The prince rounded on the warden captain angrily. “The damage has already been done, and accomplished in silence, and with cunning and malicious intent. I am repaid for my trust in my sister with this stab in the back, am I not? I believed in her friendly overtures. I fed innocently on her lies. Now they choke me, as she must have always intended.”

20 THERE IS ANOTHER WAY

An uncomfortable silence froze everyone’s tongues. Prince Gevulin looked around the forecourt as if at a mass of simpletons who could not understand the most basic instructions.

“Who else but the Exalted Prince General of the Imperial Order of Engineers could have halted the messages? Who else could have convinced me the information they gave about the state of the roads was correct? That I need not check by sending any of my wardens to the surveyors’ office or to inquire of any engineers? Simo, have you some other explanation in mind?” He glared at his warden captain, a wiry, weathered man who looked as if he had spent all of his life outdoors tirelessly walking the roads.

Simo bowed his head. “As you say, Your Highness.”

“Ipis?” This to the youngest warden, a stocky, muscular woman with the most stolidly inexpressive face Elen had ever seen.

“Your Highness.” Ipis nodded, wise enough not to argue with a prince, and especially not when he was in this sort of mood.

The prince skipped his gaze over the other wardens and glared at the oldest of the menials, an elderly man with an assured demeanor. Elen recognized him as the menial who had struck her—twice!—with the fly whisk.

The prince’s upper lip quivered. For an odd and almost illusory instant, she caught in his face a glimpse of a frustrated young boy seeking comfort from a trusted adult. “What do you say, Hemerlin?”

The menial bowed with neat precision. He had work-worn hands but a carefully tended face, as if he used the same unguents and remedies as concubines to tend to his complexion. “Your Highness, it lies beyond my purview to comment on the behavior of princes.”

“You, Hemerlin? You know better than I that menials see into every crevice and corner, that you listen past every curtain, that you enter and leave every chamber in the palace as softly as a feather. That it is your duty to be always within reach should we need our hair combed or our tea replenished. Nothing happens that you don’t observe.”

Hemerlin bowed again, arms crossed on his chest. “Your Highness.”

Was his tone ironic? Something passed between the prince and menial that went above Elen’s head, a secret message or a veiled threat.