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Petra warned me not to take anything from her siblings’ rooms, as much as they might appreciate a few tokens from the lives that’ve been wrenched from them. We don’t know to what extent the conspirators have catalogued the contents of these quarters to notice if something’s gone missing—or how easily they might be able to track those items.
Still, my gaze veers toward a sitting room I can tell was once Prince Jacos’s from the model ships perched in one of the cabinets. I wish I could bring the royal teens a little something they might find comfort in. They didn’t have a chance to carry anything with them from the palace in Regica but the clothes on their backs, which are stained and travel-worn now.
But really, what would they care about getting back other than their parents, which I can’t accomplish even with my fathomless magic?
So I push onward, through a larger sitting room with forest-green curtains and gold leaves rippling across the wallpaper and into a vast bedchamber that could contain the entire apartment Tinom arranged for us.
A four-poster bed stands in the middle of the space, more forest-green fabric draped around it. A deep gouge has been cut in the mattress, feathers spilling out of it onto the floor.
Lothar knew there might be something hidden in here.
The wardrobe doors and dresser drawers hang open, various kingly outfits of velvet, silk, and wool scattered around them. The mirror on the wardrobe is cracked, as is the porcelain wash basin nearby.
None of that matters as long as the one item I came for has gone undisturbed.
I crouch down and squirm under the bed. Dust tickles my nose, and I rub my face to prevent a sneeze.
Then I take out Petra’s ring and slide its face across the floor.
The boards beneath my flattened body feel perfectly smooth. There’s no reason for anyone to suspect a secret cache lies beneath them. But toward the headboard on the lefthand side, right where Petra told me to look, a gleam lights up on a circular spot that matches the ring’s crest.
I press the ring to that etching, and a small wooden hatch lifts to reveal a square of thicker darkness.
Normally I’d hesitate to shove my hand into a magically hidden space with contents unknown. Today, I’m trusting that Petra wouldn’t send me into a trap.
The opening is only about twice as wide as my arm. I reach in and fumble through the empty recess beneath.
Well, it’s not entirely empty. Though the first object my fingers encounter isn’t a letter but dry leather. What feels like a book.
Interesting. I might as well bring that back too, because I doubt King Konram would have hidden it here unless it was important.
I wriggle the book out and tuck it into the largest pocket on my skirts. Then I grope around in the secret cache again.
There. My hand closes around a piece of folded parchment.
I pull it out and squint at it for just long enough to confirm it’s got the blood-sworn sigil sealing it. Tucking that away too, I push the hatch shut.
In an instant, the floor looks as seamless as ever. King Konram outsmarted Lothar in at least one way.
The guard has no doubt returned to the door that leads into this part of the palace, but that’s all right. I’ve already identified my escape route.
I lope back into the sitting room and ease aside the heavy curtains. The pane is shut to keep out the winter chill, but it’s designed to open in the summer.
I peer down onto the grounds below, at the back of the palace with a pleasant view of the larger gardens and the hunting forest beyond. When I’m sure no one’s wandering around down there at the moment, I pull the window open, clamber out onto the ledge, and slide it shut in my wake.
It’s a longer drop than I’d prefer to jump given the choice, but I’ve done worse. Ignoring the niggling of my magic offering its help, I brace myself, skid partway down the stone side of the palace, and launch myself into a roll that diffuses the worst of the impact.
Then I’m off and running to deliver the key to our true queen’s succession into her hands.
Ten
Ivy
The smell of frying dumplings drifts up to my rooftop perch from a stall at the edge of the city square. My mouth starts to water with a pinch of my stomach, but I hold my position.
My job here is to observe the ordinary citizens milling around below me, not to join them.
At least I’m not alone in my current mission. Rheave has hunkered down on the roof tiles next to me. He’s wearing one of Tinom’s concealing charms too, but when we’re touching, I can see and hear him without the illusion interfering.
