Years of watching Mel slip around the city like a ghost had taught Edward a few tricks of his own. He hadn't Mel's lithe form perfect for getting out of tight spots—and into them—nor had he her agility, but he could vanish when he needed to.
Shame he'd had nowhere to vanish to the night before.
A fresh sting built under his lids as he remembered Lydia's crawling hands, but he blinked it down and forced his attention to the task at hand. Going about the streets of Thais unnoticed had been hard enough as a prince. As a king—and a dead man—it was almost impossible. He had his cloak pulled down over his hair and his clothing hidden, but one ill-timed breeze might blow back his hood and reveal his face for all of Thais to see.
If even one person recognized him, his game was up.
He hardly took a breath from the time he snuck out of the castle gardens, to the moment he stepped into the shadow of the Lamplight Inn. Tucked beneath the swaying branches of a spring willow tree beside the inn, he allowed himself a moment of respite. Just long enough to calm his racing pulse—he could afford to wait no longer. His father had promised to delay announcing Edward's 'death' as long as he could, but that gave him a few extra moments at best. If the king waited any longer, the servants—and Lydia—would suspect.
Edward's lips curled into a grim smile. Lydia would know as soon as she heard, but she could say nothing without incriminating herself. How would she know that the mark on Edward's hip was a mark of possession and not of a curse unless she had seen it or put it there herself?
She would be furious when she realized Edward had slipped away. She would wail and demand her husband be brought back, but by that time, he would be well out of Thais and out of her reach.
Well, not if he dallied much longer. Edward pushed off from the tree trunk and made his way toward the apartments. Through process of elimination, he had narrowed Mel's place of residence down to two possibilities, and he knew how to narrow it further, but it was a risk.
This entire mission had been a risk from the start, but he hadto take it. He couldn't face the alternative.
With a deep breath, he banged on one of the doors and called, "Mel, come on! You're late for class again. Professor Gray will kill you this time."
A feminine voice groaned. "Go away, Edward. I'm sleeping."
Relief washed over him. "Mel! Thank the gods. Let me in, already. Hurry!"
A half-dressed Stella opened the door, tugging a shawl over her shoulders. "Edward, what are you doing here? Didn't Mel tell you—"
"No time."
He pushed past her and closed the door behind him, locking it fast. Another second, and he had the drapes pulled and the door barred with a chair. He sank into it with a shudder, and tugged his knees to his chest.
"Edward, I—what's going on? Mel told you not to come."
He peered past Stella at a pile of covers on Mel's bed. "Wake her, first. Something terrible has happened, and I have to tell her in person."
Stella paled. "Are you well?"
He let slip a bitter laugh. "No. Not in the least, but wake her. Please. I can't say it twice. I'm not even sure I have the strength to say it once."
Stella nodded and rushed to the bed. "Mel, wake up!"
She sat, groggy and annoyed, and Edward buried his head in his knees. He was trembling.
"What's all the fuss? It's not even dawn yet."
"We had to pull the drapes. It's more like nine, but please. There's something wrong with Edward."
Bare feet slapped to the floor, and covers rustled. "What? What's hap-happen—what the? Who is that?"
Edward shook harder.
"It's Edward, Mel, and he's te—"
She cut Stella off with a fierce hiss. "Edward! Gods above, you dolt! I told you to stay away!"
Edward lifted his face to hers, and opened his eyes. Tears slid from his lashes and into his cloak.
"Please don't be angry at me. I came because I have no choice."
She gasped and cupped his cheeks. "Edward! What's wr—"
Doleful, clanging bells rang out over the countryside, and a clamor of voices erupted all around the house.
"What on Aia?" Mel made for the window, but Edward held out an arm.
"Don't. They're ringing for me."
She flopped, nonplussed, into a chair at the kitchen table. "Okay, I'm confused. Why are the warning bells ringing, why are you here, and why are you so upset? What's gone wrong?"
He trembled and lowered his gaze. "I, I came to tell you, to tell you, don't go to Aveyond."
"What? Why?"
He let out a soft sob. "Because it's no good, not now! I'm not innocent anymore."