Mere months ago, Clare was just a kitchen maid. Now, she is a decoy for Princess Serene and a novice spy, caught in the royal family's web of secrets. While journeying to Mortise to finalize the princess’s betrothal to Serjah Desfan, Clare lives for the stolen moments she has with Bennick, the bodyguard who is quickly claiming her heart. But when a notorious assassin is hired to kill her, Clare’s life and the alliance hang in the balance.
In Ryden, Grayson prepares to leave for Mortise with his brother, Liam. Their orders are to ignite a war between their enemies, and Grayson has been tasked with assassinating Princess Serene. It may cost his soul, but he is ready to comply, as long as he gets something in return: freedom for Mia, the girl he loves. But the more time he spends with his brother, the more he begins to wonder if Liam is what Grayson wishes he had the courage to be . . . a traitor.
Desfan feels trapped. By his disapproving council, his impending marriage to a stranger, and the imminent arrival of enemy princes who may not want the peace they profess. When a dangerous drug threatens his people, Desfan jumps at the chance to rely on his swords instead of politics. But his investigation uncovers more than he bargained for—a plot that may destroy Mortise from within.
Eyrinthia hovers on the edge of war. Spies. Rebels. Traitors. All must choose a side.
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Author Explanation: This is a fun scene that just can’t seem to make it into a book, haha! I have written
two different versions of this scene; one for Royal Decoy, and then this one for Royal Spy.
Unfortunately, pacing has been an issue both times, and in the end it had to be cut.
Bennick was in a late night meeting with the Winsel’s guards, so Wilf escorted Clare and Vera
to the spare room that had been overrun with gifts. The Winsels said they’d begun arriving a
week ago, offerings from nobles eager to send their congratulations on the upcoming marriage
and alliance.
Ivonne sat at a desk, apparently jotting down notes about a necklace that sat beside her. She
spotted Vera and groaned, dropping the quill at once. “Thank the fates you’re back, my hand is
cramped.”
Vera moved to the desk, easily taking over the inventory while Ivonne shook out her fingers.
Clare scanned the room, marveling at all the paintings, boxes, bolts of fabric, and endless
jewelry. “How are there so many?” Clare asked.
Ivonne snorted as she lifted a thin, narrow box. “Because there are too many nobles trying to
outdo each other.”
“And sometimes themselves,” Venn added. His arm was no longer in a sling, though he still
moved gingerly. “I’ve found three gifts alone from Lady Finn. Apparently, each subsequent one was
‘better’.”
“How did you end up here?” Clare asked.
He sighed. “Just eternally lucky, I suppose.”
“Bennick won’t put him on rotation quite yet, so he might as well be useful,” Ivonne told Clare.
Venn’s face broke into a smile. “You think I’m useful?”
Ivonne just rolled her eyes.
Clare approached the pile in the middle of the floor, spotting a stack of what must be rare books,
and a trunk that was so decorated with gold, she thought it looked like a pirate’s chest. “I still don’t
understand why people would send so much.”
“It’s a royal wedding,” Ivonne said. “But more than that, I think people are worried they might be
seen as unsupportive if they don’t give something truly magnificent.” She spoke over her shoulder to
Vera. “Another gold necklace, this one with small rubies, from Lord and Lady Bent.”
Vera noted it.
“Sometimes there are amusing gifts,” Venn said. “That helps drive away the monotony.”
Clare reached for a framed painting and found the attached card. “A painting from Lord Tripp. It
appears to be a portrait of himself.” She double checked the card. “Done by himself.”
Venn choked out a laugh, dropping the box he’d just lifted. “Let me see!”
Everyone crowded around the less-than-masterfully-done painting, and even Wilf grunted in
amusement.
Vera finally set it aside and made a note in the inventory. “That will definitely go to Iden.”
“Can we please include a note that states it should be hung in the entrance hall?” Venn begged.
“Please?”
Clare returned to the pile and Wilf moved to the far corner of the room to sort through some cards
that had been separated from their packages.
Ivonne found the next strange yet hilarious gift—a beloved dog’s ashes. “To sprinkle in the ocean and
know that a beloved soul of Devendra is with you,” Ivonne read from the card, her eyes wide in
disbelief. “Why? Why would anyone think their dog’s ashes would make a good wedding gift?”
“Nobles are insane,” Venn said. “Haven’t you noticed?”
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