Anaisa listened from around the corner, and nearly slapped her hands over her mouth when the king dismissed Trace.
"Sire? Leave you? When—" Trace sounded distressed.
"I told you to leave. I don't care where you go. To live in a hovel a hundred miles away, it doesn't matter. Thank you for your service." King Harold said resolutely.
Anaisa's mind raced. There was a reference to guarding the princess in the note she'd handed the king. He must have figured out that Trace was involved in Barnabas's plot and wanted one less person under the Count's thrall around.
Part of her mind screamed in protest–Trace would do anything to help if he could!--and the other part was relieved that he might soon be out of the line of fire.
"But Sire," Trace tried again. He stopped. Anaisa peeked around the corner. Everyone else must have gone into the room already; only the king, Trace, and the guards were visible in the hallway.
