Page 126 of To Kill a King

“Where did you learn to talk back?”

“I learned a lot of things in the last six weeks, Father. Not the least of which was how to take care of myself.” She glared, standing straight and stepping forward. “And it’s Your Majesty, now.”

The Baron’s face flushed. “A queen in title, but where’s your throne?” He spun in a circle, gesturing to the surroundings. “Doesn’t look like much of a claim to me.”

Ugh. “I should’ve let you rot.” She’d never be able to live with herself if she did, though. Curse her conscience. She turned her back on him, following the others. “Get out of my sight. I’d advise you to avoid my husband, unless you want to end up right back in the dungeon. Because next time, I won’t come for you.”

Chapter 27

Aliya

The next day, Aliya munched on the last of her breakfast—an orange butter-bread roll, courtesy of Pat. He’d even sprinkled some actual sugar on the top, though where he’d managed to find that during a war, she was at a loss. She peeked around the corner of the building at the gate, the principal entrance to the palace.

Bringing her arm to her nose, she inhaled. She still stank of the catacombs, but there was at least a small chance it was all in her head. Three baths later at the public house, and she still didn’t feel clean. There was no way she’d be able to access King Malkov smelling like sewage. Plus, the reek might give her away as the one who emptied his dungeons yesterday.

She laughed. How the guards had scurried around all afternoon. They reminded her of when, as a kid, she poured water on an ant pile.

Aliya studied the soldiers, and from what she could tell, none of the escaped prisoners had been recaptured. Including her father. Not that she cared if the bastard rotted in the dungeon.

She didn’t.

She dragged a hand down her face. Ugh.

As much as she wanted to hate him for forcing her to marry Malkov, he was still the same man who’d cleaned her scraped knees as a child and who’d hired a magic tutor for her, in defiance of the law.

Aliya shook her head and crammed the last bit of the sweet bread into her mouth, ripping her thoughts away from her father. Maybe Pat would consider sharing his recipe. If she was successful in Mission Number Two, she’d love to eat this stuff on a regular basis.

Behind her, leather shifted against stone. Aliya spun around, yanking a dagger from its sheath.

Jalius stood several feet away, his arms raised. “Peace, Your Majesty.” He gave her a wicked smile and beckoned her to follow him. “The mages are here. What’s your plan?”

She followed him deeper into the alley. “I’m not quite sure yet.” Glancing at her skin and hair to make sure they were still dark, she narrowed her eyes. “How did you know it was me?”

“My gift lets me perceive auras.” He waved the fingers of one hand. “Yours is pink, with sparkles.”

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

He laughed. “And the prisoners you rescued yesterday told me about you. The Baron did call you by name, after all.”

A ball of ice coalesced in her gut. Thanks, Father. “So, my secret’s out. How many know?” Would her father try to kill them, too? That was an impossible task, of course…soon, the whole kingdom would know. Her knees went weak.

A secret known by more than one person is no longer a secret, but information to be used.

Her father’s lesson rang as true as the night she learned it, right after he’d killed a servant who had the misfortune of coming upon her mid-change.

Jalius stepped back, his expression guarded. “Just me, and the three mages you freed.” His throat bobbed. “But don’t worry. Human or not, our lives are safer having you, a magic user, on the throne. Revealing you isn’t in our best interests.”

Aliya narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. That was true, for the time being. Since their goal was the same, she would trust Jalius. For now.

After all, the magic users were the only allies she had. Aliya slid her dagger back into its sheath and tipped her head to the sky, sighing.

Jalius relaxed. The gnome was perceptive. It had likely been what kept him alive.

“How many mages did you bring?”

“Come.” He turned and walked down the alley. “There’s a safe place to talk a few blocks this way.” As she followed, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes twinkled. “I was kidding about your aura. It’s not pink, it’s gold, like the queen you are.”

Less than five minutes later, he escorted her into a small apartment crammed between a candlemaker’s store and a seamstress’ shop. The earthy scent of tallow permeated the area and made her want to gag.