Page 68 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

His footsteps echoed back to us until they faded. “I’m surprised you don’t want to ask for the plan,” I said.

Temi shrugged. “I trust Valerian.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And”—she side-eyed me—“it helps that he’s primarily doing this for your sake.”

Feelings fluttered within me. “Why do you say that?”

She cocked an eyebrow up and shifted, jumping onto the ladder, her fingers gripping the poles. “I’m a good judge of character and motives. Do you still have your presentation meeting tonight?”

“I do.”

“Okay. See you at first light. I need to go talk with the others.”

A rush of anticipation washed through me, like the feeling just before jumping a hurdle on horseback. My heart pounded in my throat, but I also felt alive, really and truly so, for the first time in a long time. Gods, that was what I wanted more than anything in life. Freedom and adventure and an opportunity to make my own way.

The prickling energy of that still strung through me the next morning when I tucked down the servant’s passages that sat blanketed in dusky shadows. People bustled by, the occasional one frowning until they caught sight of me and gasped, bobbing their heads and carrying on.

When I reached the entrance to the south hallway, Temi already stood talking with Valerian. He nodded, an affable grin spreading on his face, the stubble along his jaw gleaming. My stomach fluttered as his gaze snagged on me, and he lifted his chin before pulling a bag off his shoulder. “Here.” He pulled out a simple brown tunic. “Slip this on.”

I pulled it over my dress and followed the two of them into the kitchen. Pots banged, a fire crackled from the oven, someone sliced citrus that spritzed into the air. It was chaotic but in a fun way. Everything in the palace remained so quiet and orderly. I’d never been inside the kitchens before, but something about it reminded me of the outdoors, the synchronized havoc of it.

A woman with ruddy curls lifted her face. “Valerian. Are you off today?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat. “More like my role is different presently. But not off, no. Is Mother here?”

She bobbed her head. “She’s just gone to oversee the produce delivery. You know how it is.” She waved a floured hand in the air. “If you aren’t careful, they’ll push a bunch of rubbish buried under decent looking wares.” She nodded towards us. “Are these two assigned to the kitchen?”

“No.” Valerian chuckled. “Not quite.”

A sparkle of mischief swept up across the woman’s features, wrinkling the crow’s feet around her eyes. “Look at that beautiful laugh. When are you going to make me a happy woman, Val?”

He grinned. “Oh, maybe one of these days.”

She formed the dough into a loaf and dropped a cloth on top of it. “You have some young ladies keeping your attention, then?”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. Of course Valerian would have friends among the staff and maybe even deeper relationships. He had an entire life I wasn’t privy to and, in some way, freedoms I couldn’t imagine. If I could slip off in the evening with the person of my choice with no one asking questions about it, I’d do so without hesitating.

“The only ladies getting my attention presently are the horses,” Valerian said.

Or maybe he didn’t exercise those freedoms. And if so, maybe that meant—no. No, my mind could not go there.

She cocked up an eyebrow as another kitchen staff walked past, hoisting a large pot in the air. “Not enough pretty girls heading your way in the stables? Let me know if you’re interested. I know more than a few who work in the palace that would be happy to help divert some of your attention.”

An ugly feeling, like a snake curling up, writhed its way through me. The intensity of it shocked me because I never let myself think about Valerian as a person who might one day fall in love. He deserved it though, to have someone as good as him that loved him deeply. It just ached at me.

Valerian parted his mouth to speak, but at that moment a woman with thick, dark hair pulled back with a headscarf strode into the room, a basket of onions braced against her hip. “Delsa, I know that isn’t you encouraging my son into rakish behavior.”

Delsa scoffed. “If I was half my age, I would do more than encourage it.”

Valerian’s mother clicked her tongue as she dropped the basket and snapped a towel out, popping it against Delsa’s arm. “Go on and leave my son’s virtue intact. Have you started the bread for dinner?”

“I’m getting to it.” Delsa rolled her eyes and patted Val’s cheek, leaving a dusting of flour, before ambling farther into the kitchen.

“Now.” His mother turned back to face him, her sharp gaze jumped to us and then to him again. “Why are you here today? Did you just come to distract my staff?”

Valerian’s mouth dropped, and he pressed his fingers against his chest. “Oh, so I get blamed?”