“You mean trick him.”
“Itismy specialty,” Rey said. “I can be one of the Melvilles—they’re an old noble family, so big no one can keep track anymore. I can say I’m there for the post-coronation nonsense, and you’re my manservant and hired sword. You’ll need a shirt for that, though.”
Eli gestured to his soggy shirt, and Rey groaned faintly.
“A new shirt. Maybe even two. I can say, oh….the sword is a de Valois artifact.”
“No, he won’t be interested in that. It should mean something to the de Guillory line, maybe to lend Adrien more legitimacy as a submissive king.”
“Ah, good point. We’ll have to paint the cart again and rent a house in the city, but I have some money put away.”
Eli wondered if he would have to sleep in the garden wherever they rented. Most likely—he didn’t want to repeat what had happened to the Blanchet residence. “So long as you don’t pretend to be an archduke.”
Rey drew himself up to his full height. “People here are likely to think an archduke is more impressive than a regular one—who cares if they’re real? And I’ll have you know I can impersonate the best of the Starian nobility. It’s you I worry about. Try pretending to be a servant. Call me ‘my lord.’”
Eli snorted. “My lord.”
“You can’t laugh when you do it!”
Eli tried again, bowing slightly. “My lord.”
“Mm. Slightly better. We’ll practice on the way. Luckily, country nobles don’t have the same etiquette as nobles in the city. We can get away with a bit more.”
“And you don’t think he’ll notice me?”
“You’ll be a servant,” Rey said. “No one ever notices servants. And think about it logically—is heexpectingto see you? Do you want him to know?”
Eli felt his face heat. “No.” He couldn’t face Sabre, not as himself, not knowing that Sabre’s last thoughts of him were of a person with a different name and appearance, someone who by all evidence wanted him dead.
“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t.” Rey walked over and ruffled Eli’s hair. “Maybe we’ll dull these curls a little, make them a little less copper.”
“No, my hair used to be more brown than red. This is safer, actually.” Eli didn’t want to admit that he liked his hair. His father’s used to be the same shade in Eli’s distant memories of him. It was unlikely that Sabre would see Eli and recognize the sibling he thought was his sister. Even his face had changed, grown thinner.
Eli was so distracted by the thought of returning to Duciel that when they’d set up the fire and Rey tossed him a bottle from the cart, he unthinkingly opened it and took a sip.
He paused, frowning, with the bottle pressed to his lips.
“It’s lemonade,” he said.
“Yes, I know it technically says it’s a truth serum,” Rey said, and his voice trailed off as he turned to stare at Eli. “Oh, I forgot, the…the ash…”
“It tastes like lemonade,” Eli said, and took another sip. Nothing changed. He lifted the bottle to the firelight and stared back at Rey. “How?”
“I’m not a mortal?”
“It can’t be that simple.” Eli looked at the meat still sizzling on Rey’s plate, and Rey scrambled over with it.
“Try it out,” he said, excitedly. “Try it, go on. I’m offering.”
“Itcan’tbe that simple,” Eli said again, picking up a piece with his fingers. It was tender, spiced with herbs that didn’t grow in Staria, and it remained so even as Eli bit it. “You don’t count, Rey. You don’t count because you’re not mortal.”
“Have the rest of it,” Rey said excitedly, shoving the plate at Eli. “I’m going to make potatoes.”
“You don’t have to,” Eli said, mouth already full. He felt feverish with excitement, hands shaking as he ate. “You really don’t.”
“I want to. And you can sleep in the cart tonight,” Rey added. “On my mattress!”
“I haven’t slept on a mattress in five years,” Eli said.
