I walked quickly, trying to look like a guest who had simply lost her way.

A figure stepped out from a side corridor, blocking my path.

I stopped short.

It was Prince Alexander.

His formal uniform was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, and he looked exhausted.

“Emily,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “What are you doing down here?”

I looked at him, trying to gauge his expression.

Did he know about the accomplice?

Was he part of the distraction?

“I was looking for some quiet,” I said, keeping my tone even.

“The King is looking for you,” Alexander said. “He wants to resume the inquiry in his private study.”

“I need to change first,” I said, gesturing to my dusty clothes.

Alexander stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

I touched my forehead.

My fingers came away wet with a thin smear of blood from the scuffle.

“I tripped on the stairs,” I said. “The lighting is poor.”

Alexander looked down at my jacket.

He reached out, his hand pausing just inches from the zipper where the papers were hidden.