“Here,” Trew said, handing Derren a second pendant on a leather cord. “I crafted this one a bit ago just in case we needed it.”
Derren tugged the necklace over his head, and before the pendant had settled on his neck, his features started to shift and flow like water, magic reshaping his face into Blain’s. The transformation was eerily perfect. He had the same sharp jaw, the same body, and even the same scar Trew wore as part of his bodyguard persona.
“Ready?” Lexie asked him, her voice matching mine. Her glance fell on me. “We’ll see you back here when you’re finished.” She squeezed my hand once and swept toward the front door with Derren at her heels.
Derren—disguised as Blain—opened the door for her.
“I’m feeling much better,” Lexie announced in my voice. “Shall we continue?”
Rising, I watched through the crack in the door as the guards fell into formation around her and Derren. My double strolled back into the market, Derren maintaining the exact distance Trew had kept, the guards mingling around Lexie.
Then one guard paused, frowning at Lexie. “Your voice sounds a bit off, Your Highness. Are you sure you’re well?”
Lexie tilted her head just like I would, her tone perfectly steady. “Quite well, thank you. The tea was quite soothing on my throat.”
Derren added a subtle shift, drawing the guard’s attention with a casual hand on his sword hilt. The guard hesitated, then nodded, falling back into step. They moved on, one looking back once more, as if he wasn’t fully satisfied.
“We have a few hours at most,” Trew said quietly. “The disguise spells embedded in the pendants won’t hold for long. It takes a lot of magic to craft spells that will hold for more than a day.”
“Then we’d better move.”
He secured another pendant around his neck and magic rippled across his form. His face shifted. The disguise he’d worn as Blainmelted away, replaced by different features, older, tired, and with a crooked nose and thin lips. A stranger’s face.
“Impressive,” I said.
“Necessary.” His new mouth curved into a smile that was pure him despite the unfamiliar features. “Can’t have anyone recognizing the rebel king wandering Caldrith’s streets.”
“What about me?”
“I happened to have brought an extra along.” He tugged another pendant out of his pocket and secured it at my throat, stroking my face after.
I felt my body change and rushed to a crooked mirror mounted beside the door, staring into it, my eyes widening.
“I’m old, and I like it.” I sent him a grin that faded too fast.
“Shall we?” He held out his arm, and I linked my hand in the crook of his elbow.
He opened the door and we exited into a narrow alley. The space between buildings was barely wide enough for us to walk single file, all packed dirt and shadows and the smell of rotting vegetables from a bin nearby.
We moved quickly, our footsteps muffled. Pherin launched from my shoulder, soaring ahead to scout the route.
We emerged from the alley into a wider street. Trew’s hand found my lower back, guiding me with gentle pressure.
“You could teach me face-changing magic,” I said softly.
“Could I?” His voice held amusement. “Are you capable of learning that trick, Minx?”
“I can break wards.” I glanced up at him, unable to resist teasing despite the anxiety rushing through me. “Surely changing my appearance would be easier than unraveling complex magical lattices.”
“It’s more demanding than breaking wards. The longer you need the face to hold, the more power you pour in at the start. Get it wrong and it slips at the worst possible moment.”
“Difficult but not impossible.”
“For you? Probably not impossible.” His tone became more serious. “You have considerable power, Minx. It’s just a matter of learning how to channel it properly.”
We turned down another narrow street, this one lined with small shops closed for a late lunch. Pherin swooped ahead, sending images of a clear route, with no apparent threats.
“How much farther?” Trew asked.