Her Reputation (The Empire: Book 1)
Page 8
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Rhys watched from the shadows as Phoenix worked her magic with the guards. Though she was unconscious of doing so, she had an impressive memory and seemed genuinely interested in every person in the kingdom, so always seemed to treat each one like a friend. He watched the guards’ reactions carefully. Most were the typical infatuation that she caused – though she was blissfully unaware of their devotion – but there were a few wearing more guarded expressions. One or two of the newest additions looked downright concerned over the Princess’s attention. Rhys frowned. The suspicion of the Princess that was caused by the rumors seemed to be spreading.
He retreated from the peephole behind the tapestry and jogged further down the hidden hallway towards where the visitors were staying. He hoped that he would be able to relieve them of some of their wealth-laden garments before the feast tonight. While everyone was running around in preparation, hopefully he’d have a chance to slip in and out undetected.
He stepped over a pile of debris left from past repairs and pressed an ear against the wall, trying to determine if he’d gotten to the end of the outer hallway yet.
“What if they find out about him?” one of the visitors was saying.
Rhys held his breath to listen more carefully, but the two men shifted so that the echo of the conversation was carried in the opposite direction. Rhys maneuvered around in the cramped area but couldn’t hear their words again until the first suddenly spoke up.
“Ah, Princess, how lovely to meet you.”
Rhys grumbled to himself and abandoned the spot; whatever they had been discussing would be put on hold while the Princess was there and clearly he hadn’t made it all the way down the hallway yet. He brushed a cobweb out of the path in front of him and stepped through, a few of the sticky threads finding their way onto his face. He raked his fingers across his cheeks, trying to rid them of the invisible invasion. He bent over to squeeze through a low hole.
Sliding carefully through a section of wall whose previous wooden beam had long since rotted away, he raised himself back up slowly. Listening carefully, he looked around. It was doubtful that the visitors would have found the secret entrance into their chambers. As far as Rhys knew, he was the only one who knew of its existence. He removed another strand of web off his face. Certainly by the prolific evidence of cobwebs it appeared he was the only one who used it. Although he’d been forced to give up several of his secret tunnels after the discovery of strange tombs within them that he had felt honor-bound to report to the Queen, the majority he had managed to keep to himself. At least he thought they were hidden from all others, but he could never really be sure what the Queen knew.
He shook his head to regain his focus. With patience borne from years of practice, he moved with excruciating slowness to the spot where he knew a pressure-plate would remove part of the wall behind the giant painting of the Three that hung in the guest chambers.
Rhys ran his hand along the edge of the stones, listening carefully to the room beyond to make sure that no one was in the inner chamber. There was only silence. When his fingers hit the slightly raised section of rock, he pushed it.
The door swung in, rolling on hidden wheels beneath. Only the scraping against the floor where dust slowed its motion betrayed the action. Still hearing nothing, Rhys pressed his hand against the back of the painting and moved it forward. It shifted about an inch, then stuck. Rhys shoved his fingers through the crack and wrapped them around the painting’s frame. He shoved it outwards roughly. It moved another fraction of an inch but then jammed again.
He peered inside through the small crack. The thin sliver of view showed the edge of the bed and a table beside it. At the sight of what the table held, his mouth started watering. One of them had left a coin purse partially open. Inside, he could see the glinting of many jewels.
He pushed harder on the frame, but it wouldn’t budge. He slipped a hand through the crack and strained to reach the purse. He figured if he could just grab hold of the edge of it, he would be able to lighten its load.
No matter how hard he shoved his body through the crack, he couldn’t fit enough to reach the purse. His fingertips grazed the edge of the fabric tantalizingly, but he came nowhere near enough to get any purchase on it to drag it closer.
A noise startled him into jumping back into the shadows. He hurriedly pulled the stone wall back into place. Luckily, it moved more easily in that direction and it slid closed with a dull thud.
“Did you hear something?” a muffled voice asked on the other side of the wall.
Rhys rushed out of there before their strange power could detect him, cursing himself for not having longer arms. He’d been so close.
Back in Rhys’s suite, Jayson told him that he had a visitor waiting in the adjacent room.
“A rather distasteful looking young man,” Jayson commented. The man eyed the dust on Rhys’s clothes with a raised eyebrow.
“Everyone from the city looks distasteful to you,” Rhys fired back.
He ran his fingers through his hair to rid them of cobwebs and took a quick peek in the mirror. After scrubbing off a smudge of dirt that had somehow managed to get onto his cheek, he went into the other room.
A small boy with a fuzzy mustache just beginning to appear under his nose sat nervously on the couch. His eyes darted around the room.
“Ah, Michael,” he soothed the boy. “Thank you for coming.”
He turned and stared at Jayson expectantly. Jayson stared back at him. Finally, his servant sighed and gave him a small glare, but removed himself from the room. Having such a friendly and informal relationship with Jayson was mostly beneficial, but every once in a while Rhys wished he had someone a bit more respectful. Rhys turned back to the boy and made a special gesture with his hand, a universal signal among thieves, indicating that it wasn’t safe to speak plainly. “Have you contacted them?”
The boy’s flitting gaze rested on the door that Jayson had exited through a moment before focusing on Rhys’s waiting face. “Yes, though it weren’t easy.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but his eyes were darting around again.
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Rhys agreed, moving forward to surreptitiously hand the boy a gold coin. The boy snatched it up eagerly and ferreted it away into some secret spot in his clothing. A large percentage of Jak’s money had been handed over to the boy, either for his services, or for him to use to bribe someone else. Michael’s work – and Jak’s money – had served to speed along a process that otherwise would have taken Rhys some time to accomplish on his own.
“They are willing to at least hear what you have to say. Several will be wantin’ somethin’ from you, though. Somethin’ to earn their respect.” The boy rose from the couch and snaked his head around to peer behind a privacy curtain. He turned back to look Rhys in the eye. “The one whose name you gave me spoke for you, but the rest wanted more.”
“What did they want?” Rhys asked warily.
The boy shrugged. “Said they’d be in touch. You should be expectin’ three requests. They’ll give you the details then.”
Apparently having said all he came to say, the boy spirited himself away so quickly that Rhys was impressed. He supposed the adrenaline of having been within the palace walls may have added to his usual prowess. He’d chosen this boy specifically and was now glad that he had. It seemed he had made the right choice; they were willing to listen.
Jayson came back into the room and gave Rhys a withering look. Rhys ignored him.
“Are you ready for the feast tonight?” Jayson finally asked, resigning himself to letting the incident go.
“Am I ever ready to attend court events?”
Jayson’s smile returned. Apparently, the thought of being able to torture Rhys with preparations for the feast restored his good mood. “Then we’d better get started,” he replied, much too enthusiastically.