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Why me? Why was the king so insistent on claiming me?
I shook those thoughts from my mind. The why didn’t matter. Every time I thought I had the king figured out, he did something new I didn’t understand. Some curious tinge to his expression, some flash of gold in his eyes. But his motivations weren’t important.
Focus. I pulled a few maps from the shelves. Something here would point me in the right direction. As I smoothed out the first map, I found I couldn’t focus on the delicate lines of ink illustrating the cities and packs of Frasia. There was so much of the country we hadn’t seen. All the places we’d meant to visit together—the small towns, the tall mountain ranges, the deep forests, the sea between Frasia and Askon.
Griffin couldn’t die. Not like this. Not in the arena at the end of the king’s blade. He was my safe place for so long, my only friend in Daybreak, and the only one who listened to me when I spun out my dreams of a different, bigger life. Even now, with this stupid decision, he’d done it for me. He’d wanted that life together, too.
I put the large map of Frasia aside and unfurled a different one. This was a current map, of Efra as it was built today, with its crowded streets and its bustling industry. I sighed as I traced the paths of the city I’d visited. The beautiful walls, the elegant gates, the bustling taverns, Camille’s shop tucked away amid the busyness. Then, the manor itself, with its simple structure, built around the solarium, the four wings and—something I’d never noticed before.
I leaned closer to the map. There was a small pathway that appeared to lead from the northern wing of the manor through the external wall, into the forest. How could it go through the wall? There wasn’t a gate or an entrance marked there. Unless…
Unless it went under the wall.
The north wing was where we’d found those strange artifacts. If someone had wanted to move things in and out of the manor without detection, it made sense to have an unmarked passageway. Whether the pathway belonged to Nightfall or Daybreak, I didn’t know. Or even if it was built earlier.
I rifled through the maps until I found one of the manor itself, tucked on the highest shelf in the archives in a leather tube that was so dusty just pulling it off the shelf made me sneeze. This was a detailed map of the manor, with all its rooms dutifully illustrated and labeled—an architectural blueprint of multiple layers and ink colors. And amid all the dark inks representing the building materials, there were faint gray lines winding under hallways and through walls.
Tunnels. Not just leading from north wing to the forest, but leading all over the manor. From the throne room, from the gates, from the dining hall, even from outside the solarium. A network of tunnels wove under the manor like a circulatory system. If I could figure out an entrance, I could find my way to the dungeons undetected. I spent the next few hours poring over the map, tracing the lines with my finger and murmuring to myself as I worked to copy the details of the tunnel system into my mind. I couldn’t take it with me, but I’d studied maps enough that I could lay it out in my mind.
This was my chance. I’d get Griffin out of here. And maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to find a way out of here, as well. Maybe we’d be able to leave Efra behind and start our lives. A life on the lam—a life constantly looking over our shoulders—but a life nonetheless.
Was that the life I wanted?
I shoved that question out of mind. That didn’t matter—not right now. I had to get Griffin out of here. I owed him that much.
Tonight. I’d take dinner in my room. And while the court dined with the king, we would escape.
21
Taking dinner in my room was no trouble at all. I dismissed Amity and Rue, telling them I was still exhausted and needed time to recover before I had to face the next day, which had both wedding planning and the challenge for the throne scheduled. A lot of emotion, I explained, and Amity and Rue simply nodded in understanding.
I’d miss them, I realized. If this worked, there was a chance I might not see them again. There were plenty of things I’d miss about Efra: my handmaidens, my friends, the activity of the city, even the brisk weather.
But none of it was worth losing Griffin.
Once I was sure they were gone, I changed briskly into a simple pair of dark trousers with a tunic and functional boots. All were given to me by Camille—training clothes, for afternoons spent in the arena. I pulled my cloak over my shoulders and tucked my knife into my waistband.
Then, for the first time, I pulled on the sapphire necklace Griffin had gifted me when I left for this competition. Everything else I could leave behind. It’d all just be a bad memory soon. But Griffin had given me this necklace to give me confidence, a physical reminder that he’d be waiting for me in Daybreak. He hadn’t exactly waited, but I still wanted it with me as I made my way out of Efra and into my new life. I tucked the pendant under the collar of my tunic.
I looked in the mirror as I braided my hair into a tight, functional plait. This was a risky plan, but something in my chest had settled. It felt right. Wherever this tunnel system took me, I knew that was where I needed to be. In this functional outfit, with a plan of my own, I finally felt like myself instead of a pawn in the games of the Choice.
The sky darkened. The court would be at dinner.
It was time.
I slipped out of my quarters, then glanced around the hallway for any sign of servants or guards. I was met only with silence. Perfect.
I unfurled the map in my mind. According to the chart, there was an entrance into the tunnel system just under the window at the far end of the hall. There, a landscape portrait hung on the wall beside the window—an image of the forest that was visible outside, and a fairly unimpressive rendering of it, at that. I’d thought it was just a boring decorative choice, like most of the decor in the Nightfall manor. Now I wondered if it had a purpose.
I leaned close to the painting, but it was just that: a painting. Dull trees, snow, a gray sky, a few wolf tracks visible in the snowbanks. I wrinkled my nose, leaning closer. There had to be a clue in the painting, something that would show me how to get into the tunnel system. I smoothed my hand over the frame. Did it move? Was there something behind it?
As I knelt down slightly to feel the bottom of the frame, a breeze whispered over my fingers.
There was something there. I knelt further, pressing my hand against the frame. There was a seam between the floor and the wall, where the cold air snuck in.
I traced my fingers along the seam, following it to the corner of the wall under the window. There, barely visible against the dark stone and still covered in dust, was a tiny switch. I grinned to myself. Hidden in plain sight. I glanced around the hall again. I was still alone. So I pressed the switch.
The wall shifted slightly with a clunk that echoed around the empty hall. I scrambled backward, coughing as the seam widened and spit out a spray of dust and dirt. It sounded, and looked, like no one had used this entrance to the tunnel in a long time.
