(continued from Part II | Act I | Act II | Part IV)
"Oh, and the testimonials were so touching!"
"I know!" the socialite said, almost spilling the meticulously stacked fruit tart she waved around for emphasis. "I was surprised the royal guard had such eloquent members among its ranks! I almost cried when that one stiff fellow with the scar spoke... what was his name again? Sir Hubert? Sir Ferdinand?"
"Sir Frederic!" her friend said, reaching for another tiny pastry on the plate the two of them shared at their usual table just outside the café.
"Yes, him! You would think we'd have run into him at a castle banquet by now, right?"
"Well, maybe we should make that our next priority. I hear he's the new captain of the guard. Good a time as any to make his acquaintance, don't you think?"
"Yeah, and beat Helena to the punch this time." The socialite took a bite of the extravagant dessert in her hand.
"Mm hm. You know, I was kind of expecting our little friend to be there. I’m surprised she wasn’t with the other lookalikes. You think she didn’t want to pay her respects?”
“Wait,” the socialite said as she looked at her friend incredulously, “you can tell them apart?”
“Oh, of course! It’s all in the eyes. It was a fun game I started playing at the banquets whenever I suspected Her Majesty wasn't actually in attendance. I didn’t really talk too much about it because, you know…”
They both shared a laugh. “Treason!”
“Exactly! One of them has a really piercing look, one has that big from-the-outskirts wide-eyed wonder, and… come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing our new friend at any of the official events before. Her eyes are on point, it’s like looking directly into Her Majesty’s—oh there she is, hello!”
The socialite’s friend waved excitedly at Lou as she finally mustered up the courage to turn the corner and walk to her usual table. There was only so much accidental eavesdropping she could stand. Besides, she was starting to get thirsty, and the two socialites didn’t seem to be about to change the subject any time soon.
Lou had hoped she’d get to avoid hearing about her own memorial service, but maybe this was just another one of those days where disappointment was on the menu. Might as well pair it with one of Her Majesty’s favorite drinks.
“Oh hi!” the socialite said, “I’m surprised to see you here today. Aren’t you going to that lookalike meeting?”
Lou froze in place. “The what?”
“Oh right!” her friend said, “your work buddies mentioned it when we ran into them yesterday after the service. Isn’t there a big important meeting at the castle for you all this morning?”
The socialite nodded, snapping her fingers as if she'd just had an epiphany. “The one with the sharp eyes—you know I totally see it now, you’re right—was bemoaning how they were making them go around to the side side entrance, but then the other one said it wasn’t too far from her favorite potato stand.”
“La Petite Frite! Yes!” the socialite’s friend exclaimed. She reached for another pastry, shooing away a particularly industrious street cat. “It’s decent.”
“I mean, it’s no—and she’s gone.”
“Oh wow, look at her go!”
“Maybe she missed the memo.”
Lou knew exactly which place they were talking about. Maybe there still was time. She’d taken off running before she event thought twice about why she was going. Perhaps that was confirmation enough that the desperate need for answers she'd been feeling for the past couple of weeks was coming to a boil. And where better to get them than the castle?
Whoever was debriefing the royal decoys would hopefully know something. Even if they didn't... all Lou needed was to get her foot in the door. She knew the royal guard's playbook. She'd written much of it.
She raced around the edge of the upper city, making a beeline for one of the quieter neighborhoods. The place used to see a lot more foot traffic back when the castle was still actively using the eastern gatehouse, but evidently its closure hadn't had much of an impact. The local businesses were still visibly thriving.
There it was: a lone stand on the edge of a grassy plaza, filling the air with the unmistakable smell of fried potatoes. The smell attracted birds, the birds attracted cats, and the cats kept the birds at bay. The result was a tenuous peace that reigned over the area, allowing residents and visitors alike to spend some time there with a savory treat without having to worry too much about defending it from the local urban wildlife.
Lou's breath caught in her throat as her eyes searched for a sign of the royal decoys, of customers, anyone—oh, thank the gods! She exhaled as soon as she saw them. Two feminine figures with long golden hair, walking away with snacks in hand.
She wasn't too late. There was still time to slip back in, even if just for a moment. There was still a chance to escape this halfhearted attempt at a new routine that wasn't working no matter how hard she tried. She truly wasn't cut out for city life.
"Wait!" Lou yelled out, causing the two to stop and turn around. One of them had styled two long locks into curls that framed her face, while the other had tied most of her hair into a ponytail. Other than that, they were practically identical; the three of them were, in fact. But only to an unsuspecting outsider.
Lou knew better. The two royal decoys' respective individuality went beyond the difference in their eyes that the socialite had mentioned, though she was correct: one was sharper, one was softer. Lou wondered where she herself ended up in that respect. She also wondered what they were actually called, cursing herself for relying on code names and official titles for the majority of the time they had worked together.
Decoy A—the sharp one with the curls and the perfect memory, who was trusted with the more dangerous assignments—narrowed her eyes as she saw Lou approach.
As Lou slowed to a stop in front of them, gasping for air after her impromptu marathon, she suddenly realized she had no plan. What was her next move here? She'd helped train them herself, on multiple occasions in the presence of one another. They knew the other existed, but that was it—they hadn't been told there was a third. How was she going to convince them to trust her?
— end of preview
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