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My flashlight beam illuminated the tunnel. With some effort, I pulled the bookcase shut behind me and latched it in place. If anyone checked on me, they wouldn’t know about the secret passage. The royal secret would be safe.
My feet shuffled over the stones as I worked my way through. The second time around, I noticed more. More cobwebs, a lot more spiders, a mouse that made me squeal, but also two other offshoots that led somewhere. Fitz said the tunnels were built for escape. It made sense that there would be more to them than a simple connection between two rooms. At least one had to lead outside the palace walls. As I moved deeper down the path, I had to wonder where the other paths led.
I reached the end and fumbled with the latch that kept the painting in Fitz’s bedroom against the wall. This had to be the craziest idea I’d ever had. It was one thing to go into his bedroom when I was invited but showing up with no notice?
What if someone else was there?
What if he wasn’t, but his bodyguards were?
I gulped. What if he was changing his clothes?
I groaned internally and shifted the bolt back.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that look on his face, the one that said he knew he would have to face this alone.
I set my palms against the wood door and started to push.
He asked what he would do without me?
I didn’t plan on letting him find out.
The hinge didn’t make a sound as I pushed the backside of the painting, an inch at a time. I peered into Fitz’s bedroom, cautiously letting it fall open. Faint light created shadows and highlighted the rumpled bedspread, but Fitz wasn’t in his bed. Either he hadn’t made it, or he’d tried to go to sleep but had abandoned the idea. The warm glow of light didn’t originate in his bedroom anyway, more like leftovers filtering in from another room in his suite.
My mind raced with a herd of personally derisive and anxiety-ridden thoughts. There were a thousand reasons that Fitz could be out of bed, and more than ninety percent didn’t need my help. But instinct propelled me forward until both of my feet were on his bedroom floor. I held my breath, feeling a thousand percent intruder, but not caring anyway. The crackle of the fireplace gave off the only sounds. One of the double doors was closed, but the other hung open, framing a glimpse at his personal sitting area. That same warm glow illuminated the back of one of the oversized chairs and the glass top of the table. A single mug rested dead center. Was Fitz trying to sleep with warm cocoa, a trick I taught him, or was it leftover coffee that had never been cleaned up? Was Fitz even here? Maybe his bed was messy because he’d been called out to his father’s bedside. Even with the hearth blazing, it didn’t mean he was around. I considered turning back, too nervous about my choice to keep going, but I thought of his face moments after Lilith issued her threat. Civil war. Assassinations. And no one thought to even give him so much as a hug. Too focused on themselves to take care of the one person in the room who’d been a direct target.
No, I couldn’t turn back. Not yet.
As if a reward for my diligence, a heavy sigh filled the still air. I knew that sigh, even years later. With tentative steps, I moved toward the open door, watching as the room gave up its secrets with every step. The fire’s snapping chatter grew more distinct. The faint smell of smoke and charred wood leant a warmth to the air that comforted me. I paused in the doorway and gulped back the emotion that immediately rose as I saw him. If there had ever been heartache personified, it was him.
Perched on the edge of the couch, Fitz leaned forward with his forearms braced against his legs. His head hung low, as if it took too much effort to hold it up. A blanket wrapped over his shoulders, the ends of either side tucked into his tight fists. Shadows danced across his frame, like a playmate who wanted him to snap to life, but still Fitz didn’t move. He hadn’t sensed me yet, or if he had, he didn’t acknowledge it. I ran my tongue over my suddenly dry lips and drew in a slow breath.
“Fitz?”
His head popped up, first to look at the flame in alarm, but then his startled gaze fell on me. All at once, his breath rushed out of him as he realized there was no attack, just me, ambushing him in his bedroom.
My bad.
“Coco, I didn’t expect you.”
“I should have made more noise, tripped on a rug or something.” I was trying to make things better with humor, but he wasn’t picking up on it. “Probably not the best idea to sneak up on a guy who was just threatened with assassination.”
Oof. Why did I say that? I started to backtrack, but Fitz didn’t act like he’d even heard me. His focus had locked onto the fire again and his blank stare chilled me worse than the winter’s air.
“Are you okay, Fitz?”
Fitz’s attention snapped back to me, surprised, as if he’d forgotten I was there. His body shifted and stretched, instantly uncomfortable because of my question. “Yeah, I’m…” The words wouldn’t come and he shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“Did something happen with your father?”
The bob of his head could hardly be called a nod, disconnected from the rest of his body like an afterthought. “He became dizzy after dinner, I guess.” Fitz cleared his throat to erase the rush of emotion. “They told me about it just before the ceremony.”
No wonder he looked shaken earlier. I’m sure he’d wanted to go to his father, but he was roped into the circus of the choosing ceremony instead.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes, sleeping. I just returned from seeing him.” His palm swept over his mouth, then snaked around the back of his neck before it dropped again. “The doctors say he’s stable, at least at present.”
