The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,76
vizier, looking skeptical.
Cal nods.
I lean forward. “It’s just that we’ve brought a gift for King Hansen, if he’ll do us the honor of an audience.” I reach into the hidden pocket of my skirt and pull out the diamond ring with the large Argonian emerald in its center that I have been carrying for so long. I thought it might be useful on my journey.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Cal looking at the ring, then at me, and then at the ring. I hadn’t mentioned it and I’m not looking forward to the questions I know are coming. I didn’t tell him about it because I hadn’t intended to use it until right at this moment. I can tell that expensive, shiny gifts are the type of thing that impresses the vizier and earns his favor.
The vizier’s eyes widen. He sits up and leans forward to get a close look at the ring. “Well, well. How wonderful. A beautiful piece.”
“I’ve brought a little something for you as well, if you’ll accept,” I say. I pull the smaller, slightly less valuable diamond-and-emerald ring out of the pouch and hand it to him. “Argonian mined and set, of course.”
“Of course, of course,” he says, putting it on his pinkie finger. It only fits halfway. He holds up his squat little hand to admire it in the late-afternoon light shining from the bay window. “It’d be my honor to speak with King Hansen on your behalf.”
There’s another knock on the door. The footman opens it, and another steps inside. He approaches the vizier, bends down, and whispers something in his ear.
He nods at the footman before turning back to us. “Will you please excuse me?” he asks. He scoots off the chair and hops to the ground, then leaves the room, followed by the footman. The door shuts behind them, leaving Cal and me alone in the creepy room.
“I don’t like him,” I tell Cal.
“We’re not here to like him,” Cal says, his expression unreadable. “We’re here to get into the palace. And we’re that much closer already.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Caledon
“AREN’T YOUR AUNTS HEALERS? THEY sell salves and teas and such?” Cal asks Shadow when they are alone. He tries to sound casual. He gets up from the chair to get a closer look at the vizier’s house of horrors. He leans toward one of the deep bookshelves, only to discover that the tiny jars lined up on it are filled with preserved primate ears.
First a pouch full of gold coins and now Argonian emerald rings—is Shadow a thief? What kind of name is Shadow, anyway? His earlier suspicions about her resurface in an instant. Who is she really?
Shadow busies herself with brushing nonexistent debris from her dress. “Yes, and . . . ? They weren’t always. In any case, they do well for themselves.”
He stares intently at one of the fish—a dragonfish, according to the label. “Remarkably so, apparently.”
She folds her hands in her lap and glares at him. “What are you saying?”
He shrugs and crosses his arms against his chest.
Shadow bristles in her elaborate dress, flouncing her ruffles. It almost brings a smile to his face but he keeps it grim. What else is she hiding from him?
“Honestly, how I acquired the rings is none of your concern,” she says haughtily. “But I suppose you can’t help making assumptions, questioning everything I say—you know why? Because . . . because you’re a hypocrite.” She looks pleased with herself for saying it.
This time, Cal does bark a laugh, but it only provokes her more.
“You are!” she nearly shouts.
He shushes her; she lowers her voice but continues. “You question everything about me and yet tell me nothing about yourself!”
“I have hardly been so circumspect,” he says. “You are the only one aside from my father and the queen who knows about the blood vow.”
For a moment she looks chastened, but soon sits back against the chair in a huff and crosses her arms. “Just because you don’t know any Deian healers who can afford Argonian emeralds doesn’t mean they don’t exist!”