A Court of Rage and Wishes

Chapter 11

The following two days were filled with waiting, planning, and more waiting. After an excruciatingly long thirty-six hours, Azriel's shadows returned with an invitation.

The creamy white envelope sat untarnished on top of the large chestnut desk. If Azriel's shadows were accurate, which they almost always were, the real invitee looked similar to her. Honestly, it couldn't have been that hard to find a female with black hair and eyes the color of the darkest coffee.

Ariciya finally reached forward and broke the wax seal of the invitation. Elegant scriptures trailing down a pristine sheet of parchment detailed the time of the gala and appropriate attire; the exact same information on the flyer.

"Her name is Fuellah Eberyin," Azriel said from his perch on the bed. "She's not exactly nobility, but her ties to those in the palace grant her a fairly decent life."

"Does she work in the castle?" Ariciya questioned, her thumb tracing along the edge of the page. She watched with severe attentiveness the way her thumb's flesh yielded so easily.

"No," the male answered, crossing his arms. "She supposedly visits the captain of the guard, but she doesn't work there nor is she married to him. They're likely courting each other. I wouldn't be surprised if she knew her way around the castle."

"So you're saying I have to make out with the captain of the guard?" Ariciya's nose scrunched up. She slid the invitation back into the envelope. "I hope he's not super old. Are you sure you don't want to try these gauntlets on?"

"If you're that opposed to going in, you don't have to," he said with a shrug. "But considering that you're the easiest one to sneak in, it's probably best that you go. I don't think anyone inside would remember the name on the invitation unless they genuinely mistake you for her. Just please don't kill the captain if he follows you around."

"If I do, will you help me hide the body?"
There was a pause. "Maybe."

They flinched as knuckles rapped against the door. Ariciya scented the air before opening it to reveal an impeccably-dressed Lucien. His vermillion hair flowed past his shoulders, unbraided for once.

"What took you so long?" Ariciya asked, ushering him inside.

"Sorry," he began, placing a stack of papers on the desk. "I had to travel around to find all the information we need on the layout of the castle."

"So you found maps?"

"Technically, they're floorplans," Lucien explained. He unfolded the papers and laid them out across the table. "Azriel probably knows the whole layout by now, but we don't. And assuming that they haven't completely remodeled the interior, this should be pretty accurate."

"Good," Azriel said. Looming over the floorplans, he added, "I didn't think the Queens would be stupid enough to publish their palace's floorplan."

"Oh, these weren't found in a library," Lucien informed. A faint smirk flitted across his features. "I found the designers."

"And you tortured them into giving you the papers?" Ariciya inquired, head tilted slightly.

"I like where your head's at, but no," Lucien replied, shooting her a grin. "I used my diplomatic skills like a normal person."

She sighed. "Please tell me you wore a mask. The last thing we need is for someone to identify you and start a war."

"Don't get your wings in a twist; they don't even know I have them," he assured, smoothing down a corner with equimity. "I took them without them noticing."

"It doesn't matter how you got them as long as you weren't caught or in trouble," Azriel stated. A scarred hand traced the hallways.

"I've also collected information on the sentries," Lucien added.