Page 91 of Sharpest Court

“A marble, my lady?” Dashiel asked.

“I overheard Holden discussing it with the soldiers,” she explained. “How the harbor house window had been smashed with a marble.”

“Holden divulges sensitive information around you?” Valeria asked.

“Most people do when they don’t realize I’m there,” Perla answered, making me nervous.

Though I’d told her I was here to ensure Holden supplied his forces to the Western War, we hadn’t mentioned the Unbreakable Blade around her. But knowing Perla, she most definitely saw the quick, wary glances now passing among the group.

“The good news,” Lye interjected, slumping on the sofa, “is that the breach sounds like the work of a typical smuggler. There are seven old smuggling routes around the island, most of which are unknown even to the Banarrati forces.”

“Do you know them?” I asked, thoughts of escape routes now ever-present in my mind. Because as the others had pointed out this morning, Holden’s soldiers would search our ship before it departed. For our safety, Val had said, rolling her eyes.

Which meant that Perla wouldn’t be able to board the ship back with us. We would somehow need to find her another route off this island.

And we would have to do so before tomorrow night.

“Even my breadth of illegal knowledge has its limits, Lockpicker. We would only find that information back in the Coal Quarter.” Lye looked knowingly toward Perla. “Though it would’ve been nice to use those routes to get our lovely lady off the island.”

“An escape route will be useless,” Goren said roughly, “as will that key-copying mold, if we can’t actually get hold of the key.”

“Holden never takes it off?” Keil asked Perla.

She shook her head. “Only when he’s resetting the band.”

Val sighed. “Which means, short of manhandling it off him, we still have no opportunity to steal it away long enough to press it into the mold.”

My gaze settled on the fete schedule Val had placed before me. And as I noted the style of festivity around tomorrow’s jolly, I thought of Tari, who had always used her surroundings to create opportunities. “Then maybe we don’t steal it away,” I said, an idea taking root. “Maybe we get him to hand it over.”

“You mean ask him for it outright and wait for him to agree?” Goren huffed a laugh. “Are all courtiers this bright or is it just you?”

Before I could reply, Perla said firmly, “Alissa doesn’t mean asking him outright.”

I met her stare and knew that she—a fellow Daradonian courtier—had understood my meaning. I wouldn’t ask Holden for what I wanted; I would wait until he offered it freely.

“I can get the key,” I said, Perla’s conspiratorial gaze bolstering my confidence. “But it’ll have to be tomorrow night.”

“That’s cutting it close.” Lye grimaced. “You’ll need to give me the pressed mold by ten if I’m to make it back with the copied key before the midnight window.”

I nodded. “I can do that.”

“Then all that’s left to consider is the political repercussions.” Dashiel looked between the Arcuses in deliberation. “If we take Holden’s new tribute away, the work you did on him last night will have been for nothing.”

Because Valeria and Keil had spent last night’s dinner spinning Perla’s presence to our benefit, stating that Erik’s offering proved his goodwill toward both Banarrat and the mainland, and that he wouldn’t join the Western War against them. It was a claim they wouldn’t have been able to make without me here as proof, and they believed it would be enough to induce Holden to sign the military treaty.

But if we interfered with his court, he might retaliate before the treaty renewal even took place.

“Then we need to get Perla off the island without implicating ourselves,” said Val.

“Holden knows how Rheya feels about the tribute system,” Keil said. “If Perla escapes while we’re here, he’ll know we helped.”

“Who said anything about an escape?” Goren asked.

I narrowed my eyes. “Please don’t tell me you want to fake a kidnapping.”

Goren laughed again, humorless. “Kidnapping one Daradonian noble brought us enough trouble to last a lifetime.” He set his axe aside and stood, sauntering toward the breakfast table in a way that made Perla’s expression harden.

As she watched him approach, tipping her chin up to hold his gaze, he laid one palm beside her untouched breakfast plate.