Taste of Treason by April Taylor

flared yellow then hissed into bright orange flecked with magenta and with a squeal shot up the chimney. Luke nodded, his face grim. Diablerie.
    “Now for the chapel wall,” he said shaking Gwenette’s arm as she stared wide-eyed at the fireplace. She licked dry lips.
    “Of course. We can go down the turret stairs to the lower level from the end of the gallery. Let us wait until the sentries are at the farthest ends and then slip out.”
    Gwenette edged the door open as Luke leaned his head on the wall, eyes closed. He could hear the tramp of the sentries growing quieter as they reached the farthermost part of the corridor. The longer he spent within the Queen’s apartments, the greater the chance of discovery. Although he knew and trusted Gwenette, part of him was uneasy at the thought that his safety was dependent on a woman. Was it just because it was this woman? Or, was it because he had grown to rely on her, something that sat ill with him? With a jolt he opened his eyes and sprang forward, every sense alert. His thoughts were being probed. Had the cleansing spell awoken the enemy? What was paramount now was finishing this part of the enquiry and regaining his house in safety as quickly as was feasible.
    He realized the probing was intended to hinder his mental capacity. It diverted him from the task and slowed him down, so detection by the enemy was probable. Worse, he would be less likely to observe something that might prove vital to his investigation. He countered by visualizing his mind as a curved mirror, accelerating the arc of the invasive inquiry directly back to its source. He grinned when he felt a slight shake in the cosmic balance, realizing the enemy had not expected to be detected and had not prepared for a counterspell.
    The wall outside the chapel had been cleaned and whitewashed. For Luke its location was a blessing and a curse. In a public part of the palace, his risk of detection by the enemy was not as acute. At the same time, anyone coming around the corner from the kitchens or the courtyards would see him and ask questions.
    He had intended to perform a revelation spell on the wall. For a few heartbeats, he would be able to see the writing before it faded back to white. However, the middle of the day towards the end of a meal was not a propitious time. Far better to return when he would be undisturbed. It would give him time to prepare something to thwart any attempt to examine his mind again. That some magic force overlooked the Queen’s apartments was irrefutable. Yes, the
malus nocte
were here.
    Gwenette’s ears, more alert than his, caught the rustle of approaching skirts. She seized his arm, pulling him back into the dark shelter of the chapel. When audible footsteps stopped by the door, she lifted a hanging and draped it over them. Luke heard two distinct sets of feet: the first a light indeterminate tread made by one used to moving silently from place to place, the other heavier and more deliberate. He would wager that Light Foot was smaller than his companion, or mayhap Light Foot was female.
    Disgust filled his head. Were he and Gwenette about to be unwilling witnesses to a sordid tryst? And if so, why did the perpetrators have to choose the chapel of all places? Gwenette’s warning hand on his arm prevented him from obeying his first impulse to leap out, confront the lovers and tell them to find a place more fitting for their squalid behavior. It was a few moments before he realized what Gwenette must have known instantly. There was the sound of rustling clothes, yes and footsteps, but none of the giggling and other sounds that would have assaulted their ears had this been a clandestine meeting of man and maid.
    Luke, certain that discovery was imminent, tensed as the intruders came closer. But whoever stood on the other side of the hanging had not noticed the bulge in the darkness of the corner.
    “Report.” A light voice, male, unremarkable. Sounding almost bored.
    “She is