situation—because, even though they didn’t know the exact cause of her ruin, they did know she couldn’t have kept them on. So far, no one had noticed. But that wouldn’t last forever.
Checking the mirror one final time, Lady Evara allowed herself to be led into the palace. Only years of practice enabled her to avoid gawking at the wonders inside:
A waterfall that cascaded down a fifty-foot copper wall.
Pillars intricately carved to look as if they were lace.
Statues so lifelike they were indistinguishable from the courtiers who milled among them. And courtiers who were themselves works of art, their faces painted to resemble animals and their clothes merely a display case for elaborate jewel-encrusted necklaces, bracelets, and anklets. She felt positively drab beside them, and Lady Evara never felt drab.
By the time she reached the emperor-to-be’s sitting room, she wished she had chosen to wear all her hats at once. That would have made an impression, though perhaps not the one she wanted to make.
Do not let them intimidate you, she told herself firmly. You have value.
She didn’t believe that, of course, not when evidence said otherwise. But it helped to think it.
The guards announced her, and she swept inside. “Your Excellence—” she began.
Lounging on his throne, the emperor-to-be held up one hand. He addressed a ragtag collection of musicians who looked as though they’d been scooped up off the street. A few were drummers, with homemade-looking drums made from spare pots, and the rest were carrying various horns. “I’m looking for musicians who can rally the people in celebration. Give me your most rousing music!”
As the musicians launched into the worst cacophony she’d ever heard, the emperor-to-be beamed wider and wider. He gestured for Lady Evara to join him.
She longed to jam her fingers in her ear, but she settled for wincing every time one of the horn musicians squeaked a note that should have been impossible for the human ear to hear. The emperor-to-be beckoned her closer.
“What do you think of the music?” he shouted.
“It’s very . . . enthusiastic,” she shouted back.
He beckoned her closer, and she climbed up onto the dais so she was standing in front of the emperor-to-be. She immediately knelt so she couldn’t tower over him—it was the obvious response to such an awkward situation.
He leaned closer. She expected him to comment again on the music, but instead he said, “I have an enemy, and I believe it may be someone in the palace, specifically an aristocrat or diplomat with access to a deep treasury, which unfortunately does not narrow the list of suspects as much as I would like. I need someone with no current alliances to anyone in the Heart of Becar to lure my enemy into revealing him- or herself, and I believe you are the perfect person for that job.”
She blinked at him, but she had not survived as long as she had, fooling the rest of the aristocracy into believing she still belonged with them, without learning how to react quickly. “I am your loyal subject.”
“Excellent. As my adviser to my new racing team, I will require you to report to me frequently on their progress. See to it that you are seen coming and going by as many as possible. If my enemy has any brains at all, they’ll try to use you. I want you to report any attempts to bribe or subvert.”
“You want me to be your spy.” This was a delightful turn of events. A chance to help the emperor-to-be, to be useful to the empire itself. Her parents certainly never expected her to have an opportunity like this. “Out of curiosity, what makes you think I can be trusted?”
“Because you have already proven I can trust you,” he said simply.
Oh, of course, she thought. She had been keeping the secret of the late emperor’s vessel. She hadn’t thought of that as a show of loyalty to the emperor-to-be as much as a necessity to avoid catastrophe, but she supposed it could work as both. “I will do my best, Your Excellence.”
“My coffers will be open to you, as necessary.”
Well, that was excellent news. She wondered what qualified as “necessary.”
As the horrendous horn music began to die down, the emperor-to-be abruptly shifted the conversation. “What kind of gift do you think would please my kehok rider? I wish to show both my thanks and encouragement as she prepares for the next races.”
Lady Evara realized the subject change was due to the fact they could be