own best resource. She spotted a column of palace soldiers marching through the street. Excellent, she thought. They’ll do nicely.
Lady Evara scurried out of the alley, then straightened her hat, grateful she’d worn one so ridiculous that it identified her as an obvious aristocrat, and strode beside the column. “Thank you for the escort,” she told the nearest soldier.
He shot her a look, but since she was dressed as a noble and was unarmed, he did not object. She walked with them to the gates of the palace, and then she swept forward to present herself to the guard. She schooled herself to ignore the way her heart thumped hard in her chest.
“Lady Evara,” she said in her most imperious tone. “I must have an audience with the emperor-to-be as quickly as possible. I come on urgent matters.”
“You come too late,” the guard informed her. “Prince Dar has been arrested on charges of high treason for the murder of Emperor Zarin.”
For once, Lady Evara was speechless.
Dismissing her, the guard inspected the soldiers, admitting them into the palace.
All right. This . . . changes things. Lady Evara prided herself on being able to quickly grasp a situation.
Either Prince Dar had indeed murdered his brother and sent his soul into a kehok, or the high augurs had orchestrated the murder and were seeking to hide their guilt by framing Prince Dar. Either way, she possessed dangerous knowledge. Only a few knew that the black lion held Emperor Zarin’s soul. If anyone found out that she was one of those few . . . If Prince Dar were guilty, she’d be branded a traitor for keeping his secret, potentially condemned to suffer the same fate. And if the high augurs were secretly evil, they’d seek to silence her. Her wealth would be the least of her worries.
I should flee.
It was the obvious choice.
Sell whatever possessions she could, and start a new life somewhere else in Becar. Or even outside of Becar. There were lovely lands beyond the desert, if she could scrape up enough gold to buy passage on one of the trade caravans. She was simply not in the position to make enemies as powerful as the ones involved in this game.
Her parents would have expected her to, as the lesser Becarans would say, cut bait and run. She was used to looking out for herself. After all, no one else would.
But . . . But . . .
What if Prince Dar were innocent?
Augur Yorbel would have known if he wasn’t. She was certain of that.
Which meant the high augurs were not innocent. And she was in possession of information that could help expose them, if she were willing to use it, thus potentially freeing all of Becar from the influence of duplicitous murderers.
That, of course, meant not fleeing and instead choosing to endanger herself.
Ironically, she wished she had an augur to consult about this moral dilemma.
No one is going to help me make this choice, she thought.
Maybe there was a way to protect herself and do the right thing, if she played this correctly. She’d have to handle it carefully . . . Yes, she could do it.
Plopping herself back in front of the guard, she said imperiously, “I need to see Lord Petalo on a matter of utmost importance.”
Others were clamoring for the harried guard’s attention. He glanced again at her, at her ridiculous hat, and waved her through. Quickly, before he could change his mind, she hurried through the arch and up the steps. Her heart felt as if it were pattering faster than a kehok could run. She tried to keep her expression smooth and walk without running toward the heart of the palace, the vast courtyards where the aristocrats commonly gathered. She then settled herself and strode through the court.
Everything was in chaos.
Some of the lords and ladies were weeping, collapsed in an undignified manner beside the statues. A few wounded soldiers were being treated out in the open. Lifting her skirts to increase her mobility, Lady Evara hurried through. She passed a clot of guards in the hallways and heard whispers: a lady had been murdered. Lady Nori.
But Lady Nori wasn’t her concern. She had one goal: the mustached blackmailer.
It took her far longer than she would have liked to locate Lord Petalo. He was in an office, hiding bravely from the riots and chaos of the court by barricading himself behind a door and a layer of servants. “Announce me,” she told a servant. “And