Pushing back her hood, Etta narrowed her eyes. “I am no traitor. I am Persinette Basile.”
The woman disappeared and a few minutes later, the door at the base of the gates opened and Simon peered out, ushering them in.
“Etta.” He helped her dismount. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“What’s happened?”
“Many things.” He nodded toward Edmund in question.
Etta put a hand on his arm. “Simon, do you know Edmund?”
“Of course. We were in the king’s guard together.” He held out his hand. “Good to have you back.”
Edmund shook his hand, and they left Verité in the courtyard without removing his saddle, knowing he’d be okay on his own. The palace was full of people. Some were guards or servants, but others looked like simple townsfolk.
“You look better than you did yesterday,” Simon noted, leading them
