Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

64

There was a clever contraption in the palace kitchens that the servants called "the lift." It was a small room behind a door with a platform inside that could be used to haul heavy or unwieldy burdens up to the first or second floors of the palace. Roya, who seemed to be the kitchen boy-of-all-work, helped Aun position her tea cart in the thing and lock down the wheels so that it would not roll.

"You might take a cloth, because sometimes it tips," he advised, "but usually it's only a little drip, not a big spill. Go on and meet it on the second floor."

Aun had never had cause to use the lift herself. She had questions. How would Roya know when the cart was on the second floor? What would happen if he lost his grip in the crank that seemed to control it? But it wasn't the time to ask. She trusted in the seamless machinations of the palace's underbelly and simply thanked him for his help.

Adopting the role of a maidservant tasked with the not-so-unpleasant work of bringing breakfast to the royal wing of the palace, Aun hurried out of the kitchen. She checked before she went to ensure that the knife was still secure in her pocket.

One thing the palace had in abundance was stairs. Aun took a long and narrow way out of the kitchens, then another up to the second storey. The servants' passages were more convenient than the official ones, being set where ready entry or egress was useful for taking care of domestic duties: laundering, cleaning, and feeding the palace's residents. On the first and the second floors, directly above the opening to the lift in the kitchens, there were curtained alcoves where the lift could be accessed via discreet doors. Even though Aun had never used it, she knew right where to find the access point on the second floor. It was at the juncture of the royal wing and the guest wing, very close to where the servants' stairway opened and close, she thought, to where Koren might have posted some of his men.

She started humming softly to herself as she mounted the last few stairs. If there were armed men lying in wait, she did not wish to surprise them by sneaking up on them. Although fear chilled her, she came out of the passage with her skirts gathered up as if she expected nothing but the morning sun to be waiting to greet her.

And so it was. The gleaming halls seemed to be empty.

Aun went right to the lift and drew aside the curtain. She stepped inside, still humming, and opened the door. There, swaying very gently in its narrow chute, was the platform with its morning freight. She unlocked the wheels of the tea cart and carefully rolled it out of the closet. It jolted over the gap between the platform and the floor, but no more harm than a rattling of the china was done.

With a sigh of relief, Aun closed the door and pulled the cart backward out of the alcove. She paused to draw the curtain back into place, then surveyed the tea things: not a drop spilled. Well done, Roya.

When she turned the cart around, there were two armed men watching her. The first was dark. The second was fair, and he was smiling with something like amused curiosity.

She did not have to feign surprise. She'd been expecting them, but still, the sight of them, so out of place, struck her hard. She froze, her eyes wide. Then she took a step back from them, gathering her skirt as if she might run.

"Don't," said one of them. Neither had drawn their weapon, but he laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Just don't, girl."

"Who are you?" Aun breathed.

He shook his head, looking her up and down and then fixing his attention on her cart. "What is this?"

Aun followed his gaze, and for a moment, she honestly could not remember. She stared at the teapots and Norra's pies, grasping for answers. "I—ah—I am just bringing tea to Her Grace. And to Prince Kaori."