The Promised Queen (Forgotten Empires #3)- Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,126

her tower. After the first, entrée to the next became easier as she carried specific notes from one denizen to the next, or claimed to run an errand for yet another. The royal captives might be prisoners, but they’d also formed a tightly knit society complete with a complex barter system, carefully cultivated mutually beneficial relationships, and a network of information sharing that nearly put the courts at Calanthe to shame.

Once she overcame her fear and anxiety, Ibolya fitted herself almost seamlessly into their midst, finding those waters as familiar as the ones she’d swum in all these years. She did visit all the rooms that were “hers,” though she didn’t need to. Once she explained the reason for her presence—and convinced the captives of her sincerity, largely by citing Her Highness Queen Euthalia, well known for granting asylum on Calanthe and more recently famous for defying Anure rather spectacularly in court—the lords and ladies sent their own messengers to the other captives, alerting them to Ibolya’s mission.

By the early morning, all the nobles in Ibolya’s tower had prepared messages canceling meetings and appearances—and had assembled their belongings for escape. She’d only had to argue with a few of them about what they intended to bring along. Most of them were grimly excited to escape the citadel with their skins intact and nothing more. Still, Agatha had been correct: They all absolutely insisted on bringing their servants and attendants.

Finally, in the dark predawn hours, they settled in to wait for Con and Percy to have their audience.

22

As Percy had promised, we parked the Last Resort at a slip reserved for nobles in favor with the Imperial Toad, conveniently close to an ostentatiously magnificent bridge to the main gate. Nice for getting in, but terrible for getting out again. Even if we could evade capture long enough to escape the citadel, we’d never make it to the Last Resort—or get the yacht out of the harbor.

Which Percy had to have known when he suggested the tactic. His last sacrifice, for sure. The guards balked at Vesno coming along, but no way was I leaving the wolfhound behind, since we wouldn’t be back to the yacht. To deal with the guards, Percy pointed out—at blistering length—that they were not the ones to be attempting to negotiate such a piddling issue, especially when my affection for the dog acted as another leash on my good behavior. They finally capitulated, maybe out of sheer exhaustion.

It was definitely a faster entrée to Anure’s stronghold than the Slave Gate had been, the phalanx of guards escorting us past the long line awaiting entry, through the massive maw of the main gate, then down the dark stone hallways. I studied the walls and branching halls and stairs, attempting to place myself from my previous visit, but I didn’t recognize much. Or rather, everything looked the same and thus far too familiar. I could only guess that there must be markers indicating the various towers—Agatha had seemed to know the system—and I hoped our other team had all infiltrated their towers and had the captives ready to evacuate as we began our distraction. Ambrose had been confident he and Merle would know of our movements, but I hadn’t caught a glimpse of either of them.

As we drew nearer the throne room, I was able to place it from Lia’s re-creation on the model. We stepped into the huge hall, and I imagined myself on that sand table. The small figure of myself—sadly without the rock hammer I’d left with Lia, or even my sword or bagiroca, as Percy had taken possession of those—being marched by a child’s hand through the encircling ring of courtiers. I resisted searching their faces to see if I could spot Rhéiane. If all had gone as it should, my sister wouldn’t be in the room. Ambrose and Merle should be already posing as Anure’s generals, moving the captives out to whatever ship Brenda and Kara had decided was best for stealing.

So many moving pieces I knew nothing about. I began to understand Lia’s frustration at being out of control. There was something to be said for lone-wolfing it.

Just outside the throne room, the captain of the guard halted at the closed doors. His men swiftly surrounded Percy, relieving him of the chain to the fuse, and detaching the bag from my belt. The captain grinned at Percy’s dismay. “You didn’t really believe we’d let you carry a bomb before His Imperial Majesty, did