He could pick her up with one hand, she thought, and toss her against the wall. Break her neck, if he liked. And his power came not from the fact that he had the physical strength to do it, but from the fact that there would be no repercussions for him for the act. No questions asked.
He would not even need to question himself.
He was looking down at her from an uncomfortable height, his gray eyes unwavering. They were like and yet unlike Kel’s. But of course they would be. “How—” he began.
A sharp voice cut him off. “Lin!”
She whirled. She had never been so glad to hear her grandfather approaching. He was at the far end of the corridor; Lin hurried toward him, aware of the Prince behind her, his gaze burning a hole between her shoulder blades. She could feel him watching her, even as she quickly explained Kel’s condition to Mayesh.
Her grandfather nodded, clearly relieved. “Well done,” he said. “Now wait for me in the carriage downstairs. I must have a word with the Prince.”
Lin did not stay to hear what the word was. She inclined her head in Prince Conor’s direction and murmured, “Monseigneur,” before making her escape.
The Prince said nothing in response, and offered no farewell, though she noted that he was still holding the signet ring in his hand. He had not put it back on.
Outside, the sky was lightening in the east, over the Narrow Pass. Just before dawn was the coldest time of the day in Castellane. Dew sparkled on the grass, wetting her feet as she approached the waiting carriage. （The driver, a dour-faced Castelguard, gave her a single dark look as she clambered in; perhaps he did not relish being awake so early.）
She was grateful to find that someone had placed a box of heated bricks, wrapped in soft linen, on the bench seat. She retrieved one, rolling it between her palms, letting her skin soak up the warmth. She wondered if Mayesh had requested they be put there.
She thought again of the talisman in Kel’s hand. Mayesh, what have you done?
There was a rap on the door and Mayesh appeared, folding himself inside the carriage. With his height and long limbs, he made her think of an elongated bird—a heron, perhaps, picking about in the shallows when the tide was exceptionally low.
He glowered at her as the carriage began to move. As they rolled beneath the trellised arch, he said, “Would you prefer to hear the good news first, or the bad?”
She sighed, folding her hands tighter around the hot stone. “Both at the same time.”
“Hmph,” he said. “You do seem to have worked wonders with Kel. I looked in on him briefly. That ought to dispose the Prince well toward you. But,” he added, and she assumed this was the bad news, “it seems not. He has forbidden you to return to the Palace grounds.”
She jolted upright. “But I need to—I must examine Kel again, in no more than three days—”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that.” The North Gate passed by above them. They were leaving Marivent. “I cannot help but ask: What did you do to offend Conor so badly? He said, if I recall correctly, that you were a rude and peculiar girl, one he did not wish to see again.”
“I did nothing.” When her grandfather only raised his eyebrows in response, Lin said, “I refused his offer of payment. I want nothing from House Aurelian.”
She turned to stare out the window. As quickly as she had come to the Palace, she had left it. And would, it seemed, not be returning. The heroine of The Taming of the Tyrant would be very disappointed in her, but then she had not had Conor Aurelian to deal with.
“Everyone in Castellane accepts something from House Aurelian, every day,” said Mayesh. “Who do you think pays the Vigilants? The Fire-Watch? Even in the Sault, it is Treasury money that provides the salary of the Shomrim—”
“To protect us, or to protect them against us?” she said, recalling Kel’s words: When I was younger, I thought the Ashkar must be very dangerous, to be kept within walls. “Anyway, it does not matter. I may have offended the Prince by refusing his signet ring, but I could have done worse.” Her brick had gone cold. She set it down beside her and said, “I could have said I knew perfectly well that Kel Anjuman is not the Prince’s cousin.”
Mayesh’s eyes narrowed. “What,” he said, “makes you say that?”
Lin could no longer see their reflections in the window. It had grown too light outside. The sky over the city was turning from black to a pale blue, streaked with feathery gray clouds. There would be movement down at the harbor, and shipbuilders beginning the trek over the rocks to the Arsenale. Seabirds would have begun to circle, filling the air with reedlike calls.
Lin said, “He is covered with scars. Not the kind of scars a noble might get from the occasional duel, or even piffling about drunkenly on horseback. I have seen nothing like these, save on the bodies of those who used to be fighters in the Arena. And don’t try telling me he was an Arena fighter when he was twelve.” （It had been a decade since King Markus had outlawed gladiatorial combat, calling it inhumane.）
“Oh,” said Mayesh, “believe me, I wasn’t going to. But I see you haven’t finished?” His tone was one of polite inquiry. Do go on.
Lin went on. “He had a talisman in his hand. An anokham talisman. I know enough of gematry to know what it does.”
“It is rare magic. Powerful,” said Mayesh. “That talisman dates from before the Sundering.”
“It is illusion magic,” said Lin. “It ties Kel Anjuman—or whatever his name is—to Conor Aurelian. It makes him look like Conor Aurelian when he wears it.”
“Your study of gematry has been more comprehensive than I realized,” Mayesh said. He did not sound displeased. Only thoughtful, and a little curious. “Has this been part of your quest to cure Mariam Duhary?”
How do you know about that? Lin thought, but she did not ask. She had only this one chance to question Mayesh about what she had witnessed; she would not squander it. “It has been part of my general studies,” she said. “Mayesh.” （He looked at her sharply from beneath his heavy brows, but said nothing.） “I didn’t take the ring because I didn’t want payment from House Aurelian. I do want payment from you, however. I want you to tell me who my patient is.”
“Was,” said Mayesh.
They had reached the Ruta Magna. The Broken Market had been cleared away as if it had never existed, and the shops were beginning to open. They passed a group of merchants from Sarthe and a Chosean girl with foxgloves pinned in her glossy black hair; all paused to look curiously at the carriage with the royal seal upon the side.
“He isn’t dead—”
“No, but it does not seem you’ll be treating him again. Lin, I am sworn to keep the secrets of the Palace. You know that.”
“I could make a great deal of trouble with what I already know,” Lin said, almost in a whisper. “Is he a sort of whipping boy? Is he punished in Conor’s stead? Or is he a bodyguard? I will find out, you know.”
“I do know. I’d hoped you would accept the story that Kel is Conor’s cousin, for all our peace of mind. But I suspected you would not.” Mayesh templed his fingers under his chin. “If I tell you this, you must swear a binding oath, that it will go no further than between you and me.”