“Wow,” Madinia marveled. Davis was ignoring me, which was exactly what I’d hoped for. Taking a step closer, I attempted to memorize as many details as I could. My breath caught. The map was so incredibly detailed it was like a work of art—encompassing every part of the city. On the map, tiny replicas of the carriages were fastened, currently moving as if alive.
The king’s favorites enjoyed magic like this every day, while even our village healers were stripped of most of their magic. Magic that could have saved lives.
Madinia placed her hand on Davis’s arm, leaning close. “How does it work?”
Davis held one of his hands over the corner of the map where a stone lay on top of the parchment. I went still. It wasn’t an oceartus stone—it was a dull yellow color—but the stone glowed slightly, and Davis reached for one of the tiny carriages positioned at our backs. He nudged it with one finger, until the carriage was outside the castle gates.
“Come with me,” he said.
We followed him out to the gates, where the carriage was waiting. The nudge of his finger had moved it into place.
Ah. I glanced at Madinia. Thankfully, she wasn’t an idiot.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” she asked, her voice light. “How do the carriages know when to stop for people and other carriages and horses?”
“That’s part of my father’s magic. He gave the carriages a level of sentience. Just enough to ensure those within the carriages are protected.”
“And as someone who spends a lot of time in those carriages, I appreciate that.” Madinia’s laugh sounded like a hundred tiny bells all ringing at once. “But what stops someone from sneaking into that map room and making a carriage go wherever they like?” She bit her lip as if genuinely worried about such a possibility.
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” Davis said. “Not only is the map secured by some of the king’s most trusted guards, but other than my father, I’m the only one who can change the carriage routes.”
Madinia linked her arm through his. “Now, that’s a relief.”
I cleared my throat, and Madinia turned that lifeless smile on me. “Setella has an errand to run in the city,” she said. “But you’ll entertain me, won’t you, Davis?”
I’d always wondered how some women managed to purr their words in a way that made males lose their senses. If we lived through the next few days, perhaps I could convince Madinia to teach me.
Davis gave her a dark look that would have worried me if I didn’t know Madinia could burn him alive with just a thought.
Actually, maybe that was what I should really be concerned about. I gave Madinia a warning look, and she smirked at me, turning to walk back toward the carriages with Davis.
“Where are you going, Setella?” a voice called.
I sighed. I’d been so close. I turned to find Pelopia and Alcandre strolling toward me.
“I thought I might go to the market,” I lied. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask to come with me.
Pelopia opened her mouth, but her eyes heated as she glanced over my shoulder. I turned to look. Lorian was walking out of the castle, surrounded by several men dressed in Gromalian colors. Marth was one of them. It was strange seeing his expression so distant, his eyes so bored. As I watched, he waited for Lorian to get several steps ahead and then winked at one of the maids, who gave him a saucy grin.
Lorian turned, giving Marth a hard stare, and I barely suppressed my own grin.
“I heard about how the prince attended to you when you were sick, Setella,” Pelopia murmured.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Any denial would likely just stoke her curiosity further.
“Don’t worry,” she said when I didn’t reply. “I understand. He is a handsome devil, with his long red hair and that roguish smirk.”
My smile froze.
I turned to the man whose hair was neither red nor long. Lorian sent us a wink, playing the part.
I understood now just why the king had allowed him to sit next to him.
He was wearing another man’s face.
But for some reason, I could only see Lorian.
Why? Was it because I’d known him before the charm he must be wearing worked?
No. Tibris and Vicer could still see my darker eyes.
Was it because Lorian was a hybrid? I needed to ask Tibris what he saw when he looked at the Gromalian prince.
My pulse thumped as I stared at him, putting the pieces into place. This was how he’d been trusted to go where he pleased and to do whatever he liked in the castle. Could he wear other faces if he chose?