Chapter 399: Preparations in Secret

Chapter 398: Preparations in Secret

Lyria’s POV

That seemed sufficient to redirect my maids entirely.

Their attention shifted from the matter of the books to the matter of midnight with a speed that was almost impressive. What had been idle curiosity only moments before became something considerably more purposeful, and I watched as each of them began quietly considering the implications of what I had said.

Elara stepped closer.

She did not look alarmed, precisely. But the slight furrow between her brows told me that she had begun to regard the matter with considerably more seriousness than before.

"The Duke truly asked this of you, Your Highness?" she enquired.

I nodded.

"He s-said I should b-be disguised. That I m-must not appear as m-myself."

Margery’s eyes widened.

"Your Highness," she said, "you ought to have told us of this the very moment His Grace departed. I would have begun making preparations immediately."

Bridget folded her arms.

"Compose yourself, Margery. A disguise could simply mean a cloak."

Margery turned toward her with an expression of disbelief.

"A cloak?"

"It would conceal her face."

"Only if the intention is to conceal her face and nothing else."

Bridget raised an eyebrow.

"I should have thought that was the principal purpose of a cloak."

"It is not sufficient."

I nodded in agreement.

"He i-insisted a c-cloak would n-not suffice. And that he w-would arrive at m-midnight."

That altered Bridget’s expression considerably.

She uncrossed her arms.

"Your Highness," she said, lowering her voice, "this is not something you ought to have kept from us."

"I d-did not think it was p-particularly i-important," I admitted.

Elara gave them both a measured look before returning her attention to me.

"If His Grace has expressly instructed you to disguise yourself, then I imagine he has some purpose in mind that extends considerably beyond avoiding a passing glance from a servant. And if you are to leave your chambers at midnight, Your Highness, then the matter becomes rather more delicate still."

I nodded.

There was a brief silence.

Then Margery spoke.

"His Grace did not say where you were to go?"

I shook my head.

"He only s-said I must be d-disguised."

Margery considered this for a moment.

"Then we must prepare for the possibility that you may be required to go somewhere beyond the ordinary reach of the palace."

As Margery planned aloud, I turned my attention to Bridget and Debbie.

There was something else I had been meaning to ask them, and this seemed as reasonable a moment as any. I had given them the book of signs some time ago. I did not imagine either of them had mastered it — it had been only a short while since they received it — but there were certain matters that did not need to be spoken aloud.

There were matters that ought not always to be spoken aloud.

I lifted my hands and began to sign.

’Did you find anything more regarding the Baron? Or the man he spoke with?’

Bridget watched my hands with great concentration.

Debbie glanced between us but remained quiet.

Bridget’s response was slow and somewhat clumsy. Her movements were imprecise and she paused more than once to correct herself, but I could follow well enough.

’Still investigating. The Baron left quietly and appeared to be in good spirits. I observed him enter his carriage. If I hear any further news, I shall report it at once.’

I nodded.

That was reassuring, at least.

I returned to my meal and turned the information over as I ate.

Baron Frederick had left joyfully.

That mattered.

He had been frightened before his departure and I had suspected there was something more behind his fear than he had been willing to reveal. But leaving happily did not necessarily mean that everything had been resolved. It merely meant that, for the moment, he had departed without the expression of a condemned man.

I decided that was considerably preferable to the alternative.

Around me the maids had resumed their discussion. Margery was already considering fabrics. I listened with half my attention and kept the other half upon my food. Elara had made it abundantly clear that she considered my neglect of meals an offence of considerable gravity, and I had no particular desire to hear another lecture on the subject.

The conversation continued around me in quiet, measured tones — how the disguise ought to be constructed, how convincing it needed to be, and what precisely might be required to render a princess sufficiently unrecognisable to move through the palace at midnight without attracting unwanted consequence.

It struck me that my maids had taken the matter considerably more seriously than I had.

Perhaps they were right to do so.

When I finally finished eating, Elara gave the slightest nod of approval.

The maids cleared everything quietly. The trolley was wheeled away. The table was wiped clean.

Then they withdrew.

The chamber settled into quiet once more.

I returned to the bed with the cat, settling against the pillows and reaching for the novel I had set aside. The cat arranged itself beside me and I stroked its head absently as I found my page.

There were unfamiliar words scattered throughout — some I could scarcely attempt to pronounce. Whenever I encountered one, I took a small piece of paper from the table beside the bed and wrote it down carefully, intending to look into it further at a more suitable time.

I continued reading.

Time passed without my noticing it, which was becoming something of a habit I had apparently failed to correct despite Elara’s earlier observations on the matter.

I was quite thoroughly lost in the novel when I heard footsteps approaching from beyond the chamber door.

I straightened immediately.

Then came the knock.

My heart gave a small, involuntary start.

I closed the novel quickly and gathered the scrolls from beside me, sliding them beneath the pillow with rather more haste than dignity, and arranged myself into something approximating composure just as the door opened.

The maids had returned.

This time they came laden — linens and fabrics draped over their arms, small cases carried with care, Pippa bearing something wrapped in cloth that she set upon the table with considerably more reverence than its size seemed to warrant.

Margery’s eyes were bright.

Perhaps a little too bright.

"It is time," she said, "to prepare you for your date, Your Highness."