“Exactly. Do you know why I kept it short?”
“You’re a busy woman?” I ventured.
She smiled mirthlessly. “Ibolya?”
The lady-in-waiting who’d been keeping surreptitiously to the background glided up and curtsied. “Your Highness?”
“What’s the answer?”
Ibolya considered. “Your Highness keeps all audiences in formal court brief. You control the interview,