A Daughter of Winter (The Scented Court Book 3)

The trail loomed steeply before her, littered with caperberry claws, loose stones, and puddles. Pouting, she climbed further and further from the one she loved. She sulked until she could see the pennants topping the west keep. By the time she reached level ground, the hem of her dress was filthy and torn, her boots were soaked, her knuckles scraped. She raised her eyes heavenward, watching the winter clouds shift slowly across the sky. Ferrugin and Eramus whirled briefly overhead before disappearing behind the trees. She closed her eyes as a shaft of sunlight fought its way through to touch her face, as warm as a promise. Her resolve hardened, nosing past this failure. There were other ways to surmount this obstacle.
If they see you again, without a stamp, they might report you, Beazle cautioned, recognizing the hope rising in her heart and not wanting her to be disappointed. Better not to sniff around anymore.
I’m not going to do any more sniffing around, Jess told him as she slipped through a side door. The warmth of the palace embraced them. You are.
Am I?
If I can’t see them with my own eyes, you can at least send me a visual. I need to know they’re ok.
That’s an abuse of power, observed Beazle, but without any real zeal.
Jess smiled. Technically, he was right, it would be an abuse of their powers, but sneaking in to see Sasha and Rialta wasn’t going to hurt the kingdom or anyone in it. Beazle was—even now—getting a thrill from imagining himself slipping unnoticed through the cracks of the old manor. He couldn’t help it. Like Jess, he’d taken to his job as spy, even craved it sometimes.
It’s a stupid rule anyway, Beazle added. They should be allowed visitors.
Jess agreed. She didn’t like stupid rules and felt few qualms about breaking them.