Chapter Forty
Aren
I lie awake on my hard wooden pallet until the first rays of moonlight peek through the windows. Then silently, I creep on my soft-soled slippers out of the pantry and into the dark kitchen. I thought the scullery maid would be here at least, but the kitchen’s empty.
I walk over to the cold, dark oven and look around. Yeah, no one’s here. Maybe I’m being set up or it’s some sort of test. But I’m determined not to give in just yet and examine the oven again, finding nothing out of the ordinary.
Behind oven, the note said. But there’s nothing here.
I’m staring at the oversize, arched recess that houses the oven when I notice a slight discoloration in the mortar between some of the bricks.
If I wasn’t examining it closely, I would have missed it.
Or I may have assumed the wall had been repaired.
I run my fingers over the wall and stop when I encounter a loose brick.
I test it with my finger, and it gives slightly, so I push it harder, until a click sounds deep in the wall behind the oven.
I gasp as a crack emerges in the brickwork, revealing a hidden door.
I quickly push the door open and slip inside, closing it quietly behind me. I test the interior handle, and the door swings open again easily.
Good.
At least I won’t be trapped in here. When I pull the door shut again, I’m plunged into complete darkness. For a moment, I consider abandoning this whole endeavor, but instead, I lean back against the door until my heart rate settles and my eyes adjust.
Then I begin to shuffle forward over the rough-hewn wooden floor. It seems I’m in a cramped corridor barely wide enough to walk down without both my shoulders scraping against the walls. The darkness presses solidly all around, so I keep one hand on the wall and the other in front of my face.
Eventually, I hear soft voices in the distance, and the telltale glimmer of candlelight peers from around a corner several paces ahead.
Seven people stand in a cramped alcove in the tunnel, leaning over a single candle, the light capturing the worry in their faces as they turn to see who’s joined them.
It’s clear that I’ve walked into a small meeting between some of the kitchen staff and a handful of servants I recognize from elsewhere in the castle.
The scullery maid is one of them, and so is Bing, the one-handed cook.
The maid breaks into a smile and reaches for me, pulling me into the alcove. I stumble on some toes and apologize. It’s a tight squeeze.
“Thought you wouldn’t come,” she says. “We were just talking about you. I’m Siena, by the way. That’s Tess, Lambert, Nelson from the stables, Arnfried, Rosamond. And of course, you know Bing by now.”
“Hi,” I say. They are of varying ages and skin colors, though all of them share the same wariness in their eyes. “Where are we?” I ask, keeping my whisper to the same hushed volume as the others.
“There are servant tunnels all over the castle,” Siena says.
Her voice is high, like a mouse. “Tons of them, everywhere, leading to the great halls and bedrooms, so we can appear in any room and tend to the king’s every need.
They forgot about this one or they’d have sealed it up to keep us trapped in the kitchen. ”
“Where are we, exactly? Will anyone hear us?”
“Not if we keep our voices down,” says Siena. “We’re just behind the east wing broom closet. No one else is in that corridor at this time of night.”
I’m simultaneously relieved and surprised. So, the servants really did come out of the walls when we had that first meal with Namreth.
“What is this? Some kind of rebellion?” I ask, half joking.
I realize that all this time, I’ve been wishing for something like this.
I’ve secretly been hoping for a well-oiled resistance in this castle, waiting to strike and take down the mad king.
This would be the kind of underdog story we hear about in legends and heroic songs.
I can’t help my enthusiasm.
“Depends,” says Bing, giving me a once-over. He scratches his unshaved chin with his wrist. “We don’t know you.” He has a haggard look about him, the air of a sellsword, like he’s seen battle—or worse.
“I told you, we can trust her,” Siena says to Bing. “She came in with that prince. She’s a princess.”
“I’m not,” I tell them, shaking my head as an ache I’ve tried to bury these past days blooms in my chest. “I’m definitely not a princess and never will be.”
Siena’s eyes widen. “You’re not? The Loegrian army isn’t going to come rescue you?”
I would laugh if it weren’t so sad. “No. No army. Me and the prince, we… Well, it’s a long story.” The others glance at one another, and I wonder if they know what’s become of Dietan. Maybe one of them is assigned to cleaning the dungeons. I add, “No one’s looking for me, I can assure you of that.”
Siena’s smile falls a little. “Oh.” The girl isn’t any older than fifteen, and her innocence is in full effect.
“Sorry,” I say, a little disappointed myself.
“What are you, then?” Bing asks. “If you’re not a princess?”
I shrug. “Just a barmaid with bad luck.”
“A barmaid?” asks Tess. She’s one of the servants who greeted us when we first came to Engel, a middle-aged woman with a world-weary air. “I saw you, hanging on the arm of that prince. What happened?”
“Like I said, long story.”
“Do you think we have anywhere important to be?” Rosamond jokes.
I don’t recognize her, but based on the shiny burns on her fingers and up her forearms, she probably works with harsh salts in the laundry room.
She turns to the guy next to her, who has been quiet the entire time.
“We’ve got all the time in the world. Right, Arnfried? ”
He grins. He’s a little older than the scullery maid, maybe seventeen or so. “Whatever you are, you’re one of us now.”
It’s a sweet gesture, and it makes me feel a little better, but it doesn’t help our immediate situation. How the hell are we getting out of this damn castle?
Arnfried reminds me of someone, and I realize his name is familiar. “You’re Katharine’s son,” I say, realization dawning. “I met his mothers. They’re well, and they miss you.” A shy smile graces his lips as he places his hand to heart in gratitude.
“How’d you end up here?” Tess asks. “And what’s a Loegrian prince doing with an Alarician barmaid, anyway?”
Bing, who seems to be in charge, holds up his hand. “Enough. Let the lady be.”
“Please, I’m not a lady,” I assure them. I still can’t get over how I almost believed that I could be. “Where are all of you from?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Some of us were born here,” Bing says. “Siena is from western Loegria. Lambert, from the south. A few of us escaped Penrith when the Usurper took over. The rest of us wound up crossing Engel’s borders one way or another, either by our own free will or otherwise.”
Siena gives me a small, shy smile, as if she’s embarrassed to ask. “Did you see Loegria?”
“Yes, we passed through parts of it on my way here.” Then I turn to face all of them. “What do you want from me? Why did you call me to a secret meeting?”
“The way you handled that fire and the fact you found this tunnel with little instruction proves you’re quick-witted.
And you don’t seem inclined to simply give up and accept your fate, which is a rarity around here,” says Bing.
“We meet like this to share information. The king forbids interaction between his servants, and we’re kept intentionally isolated by our respective jobs, so this is the only way we can organize. ”
“Something’s happening soon,” Nelson says. “We think he’s mobilizing his troops.”
“Just because some prince arrived?” Bing asks.
“Who knows why? It’s possible. But down in the stables, we got the order to fit all the horses with new shoes.”
Bing shakes his head. “It’s not enough of a sign. The king’s whims are as fleeting as the wind.”
“It’s different this time,” Nelson insists. He appears a little older than me and has a nervous energy about him.
Living under constant threat from an unpredictable tyrant will do that to a person.
“The day after you arrived—well, your prince arrived—there were rumors about the troops readying for deployment. The Loegrian prince showing up at our gates changed things around here. The army is going to march soon, mark my words,” Nelson says.
“You know, I did notice there’s been an order for more supplies,” says Rosamond. “Tents, bedrolls, waterskins.”
Nelson nods. “Conscripts, too. They’ve sent messengers to all the remaining villages, promising riches to any man or woman who’ll sign up and threatening any villages who don’t provide enough…‘volunteers.’”
“That’s been happening since I got here,” says Bing. “It’s all a lie. There are no riches to be had.”
The group argues some more, trying to discern if there are any other clues to the king’s intentions.
They all have different pieces of the same puzzle, but there are gaps in everyone’s knowledge.
Their efforts are fractured, relegated to sporadic secret meetings in the wall just to know what someone else in a nearby room might be doing.
Siena keeps glancing nervously at me while the rest bicker. She looks just like my sisters, with that same bright-eyed wonder and innocence that makes me want to wrap her up with a blanket and tell her everything is going to be okay.
But everything isn’t okay. I fear Nelson’s right about Namreth’s sinister plans, and with Dietan’s arrival, it can’t be mere coincidence. Maybe Namreth feels more confident moving to attack Loegria now that Dietan’s been eliminated.
Murdered.
I close my eyes, pushing down my grief at the thought of not seeing him again. Never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh.
The liar.
“But why would the king want to send out his troops?” Tess asks skeptically.