Page 96 of Malice

“I’m afraid you two are forgetting a very important detail.” Laurel snaps her fingers between our faces. “I have not agreed to this plan.”

“But you’re here!” I protest. “You brought her to—”

“To discuss our strategy. Not to go along blindly with whatever you two love-struck imbeciles cook up. I’ve already voiced my thoughts on this plan.”

Aurora and I exchange panicked glances. We need Laurel for this to work.

“Do you have another, then? I’d love to hear it.”

Laurel rolls her shoulders back. Adjusts her cloak. “No,” she admits. “One is nearly as bad as the next. But I want assurances. A return on my investment.”

“Anything,” Aurora blurts out. I knock her with my elbow.

“Alyce is right.” Laurel tilts her head. “A queen needs to be far better at negotiations. Never promise something you might not be able to deliver.”

Aurora slumps a little, chastened. “What do you want, then?”

Laurel doesn’t hesitate. “You will abolish the Grace Laws once you take the throne. Dismiss the men serving on the Grace Council and replace them with Graces.Wewill be solely responsible for the management of the system and the selection of the members of the new Grace Council. There will be no interference from the royals or nobles or anyone else.”

“Done.”

Laurel smirks. “You are not Fae, Princess. I require more than your word.” From the inside of her cloak, she pulls out a tiny gilded knife. One the Graces use when preparing their enhancements. A ruby Briar rose glitters at the base of the hilt.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“A blood oath.” She slices her palm. Molten gold blood trickles down her wrist. “There’s just enough Etherian magic in a Grace’s blood to make it effective.” She wipes the knife on her skirts and offers it to Aurora. “Unless you refuse.”

“You don’t have to do it,” I say, nudging her.

“No. I want to. I have no intention of going back on my word.” She sets her lantern on the ground, takes the knife, and uses it to slit the skin of her palm.

“You will honor your promise regarding the Graces,” Laurel says, holding out her hand.

Aurora takes it, not an ounce of nerve showing. And then light erupts from their joined grip. A golden cord winds around their wrists, followed by a funnel of cold that gusts into the cell with a low groan. The lanterns gutter. Their cloaks snap in the current of wind. And then everything is still.

“Now,” Laurel says to me once the gilded aura fades. “Let’s get you out of here.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The guards are still drooling in their sleep when we tiptoe past them. We’d locked my cell door again and replaced the heavy key ring on the belt of its owner. Laurel even thought to bring me a fresh dress—stolen from the palace servants—and we arrange the one I’d been wearing so that it looked like I was curled up in the rancid straw. But we have no illusions. I have hours, if that, before they discover I’m gone. I can only hope Tarkin won’t punish Aurora for my escape.

My power is waning, depleted from the harrowing events of the last night, but I manage to Shift into one of the guards to emerge from the dungeons. And then find a shadowy alcove to transform into a Grace to exit the palace with Laurel. But my magic is stretched farther than I’ve ever pushed it, and with each step I’m afraid that I’ll lose the Shift and expose myself.

But it holds.

Laurel hails us a closed snow carriage and directs it to the Grace house nearest to the Common District checkpoint, as close as she can get to the black tower without raising suspicion. I let my Shift fall away as soon as the brocade curtains are drawn, sighing as my bones drift back into place.

“The princess will send for me again once she has something for you to curse,” Laurel says as the carriage sets off. “As you said, it will be too risky for her to come to you herself. I will bring it. To the black tower. Where you’ve been training in secret.”

Even in the charcoal dim of the carriage I can see the accusation etched in the angles of Laurel’s face.

I pick at the stitching on my sleeves. “Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Nearly.”

The carriage skids over a patch of ice and I catch myself on the hand strap before I’m thrown forward. Laurel crosses one leg over the other and drums her fingertips against her knees, waiting for me to say more. I don’t.