The stone captivated him so entirely he didn’t hear the footsteps until they squeaked against the marble a few doors down.
Tahki spun around. The footsteps stopped right outside. He shoved the stone back in the post and loosely twisted the knob. As the door handle turned down, he dove under the bed, pulling his feet in as someone entered the room. He recognized Dyraien’s muddy white boots.
Sweat broke out across his brow. Had he seen Tahki dive under the bed? Did he notice the crumpled bedsheets? Had Tahki put everything back in its rightful place? Dyraien seemed like the kind of person who would instantly know if someone had rummaged through his things.
Tahki’s throat pressed against the hard marble, and he could feel his pulse beating. He tried to swallow, but the cold floor constricted his airway. Dyraien walked across the room, sat down on his bed, and released a sigh. The mattress curved downward and pressed against Tahki’s back. He watched Dyraien’s boots fly off, dirt skidding across the floor as they landed.
Tahki held his breath. A strange laugh caught in his throat, and the most unusual need to cry out struck him. How would he explain himself if he was found? Dyraien was paranoid about spies, especially foreign ones. And here Tahki was, hiding beneath the prince’s bed. He couldn’t look guiltier if he tried.
He felt Dyraien lie back onto the bed. The posts shook, and the knob Tahki hadn’t secured jiggled and fell to the floor with a loud clank. The knob rolled in a circle inches from Tahki’s face.
Silence.
Every hair on Tahki’s arm pricked upward. The pressure from the mattress lifted, and Dyraien stood above the knob, his bare feet close enough to touch.
Dyraien reached down and scooped up the knob. If he looked to his left, everything would be over. But his motions were fluid, his blond hair only bobbing into sight a second. The smell of ale and smoke wafted over Tahki. Again there came no sound.
This morning had been one of the proudest moments of his life. The feeling of accomplishment and success had overwhelmed him. He had thought things would finally go his way, that his life from that point on would be a series of consecutive wins. Now he wondered if these were his last moments of freedom. But no, Dyraien wouldn’t imprison him. Tahki would be considered a traitor and killed.
He heard the stone slide down the post and the knob turn. The mattress curved against him again. Dyraien had put the stone back, perhaps figuring the loose knob had been his own error.
At least Tahki prayed he had.
Tahki lay still on his belly for countless minutes, until Dyraien’s snores became audible. Then he crawled out from under the bed and slid across the floor, his face low, his palms slippery with sweat against the marble. He dragged his body slowly so it wouldn’t squeak against the floor. The door lay only an arm’s length away when Dyraien coughed and the bed creaked.
Tahki froze. He didn’t dare turn to see if Dyraien watched him. The moonlight had dimmed, but the marble was so white that Tahki’s body formed a stark silhouette. He tried to hold his breath, but his lungs ached too much. Then a few prayers later, Dyraien’s snores filled the room again.
This time Tahki scrambled forward on his knees. Dyraien hadn’t shut the door tight, so it was easy to sneak through. It wasn’t until he was out in the hall and making his way down the stairs that he took a deep breath. His legs quivered like a thin wire bearing an elephant’s weight.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped. He should have taken the stone with him. But the stone alone wouldn’t have been enough to condemn Dyraien. It did, however, prove that Nii had been telling the truth, because nothing like that stone existed in this world.
Tahki made for the front door. He needed to find Sornjia and see what kind of item the parcel was, and if it would tie into the stone somehow.
“Tahki?”
Tahki startled.
Rye stood in the doorway of his workroom. “I thought you were resting.”
“I was,” Tahki said. “My legs hurt from sitting around all day. I thought I’d go for a walk.”
Rye ran a hand through his hair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He turned back to his workroom, then hesitated. He faced Tahki and said, “Actually, if you have time, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Tahki remembered the promised talk, but now wasn’t the time to tell him about Dhaulen’aii or who he was. Or maybe it wasn’t about that at all. Maybe Rye had remembered the kiss and wanted to tell him he wasn’t interested. Either way, Tahki didn’t have time for a long—and most likely uncomfortable—talk. He needed to find out about the parcel.
“I’m a little tired,” Tahki said.
“I thought you said you were going for a walk.”
Tahki rubbed his wrist. “I was, but suddenly I don’t feel all that good.”
Rye’s eyes lowered. He shrugged one shoulder and said, “I understand. We’ll talk later. When you feel better.” He turned to go, and Tahki couldn’t stand it. Rye sounded so disappointed.
“A minute,” Tahki said. “Just a minute, and then I should get to bed.”
Rye nodded. “Let’s talk in my room.”
DESPITE HIS previous apprehension, Tahki felt a wave of calm upon entering Rye’s room. He’d come to associate the smells of linseed oil and coffee with comfort and safety.
When the door closed behind them, Rye spoke. “I’m not great with talking about stuff like this.” Tahki wasn’t sure what “stuff like this” meant, but Rye clearly had more to say, so he kept quiet. “But these last few days have been so confusing, and I can’t sort it all out in my head, so I need to say it aloud.”
Tahki situated himself on the bed, ready to listen.
Rye paced a little, fidgeted with one of his brass compasses, and then
