by Nyna Queen
Alex scanned the terrace once more. Everybody was in a midday slump, enjoying the sun, walking, talking, dozing … The perfect time to check out the Sauniers’ guest quarters.
In a recess close to the doors, all three of the Dubois brothers stood together at a table, drinking coffee. Ah, what a sight! One bloodline and three so hugely different outcomes.
Noticing her approach, Darken put down his cup. Despite the weather, he was wearing his silk gloves. Probably been ordered to by the officials responsible for the organization of the Summerball.
“Lady de Nuy.” His deep velvet voice felt warmer than the sun on her skin. “Are you feeling better this morning?”
“Much better, my lord. Thank you for your concern.”
Tyler wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Are you sure, my lady? It looked pretty bad last night. I thought you might be coming down with something. I’m actually feeling a little queasy myself …”
“I feel fine, my lord,” Alex said with a polite smile. “Josepha fixed me right up.”
“Of course, lady. I’m just worried—”
“If you’re not feeling well, perhaps you should let Josepha take a look at you, too,” Stephane suggested. “In fact, you should go see her right now, while she still has the time. Tonight will be predictably busy.”
Tyler seemed about to refuse but then realized that it would make him look a bit foolish if he took back his previous comment about feeling unwell too. He left, reluctantly, and went to find his niece.
Alex stepped around the table and slipped in between Darken and Stephane. “I’m gonna check out the Saunier’s rooms,” she told them quietly. “Perhaps I can find something that links to last night.”
Stephane frowned, keeping his voice equally low. “Darken hacked into the palace’s security database, so we know which rooms they occupy, but, as we presumed, the suites are magically sealed and the wards can only be keyed by specifically enabled persons. How do you plan on getting in?”
Alex shrugged. “I told you that wards wouldn’t stop me. Let’s see if I can make good on my promise.”
Darken sipped his coffee. “Whatever you’re planning, remember there is also the surveillance system to take into account. All the publicly accessible areas including the corridors are being monitored.”
Tch! They really had no confidence in her at all.
Alex grinned at them in a way that made both men wince. “Just let that be my worry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
WELL then, sugar, let’s see if you’ve bitten off more than you can actually chew.
Alex approached the machina ascendere that had carried her up to the fifth floor, where the guests’ quarters were located. She’d made a quick gear-up-stop at her own suite, which was all the way down the right corridor beside the suites of the Dubois family. The Sauniers’ suite, on the other hand, according to the information Darken had extracted from the palace’s security database, was to the left.
Tricky to get to, but not impossible.
On the way up, some sort of crazy plan had formed in Alex’s head. She was used to flying by the seat of her pants and feeling like she had to justify her every move to somebody else was setting her teeth on edge.
Taking a step toward the machina ascendere, Alex scrunched up her face, pressed a hand to her stomach and then ran-walked to the closest public restroom on the left. Should anyone make an effort to trace her steps, they would know that she’d been down with an upset stomach the night before and then, this morning, under the watchful eyes of a dozen witnesses, had indulged in a breakfast someone of her physique shouldn’t be able to hold down. Nobody should be surprised if she didn’t come out of the bathroom for a longer while, all things considered. Screw dignity!
Alex slipped into the ladies’ room and quickly took inventory. All the stalls were empty, which was to be expected on a perfect day like this, with most people hanging out in the gardens. Alex locked herself into the stall furthest from the entrance, quickly got rid of her dress and sandals, stuffing them into a small waterproof bag, and hid them in the toilet’s water tank. Underneath her dress, she wore nothing but a slinky white top and tiny white hot pants.
Alex let her true skin rise and sensed for vibrations coming from the corridor. Nothing. Goody.
She silently climbed over the door of her stall and checked the handle from the outside. Locked good and proper. So far, so good.
Deciding not to examine herself in the mirror—she already knew she looked ridiculous, thank you very much—Alex walked up to a small, high-set window at the back of the room, opened it and hoisted herself upward until her head was peeking out of it. Right in front of her nose, the wall dropped off steeply, plunging down for more than two-hundred feet. The world spun and Alex’s stomach lurched. Her fingers dug into the window frame. She clenched her teeth to keep her insides, well, inside, and inhaled through her nose. Once. Twice. Three times.
Gradually, the spinning stopped, although her heart kept pounding like mad. Shit! She usually didn’t suffer from vertigo, but damn it, this was high! The people in the gardens below looked like teeny-tiny toy versions of themselves. If she fell at this point, there would be no landing on her feet. Oh no, she’d see it a long time coming before her body smashed on the stones like an overripe melon. Her stomach quivered again. At least, it would be faster than being tortured to death by the palace guard.
Vibrations tugged at the sensitive chords of her mental web. Someone was coming down the corridor. Ah, shit! She couldn’t be found with her ass dangling out of a bathroom window!
Taking another deep breath, Alex used the strength of her arms to push herself up and then flipped around like a gymnast so that she was now facing the palace wall, with her legs still inside the bathroom. Her true skin stretched upward and her center of gravity shifted, which allowed her to stick to the wall like a spider. Gripping the upper window frame, Alex pulled. Her hips got caught on the frame. Oh, come on! Alex wiggled and squeezed, trying to get through. The vibrations reached the bathroom door and stopped. Come! On! Alex yanked herself forward. Her pants ripped a little, but finally, her ass popped free and her own force almost propelled her down into the depths. Alex clung to the wall for dear life. No time to catch her breath. With shaper speed, she felt for a foothold, reached inside the bathroom, put the window into a closed-looking position, and hastily slipped out of view.
Not a moment too soon. Someone had just entered the bathroom.
Phew! Close call!
Stuck to the wall like a slightly battered white spider, Alex gave her heart a few moments to rejoice in the fact that she was still alive. No more sugary desserts for you, sugar!
Finally, she raised her head and looked around. When she’d met with Roukewood on the sixth-floor balcony the previous evening, she’d noticed something curious: The magic wards that covered the front of the palace didn’t continue on the backside of the building, but instead, they formed a transparent dome that also encompassed the gardens. It made sense, of course, to keep people from sneaking into the palace through the grounds. It also made it possible for her to do this crazy little stunt.
Taking a deep breath, Alex started to crab-crawl along the wall while counting off the yards in her head. Even if someone were to look up, she doubted she was visible upon the palace wall in her white clothes and pale skin. Twenty minutes, a couple of scratches, and a few dangerous jumps later, Alex finally reached the windows that, if her calculations were correct, should belong to the Sauniers’ suite. As expected, Alex felt no presence inside. But it wouldn’t stay like that forever.
As luck would have it, there was a tilted window that had been left open to let in some fresh air. That made things a lot easier. Alex examined the window and then went through the tools in her pockets. With all that magic and all those goodies at their disposal, the trueborns apparently didn’t see the need to invest in high-security windows. Good for her, bad for them.
Positioning herself above the window, Alex pull
ed out a small cord and knotted it into a loop end. She carefully slid the cord through the top of the window and down, angling it so that the loop hooked onto the window handle. She gently pulled the cord to the left. Holding onto that cord, she attached a second cord to one of the window’s hinges and tugged until the window was in a closed position. She then pulled again at her first cord, causing the handle to move down, down, down. The moment it reached the right angle, the window opened as if by magic.
Alex grinned. Sometimes the simplest tricks do the job best.
Stashing the cords in her hot pants, she extracted a pair of surgical gloves from her other pocket, which she’d sneaked from Josy’s healing supplies, and slipped them over her fingers. A bit small, but they would work.
Since the open window was above a desk, Alex had to be careful, not to make a big mess as she climbed in. When she finally stood on the floor, she shoved the window into a closed position so that no breeze would disturb the papers on the desk and glanced around.
It was a suite much like her own, brimming with vintage elegance and venerable luxury: a huge canopy bed with pleated velvet curtains; a walk-in closet; a massive wooden secretary; thick carpets; vases with fresh white roses; and plush furniture, all in the colors of ivory and mint green.
At first glance, Alex couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. But then, she hadn’t expected to find incriminating evidence just lying around in the open for any chambermaid to see.
Well then, time to bring home the bacon!
Alex started with the secretary desk, going through all of the papers, lifting writing tools and paperweights, picking the locks of the drawers, and going through their contents. Nothing. Oh, she found some delicate letters—for example, one written by Elizabeth to another senator’s wife, offering them a rather slippery favor for a “partial attitude during the elections” that would surely interest Stephane—as well as a possible guest list for some highfalutin outing that included herself, but nothing that indicated any connection to the abduction attempt on Josy and Max or the poisoning attack whatsoever.
Next was the vanity table. The bedside tables. The trunks. Nothing, nothing, and nothing. Alex knocked on ever surface, checking for a false bottom or secret compartment. She shook out every book and felt through every gap. She entered the walk-in closet and sifted through the clothes, turning every pocket inside out, uncrumpling every sock, and then making an effort to put it all back as it had been.
Nothing. With a capital N.
Alex rolled back on her heels and looked around, frustrated. She had been so sure. There had to be something here. Some kind of hint. A note. Just … something.
Out of ideas, Alex padded into the bathroom and checked the cabinets, sniffing every bottle and flask just to be sure. Shampoo, shower gel, aftershave, mouthwash, perfume—one heavier and sweeter than the other. Yep, that smelled of Lady Saunier all over.
Alex reached for a small, teardrop-shaped flacon that was made of dark blue glass and unstoppered it, bracing herself for another cloying cloud of daisies or patchouli, then cringed at the pungent smell of dirty old socks and citrus.
Wait a minute—valerian? She took another sniff and wrinkled her nose. Yes, there was definitely valerian in there, mixed with some other sleep-inducing agent.
Alex stared at the little flask, the wheels in her head spinning wildly. A few drops of this and you would soon feel like taking an extended nap.
Magic nipped at Alex’s senses. Someone was keying the wards at the door. Oh shit!
Alex jerked and almost spilled the liquid. With a silent curse, she pushed the stopper in, put the flacon back in its place and dashed back into the bedroom.
The doorknob turned. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
With no time to escape, Alex dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed, holding her breath. Her heart pounded.
The door flew open and two pairs of feet, one female, one male, scuffed the threshold. There was a stifled giggle, followed by “shhhh-shh.” The door snapped shut. The female feet instantly vanished from view. There was a loud squeak and then a body hit one of the cabinets. The woman, clearly Elizabeth, squeaked again and giggled like a little schoolgirl. A man moaned “oh Lizzy, ohhh Lizzy,” and the slurpy sounds of kissing filled the room. What in the name of hell—?
Alex risked a peek.
Elizabeth was pressed against the cabinet, while a man was busy slobbering on her neck. A man, who definitely was not her husband. He raised his head a little and Alex could see his profile: middle-aged, pudgy, a pale beard under watery blue eyes. She remembered his face from the previous night. What was his name? Peter … Patrick … Porter! Yes, Porter Olbec, Henry’s main adviser and gofer.
Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy, you naughty little bitch, you. Screwing your husband’s right-hand man.
Lady Saunier’s hands forcefully ripped at Lord Olbec’s shirt, apparently not able to get it off quickly enough. Lord Olbec grunted and grasped her hands in his. “Are you sure Henry’s asleep?” He already sounded out of breath.
Elizabeth ran a lazy hand down his half-exposed chest. “Darling, with the dose I gave the old whoremonger with his morning medications, he won’t wake even if an entire marching band walks by.”
Olbec leered at her. “Lizzy, sometimes you can be quite frightening. How did you manage to get the stuff into the palace?”
Lady Saunier gave him a sharp look. “Don’t call me Lizzy. That’s what Henry does when he is drunk.” She shuddered theatrically. “As for your question: Connections, darling. Connections are everything.” She smirked like the cat that got the cream. “Maurice still owed me a favor for the affair with the boat, so I asked him to write me a prescription for something for my severe sleeping problems.” She swayed her hips against Lord Olbec and he moaned and turned beet-red. “The stress of the election campaign, you know …” The corners of Elizabeth’s mouth fell a little. “Otherwise, it would have been a little more … troublesome to get it in. Next time we’ll have to think of something else.”
So, Alex had been right. The blue flacon contained a sleep-inducing drug. But not for Elizabeth. For Henry. It also must have been what they had talked about over the vis-a at the Saunier Estate. Obtaining a mild soporific was easy enough, but the really heavy stuff was hard to come by and was usually only given out with a medical prescription.
Lord Olbec sighed. “This would be so much easier if we didn’t have to be on guard all the time.”
“I know, darling.” Lady Saunier caressed his stubbly cheek. “I know. But we still need the old pinhead.”
“But—”
“People don’t really care that I am the mainspring behind his achievements,” Elizabeth interrupted with a huff, “but if we want to win the gubernatorial election we do need his name and bloodline. We’ve gone over this a thousand times, Porter. In the past fifty years, there wasn’t a single governor who wasn’t a direct descendant from one of the thirty royal great dynasties, and with all those fusty, hidebound idiots still in charge that won’t change any time soon. Had my sentimental fool of father not married a commoner …” She spat the word and sniffed. “Well. What’s done is done, as they say. Fact is, we need Henry as our figurehead. And once he is the elected governor our prime and prima will have to approve of the marriage between Priscilla and their son.”
Lord Olbec nuzzled her throat while Elizabeth moved her hand up and down his back. “How can you be so sure about that, Liza?”
Lady Saunier’s hand stopped caressing. “It’s not like they have that many options.” She pushed him away and started pacing back and forth.
Alex quickly scrambled a little deeper under the bed, her threads of darkness spinning around her, fusing her with the shadows.
“Who else is there with an acceptable family background? Silvy Shinner?” Elizabeth sneered. “That girl is an imbecile and everybody knows that. Dear Arlington keeps hiding the poor child in that ivory tower of his … Or, perhaps, the little Dubois hatchling?” Her mouth pucker
ed in contempt. “I admit Josepha has grown into a pretty little flower but with that healing talent of hers, the big colleges will soon start to fight over her. And if one of them calls dibs on her, she’ll be off the market. Word is St. Celestine’s College already has cast an eye on her.”
Lord Olbec frowned. “I was surprised to see the girl here,” he said thoughtfully. “After what happened to her and her brother, I expected Stephane to put her under lock and key.”
Elizabeth tapped her cheek with a manicured nail, pacing slowly.
“Stephane cannot show any weakness right now. He’s been in a tight spot ever since those recent shaper attacks.” She paused. “Not that I want to complain since we profited so much from it and the Great Mother knows he could do with being brought down off his high horse. But I must say … going for his children?” She shook her head. “Josepha might be a priggish little snob, but Maxwell is only ten. Some things simply aren’t done.” She stopped in front of Olbec. “The mere thought of someone targeting Priscilla …”
“Who, do you reckon, is behind it?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I have no idea, darling. But, believe me, if I did, I would sell the information to Stephane for a suitable price.”
They grinned at each other, and Elizabeth grabbed Olbec's waistband and yanked him closer to her.
“But enough of Stephane…” She made a coy face, while her fingers slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a tiny, black lace bra studded with pearls and glittering jewel chips that would have made any high-class hooker envious. “I thought you said you had a surprise for me.” She pretended to pout. Her fingers sidled down his chest until they reached the region below his belt.
Olbec stiffened and Elizabeth’s mouth formed a surprised “o.” She smirked and bent toward him, her voice dropping to a husky croon. “A … big surprise.”
Ugh! Alex pulled a face.
Olbec’s eyes became big and hungry and he reached out, eagerly groping Elizabeth’s breasts.
