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Or at least, it would have been, if not for Tiggy.
“Where is he?” she said, darting her head around like a sunflower in a gale. “He isn’t here, Aurie! He isn’t here!”
Aurelius sighed. It had been a mistake to get her involved with the mission again. He’d only needed her for that one piece of information. But now, he couldn’t seem to shake her off. She was probably getting off on the secrecy angle—waiting at his door before dawn, trying to insinuate herself upon the situation, only to duck inside as the rest of the embassy rose with the sun, appearing more dutiful than ever to her high envoy.
He might have suspected foul play there, if not for two things. One, Ms. Securia was continuing to shoot him nasty glances every time they spotted each other across the courtyard. And two, there was no way Teigra was clever enough for that kind of deception.
“Darling,” he said, patting her arm, “we discussed this. We have to stay relaxed.”
His words did nothing to calm her, and he did his best to push her manic energy out of mind.
Because now, things were different.
The mission had moved into a whole different stage. He wasn’t just trying to seduce the prince anymore. Now he was moving into confidant territory.
Because he knew Calix’s big secret.
Not that he liked men. Not that he had ashen passion—which he was now fairly sure was just a cover to explain away his withdrawal from society. A cover for the real reason he hid from others.
He knew that the prince was a therian.
A beast.
A satyr.
And best of all, the prince knew that he knew. He’d seen it at the fountain—that awful little spark of recognition. That meant Calix would be nervous. That meant he would want to talk, to clear up any “confusion.” But there was no confusion. Aurelius knew the truth.
And now, Calix was at his mercy.
A movement at the villa’s entrance silenced the crowd, as a party of four descended toward the rest of their nobility. Zosime headed them, and Aurelius was delighted to see that she looked extremely uncomfortable, dressed in a heavy white himation with gold and red trimming, a single pink flower in her plaited hair.
Aurelius snorted. Many traditions in Ardora were different from Mestibes, but even he knew what this costume meant.
She was being offered as a bachelorette.
Big scary Zosime, the warrior princess, was being trotted out just like any other young woman of eligible age—no better or different from Teigra.
Aurelius clicked his tongue in delight. It was a delicious turn of events.
Calix followed closely behind, wearing a red-purple himation with a laurel wreath in his thick hair. His victory trophy for winning the wrestling at the last Paliad Games, perhaps. He wasn’t wearing a tunic beneath the shoulder-wrapped garment, revealing his magnificent, furry chest to all. He, too, looked nervous, eyes darting around like a scared little rabbit.
Excellent!
The siblings were followed by two older figures whom Aurelius had not yet made the acquaintance of. The woman, who he assumed to be Queen Dimitra, was perfection, her hair up in a coronet of bronze oak leaves, bejeweled with rubies and emeralds.
And beside her, in the crown covered in dagger-sharp bronze thorns that Aurelius had seen in the palace throne room, was—
Teigra hissed. “Is that the king? I knew he was sick, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
There was no one else it could have been. The man at the back of the pack looked like a stunted tree. His limbs were thin. Like they could snap at any moment. His face was pock-marked and hardened, with a yellow tinge across it, like sickly bark.
And yet, despite this appearance, he wasn’t wincing or panting. If anything, he seemed more alive than his children—sharing jokes and slapping backs as he entered the crowd, wielding the special hammers to crack the wax seals upon the amphorae, and having to be pulled away by the queen when he lingered too long at a single stall.
“Come on,” said Aurelius, yanking Teigra through the throng.
The crowd near the royals was just thin enough that he had a clear view, but just thick enough that they hadn’t yet been noticed.
“Honestly, Polimea, this vintage is even better than last season. How do you do it?” said the king, in a surprisingly strong voice.
