Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
T he next morning, I stalk through the castle halls at a fast clip, dressed warmly in a cloak lined with hidden daggers. An insane idea is blooming in my mind, a plan that may get me killed, but one I can’t let go of. And isn’t everyone in the resistance here risking their lives? Isn’t Meriadec risking his life right now? I’m not waiting around forever, secluded in a giant royal library, while all my allies die.
I glance over my shoulder at the retinue of guards following me and flash them a placid smile. Since I married Talan, the number of guards following me around has nearly quadrupled. Not all of them report to Talan, though. Some are members of the King’s Watch. They are here to report on me more than to protect me.
There are too many of them to mind-control. Even controlling one person feels as if my mind might shatter, and I don’t want to try my chances with more than that. I clench my fists under the heavy weight of my winter cloak, refusing to show the tension in my face.
I’ll have to shake them off the old-fashioned way. Usually, I’d wait until nightfall, then maybe leave through my window, like I did before. But since the night of the flaming arrows, the nighttime patrols have been extra vigilant. And besides, the Vorgium Forest is unfamiliar ground, and I’d rather ride there during daylight.
As I walk closer to the kitchen, the smell of roasting venison reaches my nostrils. I step through wide stone arches into a vast, tiled hall with a towering hearth and catch the eye of a servant.
“Your Highness.” She curtsies.
“I need a slab of venison,” I tell her. “The bigger, the better.”
She blinks. “A slab of venison?”
“That’s what I said.” I speak with the sharp impatience of a royal.
She hurries away. I glance back at one of my guards and roll my eyes, as if sharing my exasperation with him. He frowns in confusion but says nothing.
The server returns with a parcel wrapped in brown paper. The package is slightly damp. “Sorry, I don’t have thicker wrapping.”
“I come from the farms. I’m not squeamish about a bit of deer meat.” I take the packaged meat from her. It’s quite heavy. Good.
When I get outside with the venison, I take the fastest route to the Lost Palace, marching straight out the back gate and onto the winding path.
As soon as my guards realize where I’m going, one hurries to block my way. His cheeks and nose have gone red in the cold, and snowflakes hang in his blond eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the prince isn’t with the dragon anymore. He’s left Brocéliande for the day.”
I frown up at him. “I know that. This is why I’m going. Tarasque is still healing. The king’s favorite dragon needs the finest meat.” I circle around him and keep walking over the snowy path.
“But Your Highness,” he says, striding after me, “only the prince is allowed near the dragon. You mustn’t go there without him. It’s very dangerous.”
“I am the prince’s wife,” I say cooly. “In fact, I rode Tarasque not long ago. She trusts me, and I can certainly give her a snack.”
“Perhaps I should consult with the prince before I allow you to do take such a risk.”
I cock my head. “You want to interrupt the prince’s war efforts in Scotland to ask if his wife can visit his pet?”
His cheeks redden more. “No, I suppose not. But if you go in there, we can’t protect you from assassination attempts.” His voice is rising higher, tinged with panic. “We can’t go near the dragon.”
“Of course you can’t go near the dragon.” I walk faster. “And neither can the assassins. I don’t need your protection while I’m with Tarasque because she’s all the protection I need.”
By this point, we’re a dozen strides from the large structure. The guard grabs my arm, his fingers tightening. “Your Highness.”
I turn slowly and face him. “Do you really need me to remind you what happened the last time a guard laid his hands on me?”
Blanching, he releases his grip on my bicep. I march to the palace door at the end of the path and enter the hall of mosaic tiles. Light slants through stained glass windows. With the venison tucked under my arm, I make my way through the Lost Palace. The air smells of burned wood and charred stone. I ease open the door to the next hall, and a rumbling growl reverberates through my ribs. Two metallic eyes materialize in the darkness.
“Tarasque, I’ve brought you a snack.” Though my throat is dry, I force my voice to stay steady. She doesn’t like weakness, and I don’t want her to assume I’m the snack.
The light through the doorway glitters on her scales. As my eyes adjust, I take in her full form. Without Talan here, she seems even more terrifying—muscular, monstrous. An abomination.
My heart races.
The stones in the chamber are charred black in places, and the air smells of soot, sharp on my tongue.
I keep my body as far from her as I can, still twenty feet away.
She opens her jaws and lets out a roar, filling the hall with smoke. The guards waiting outside are probably wondering when and how to collect my remains.
I unwrap the package and raise the venison high. “Tarasque, do you want this?”
Her eyes narrow on the meat. I take a step toward her, then another. Her head darts forward. With one sudden snap, the meat disappears.
I yank my hand back. It’s a miracle she didn’t bite it off. With a smile, I coo, “Good girl,” just like Talan did.
She blinks, then lowers her head until it almost reaches me. She growls impatiently. It takes me a moment to realize what she wants. Holy shit. I reach up and scratch her under her jaw, as I’d seen Talan do. As I stroke the scales on her throat, she shuts her eyes in pleasure, purring.
“That’s right, you’re a good girl.” I raise my voice so the guards can hear me. “Yes. You just needed attention, didn’t you? Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll stay with you for a few minutes.”
I stroke her throat thoroughly, until I judge she’s completely relaxed. Then I carefully circle her. Her head follows me, but she seems more curious than hostile. I get to the back of the hall, where I find the enormous double doors, and unbar them. I try to push one open. Just…need it…to…budge…a little.
Talan made it seem easy, but the door is as heavy as a truck. Of course, I don’t have nearly the strength that Talan does.
Tarasque lazily shifts, her tail striking the door. It creaks open just enough for me to slip through.
“Good girl.” I grin at her in astonishment, then squeeze out of the opening.
The palace is between me and my guards, so they can’t see me. I creep into the dense woods, hiding behind oaks and birches, and make my way back to the castle and the stables.
Saddling Clover, I lead her by hand to the Messenger Gate, my heart thundering. If anyone notices that I’m missing my usual retinue, my plan is fucked.
All I can do is try to act natural.
The Messenger Gate is heavily guarded, of course. Since Perillos was attacked the night I escaped, all the defenses were strengthened. But lucky for me, the new directives demand a sergeant to command each gate, which means everyone has to follow his orders. And that’s something I can work with.
I approach the gate, and the sergeant strides up to me, his red hair gleaming in the sun. “Your Highness.” He bows.
I nod at him. “Good day. Can you open the gate, please?”
He looks over my shoulder. “Where are your guards?”
I frown. “They were there a minute ago.” I quickly turn and pretend to trip over a stone, toppling into the sergeant’s arms. The moment his hands grip my waist, I dive into his mind.
That’s the last thing I need right now. Talan loses his mind when anyone touches this farm girl, and the man is unhinged enough as it is. He’ll feed me to his dragons. And I can’t let her through. Not without her guards. She seems fairly daft.
“You can let me through,” I whisper in his mind. I can feel him resisting, so I force the tendrils of my magic in deeper.
…Shouldn’t have been late to this morning’s briefing. I saw the captain giving me the side-eye. He has it in for me. Just waiting for me to fuck up…
“You missed something important in the briefing.” I plant the idea deep in his thoughts.
Fuck. What if I missed something important in that briefing? The captain will have me on charges. Talan will have me flayed alive as an example.
Pain carves through my skull, but I ignore it. “They might have mentioned special permits,” I mentally suggest, rooting the idea. “If someone has a permit and you don’t let them through, it won’t end well for you.”
Damn it. I cannot afford to fuck this up. I can’t fuck up the permits. I know what the prince does to people who wrong him…
I shift away from the sergeant, smiling politely at him. “I have a special permit to leave,” I say pleasantly, gritting my teeth at the terrible pounding in my head. “They told you about it at your meeting this morning, right? Talan assured me that you’d be briefed by your commanding officer.”
“Of course…” he says hesitantly, worry in his eyes. “But your guards…”
I straighten. “Talan specifically told me that with a permit, I could leave on my own.” As I speak, I lean into his mind and whisper, It’s fine with the permit. Just let her through. It’s fin e.
“Of course, Your Highness. They told us about this this morning,” he blurts. “At the meeting. The permits.”
He motions for his men to open the gate. I mount Clover, my skull splitting with agony, and gallop past them. The cold wind kisses my skin, but I feel free. No guards, no threats of torture or towering stone walls to trap me.
But the guard’s thoughts ring in my skull.
I know what the prince does to people who wrong him…
The Vorgium Forest is about thirty miles east of Castle Perillos. Beneath a frosty sun, I ride Clover as fast as I can without wearing her out, galloping on short, easy stretches of road. When the ground becomes trickier, I slow to a canter.
A long horse ride leaves a lot of time for thought, to wonder if I’ve made a wildly unhinged decision. Maybe Nivene is right. If Meriadec was caught by Arwenna, maybe she took him to her mother’s manor. Maybe my decision to race into a distant forest based on nothing but the ambiguous fluttering of a metal moth is not the best life choice.
Still, it’s too late to turn around now. I keep riding onward, grimly committed to my mission. My gut instincts have proven trustworthy so far. I cling to that thought, trying to silence the nagging doubts gnawing at my mind.
A track veers off the main road. I think it’s the one I saw on the map, the one that leads to the shores of the Gorre Lake. As I take the trail, sunlight breaks through the treetops, flecking the earth with pale gold. I slow Clover to a walk, the eerie silence setting my nerves on edge.
After a few minutes, the path widens, and I spot the lake, frozen and shimmering like silver. A two-story cream-colored cottage stands a few hundred yards away by the lakeside, its facade crisscrossed with oak beams. At first glance, it looks harmless—a quaint forest retreat for wealthy Fey to unwind—but there’s an unnatural stillness to the place, a sinister quiet, as if all of nature has gone still. Faintly, I smell blood.
I dismount, tying Clover to a nearby tree, and creep forward. In the cold air, my breath fogs around my face, and I pull my cloak more tightly around me. I don’t see smoke coming from the chimney, suggesting that the cottage is empty, but there are fresh hoofprints in the snow.
Hunching down, I approach a window and peer beneath a crack in a wooden shutter. It’s dark inside and silent as a grave. I creep to the door and slip my lockpicks from my boot. The lock should be easy, but my fingers have gone numb from the cold. My teeth are chattering, and takes me a few minutes to unlock it.
I open the door, and the scent of blood hits me. The remains of a fire still smolder in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room.
My eyes adjust. My gut wrenches, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, my head spinning with horror.