Eyes closed, Ru slumped on the settee. She was now convinced that Simon must be personally biased against Lord D’Luc. He had behaved like a gentleman. Not once had he handled her inappropriately. Yes, he was a bit overly charming, but Ru found it almost refreshing after days of sleeping on cold ground, contending with fear and danger at every turn. And his conversation about science had been stimulating; the idea of that same man being the leader of a religious group? Nonsense. The Children must be scientifically enlightened, just as Hugon was.
When the bed was ready at last, she shed her gown and crawled between the sheets without bothering to change into pajamas. “Thank you, Pearl,” she managed to mumble before sleep took her.
* * *
A violent knockingon the door wrenched Ru from her slumber, tumbling her out of bed like a rabbit from a hole, heart pounding. She rubbed her head, blinking.
“Who is it?” she called out, her words thin and croaking.
“Sybeth,” came the clear, determined voice. “We depart in thirty minutes.”
Ru groaned, feeling as if she’d only just fallen asleep. The curtains on the windows were so thick it was impossible to tell the time of day based on sunlight alone. Squinting and rubbing her eyes, she yanked on the tassel for maid service.
Pearl arrived only moments later, pushing a cartful of morning accoutrements: a pot of hot coffee, toast, and jam, and on the lower level of the cart were stacks of folded clothes and a pair of boots.
“We must hurry,” said Pearl, laying out the coffee and toast. “I lost track of time, Miss, I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s perfectly fine,” said Ru, dragging herself to the coffee. “Are these clothes for me?”
“Yes, Miss. A gift from the regent. Traveling clothes for your journey to the Tower.”
After drinking her coffee as quickly as she could without burning herself, and chewing a piece of toast as quickly as she could without choking, Ru got dressed.
The clothes weren’t exactly what she was used to at the Tower. They were more luxurious, adorned with details and ornamentations that Ru had absolutely no use for. Her jacket was velvet with a brocade collar, her skirts and bodice woven with fine wool, and ornately embellished at the bust with buttons and embroidery.
Even though they looked a bit too luxurious for a traveling outfit, Ru found that the clothes were very comfortable, and fit her perfectly.
“You look radiant,” breathed Pearl.
“I looksomething,” said Ru, peering cynically into a full-length mirror. The full look was somewhat more palatable than she had predicted as she was putting the clothes on, but even so, she felt overdressed for days of riding. “These sleeves are too puffy,” she complained, pulling at the fabric and frowning. “And these boots, they’re lovely, but they’ll be ruined immediately. Not to mention theskirts…”
Pearl tutted and steered Ru away from the mirror before she could launch into a full-scale rant.
“It’s time to go,” said the maid, practical and useful as always. “Take your artifact. The horses and carriage are packed with everything you’ll need, and I made sure the footman included some of those little sugar cookies you like.”
Ru almost wanted to cry at Pearl’s thoughtfulness. “How did you know about the cookies?”
Pearl blushed. “Your brother sent a note.”
“Simonwouldsend a note about my favorite cookies rather than coming to see me off himself," Ru grumbled. She gathered the artifact in her arms, trying to ignore the way it almost seemed to purr at the edge of her consciousness.
Lyr was waiting in the hall, arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes almost completely obscured by his heavy, dark brows. “Finally,” he said when Ru emerged from her room. “Come on. We’re late.”
“By a few minutes,” protested Ru, but she was rushed through corridors and down flights of stairs until they emerged into a gray morning.
The palace was almost ethereally quiet, its facade lit softly by angled sunlight through mist. The hour was so early that hardly anyone was about — servants and cooks would be preparing for the day in their wings of the palace, hurrying through servants-only corridors. The lower streets of Mirith would be teeming with market crowds, but the aristocracy had no reason to be up and about yet.
A miniature convoy waited for Ru at the foot of the palace’s main stairs. She had foolishly, briefly imagined that she and Fen would be riding a horse together all the way to the Tower, a fantasy swiftly quashed by the reality that lay before her: half a dozen horses, three kitted out with King’s Riders regalia, and four with simpler but much more robust harnesses and armor at the chests — these were horses of the King’s Guard. In the center of everything sat a carriage, simple on the outside, but Ru caught a glimpse of a heap of pillows and blankets within.
“I don’t need seven guards,” she said, looking around for Fen. She saw Sybeth and Rosylla, preparing their horses for a long journey. She was comforted by the fact that her riders would be with her, at least. But four King’s Guards? Did someone foresee a battle taking place on the northern road? “And who on earth is going to ride in there?” she asked, pointing at the carriage.
“Obviously you,” said Lyr.
Ru balked. “I’d rather ride.”
Sybeth approached then, one hand resting casually on her sword pommel. “Problem, Delara?”
“I was telling Lyr that I would much rather ride a horse than sit around like an old woman, alone in a carriage.”
