One of the many perks of palace life was the food. And drink. Zandrue couldn’t forget the drink. All freely available at the snap of a finger. Well, almost. she didn’t get to have servants follow her everywhere, so snapping her fingers wasn’t always enough. But she didn’t have far to go to find someone to bring something to her.


    Now, she just had to make sure the Queen didn’t kick them out before Garet’s funeral, however long it might be until then. Nobles from across the country were being invited, so it might take awhile for them all to get here—months even.


    Cerus would be their greatest ally, Felit?a had said. Zandrue had been perfectly happy with that. She’d had a very fine time with Cerus last time she’d been here. That wouldn’t happen this time though—not just because she didn’t want to make Rudiger jealous, but also because Cerus wasn’t here. That had been disappointing to learn. He was in Lockanith, making war arrangements for the South. Would he come back for the funeral? Maybe, but it would be too late for him to give her any aid.


    What a change. A year ago, Felit?a had been terrified of politics. On their first trip to the Palace, Zandrue had been the one giving Felit?a advice. This time, it had been all Zandrue could do to get a word in over Felit?a’s advice to her.


    “Still in bed. He might be a while.” Rudiger liked to sleep late after a vigorous night—and last night had been vigorous indeed. There was something about palaces and luxury that really turned Zandrue on. She’d kept him going late. She brought her goblet to her lips to hide the smile forming there. She shouldn’t be smiling at Quilla’s discomfort. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”


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    She swallowed the rest of her wine, grabbed a handful of sugar pastries, and headed out. She hadn’t made it very far when a servant girl coming down the hall called to her. “Ms Armida?”


    The curtains of the study cabinet were drawn back, letting a little of the morning light in. An ink stain marred the floor near the top of the stairs, but otherwise everything was in perfect shape. Even though Felit?a wasn’t currently staying in these apartments, someone was keeping them clean and dusted. Probably the person sitting in the chair at the writing desk—not him personally, but he was likely the one ordering it done.


    “That’s fine.” Zandrue walked past him to the window. “I don’t mind standing.” She looked out the window as she was gazing at the view. He could have had a servant bring a chair up, so he wanted to limit her comfort options. She would keep her back to him for a moment longer.


    Zandrue took a deep breath. She had no idea if Quilla would want her telling anyone this, but if anyone could help them at the moment, it was Ardon. “Her former husband, Dyle Aderman is in the Palace. He came to her last night.”


    Zandrue smirked. “Yes. Yes, of course.” Ardon, that old dog. “Though I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Lots to do today. What’s your name?”