The Destiny Detour

The Art of Spying

Rosaliy

Rosaliy had not needed one more responsibility on her plate, but she could hardly say no to Alexander. Truth be told, she had just a little bit of a crush on him. In her defense, everyone did. He was practically perfect. She was even a touch envious of Drake that Alexander found him so intriguing. She was the opposite of interesting. She may have had a skewed perception after living in a palace where everyone was extraordinary, but even her revolution-minded parents were more interesting than she was.

At least Drake was willing to humor her blatant spying. That made fulfilling her obligation easier, although she was the wrong person for this job. After retrieving a platter loaded with enough food to keep a person occupied for sufficient time to be plied with questions, she took Drake to a nook in the Great Hall with the benefit of being in a sunny, public space with all the advantages of being hidden from prying eyes and ears by a curtain of flowering vine between two columns. He immediately settled into the spot completely hidden from the view of passersby but with the best vantage point into the Hall itself.

So far, she had discovered this Drake was a reasonably pleasant Baysellian who seemed happy to lounge on a quiet set of marble stairs and eat spiced pepper rolls by the plateful. Beyond that, she learned he was familiar with the desert which seemed notable. If she was skilled in the art of spying, she might have been able to press this topic in a sneaky way that would pull out information, but she was not skilled in the art of spying, and he would see through her. He was clearly not interested in talking about himself.

In lieu of actual facts, she took to guessing. Maybe he was involved in one of the Bayselle Castle riots a few years back. Queen Kat had been clear she would tolerate no violence at her neutral gathering, so maybe he was hiding his connections. Rosaliy eyed Drake as he finished off some crispy kale chips. He looked strong, like he could handle himself in a fight.

His face tightened—a flash of an expression that was a combination of quizzical and pained. She was staring. Now she was not just a poor detective, she was a rude poor detective. She had already broken her original promise. Drake was interesting.

"Am I keeping you?" she asked suddenly. "You must have something to do."

"Actually," he admitted, downing his third glass of cucumber water, "the more free time I have, the more of Cliff's speeches I have to listen to. You're doing me a favor."

She had a hard time believing that. "Do you work for him?"

A bemused smile crossed Drake's face. His neutral expression was devoid of emotion, and she liked the smile better. "I just came to make sure Cliff didn't get himself into trouble. The stretches between towns are crawling with bandits and the like. Getting himself into trouble here in a cushy guarded palace is all on him."

See, it seemed like he was talking about himself, but he was actually talking about Cliff. This Drake was tricky.

"I have a few friends like that," she mused. "Well, had, I guess. It's been a long time."

"Since...you've had friends?"

That did sound pathetic.

"Well, I still hear from them now and then," she defended her friendlessness, "but here I'm sort of, well...in between." How had this conversation shifted to being a heart-to-heart all about her? "There are Queen Kat and her family and such, and then there are all the students, and then there's...me."

Drake's expression was now tinged with some kind of pity.

"It's not sad," she objected, annoyed. "I'm very busy with the students, and I get to study magic with Athena and Issabeth."