Chapter 12 #2
“Pulled away to alter clothing for the competition,” Gemma says, her hands flexing at her sides.
My face tightens as she reinforces the glamour.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Pirate!”
A royal guard stands in the center of the hallway, waiting for me.
“Coming!” I straighten and tilt my chin at Thea and Gemma.
The guard shoots me a warning glare as I catch up, but he lacks the hardened demeanor the other guards wear like a badge. He’s young, untested.
The kind whose loyalty may waver under the right circumstances.
“Sorry for holding you back.” I send a smile his way and tuck a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. “What’s your name?”
He spares me the smallest tilt of his lips, pressing a dimple into his brown skin. “Julian.”
“Julian,” I repeat, committing it to memory and tucking it away for later. “I’m Harriet, and…”
My words trail off, forgotten as we pass into the east wing—the only part of the castle untouched by the Sky Court’s influence. The wing I have yet to explore.
The walls shine a brilliant gold, and servants scrub at the trees carved into the marble floor. Tattered tapestries hang along the walls, covered in different depictions of the seasons. And above our heads, a thorny blanket of twisting, barren vines cling to the ceiling.
I linger at the back and keep a watchful eye on Kressa and Simon, the latter rubbing his hand against his throat. My temple aches where he landed a blow, but I’ve had worse. And I won’t let it happen again.
A guard steps forward. “Welcome to the east wing, where you’ll find your assigned rooms. Report to the ballroom in four hours.”
The group disperses. Alliances knit together as small groups branch off, whispering and glancing over their shoulders as they walk.
Ignoring them, I meander down the hall and pass a window offering a sweeping view of the mountain range, perpetually capped with a stubborn layer of snow.
Dragging my fingertips over the etched names in the plaques, I stop at a door tucked into the end of the hallway. I trace the indentations and the double consonant—my borrowed name.
Harriet Wells.
I push the door open.
It’s humble compared to the quarters I share with Thea. A simple bed stands against the side wall, white sheets tucked in tight around the thin mattress.
An open doorway to a bathroom is opposite the bed, but it’s the far corner I stride to. I stop beside the armoire and run my hand along the stone wall, fanning my fingers over the uneven surface.
Marianne went to endless lengths to ensure I got this room, even trading nighttime shifts with the housekeeping staff.
My fingers find the narrow seam. “There you are.”
Scooping my fingertips around the edge, I ease the servant door open. A dark staircase greets me, the entrance lined with cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. Damp, musty air that hasn’t been disturbed in years seeps into the bedroom.
I clear the cobwebs and peer down the steps into the dark. Without a source of light, it’ll be impossible to navigate, but—
“What are you doing?”
I flinch back, scraping my face along the jagged opening. I reach for the dagger at my thigh, but my hand comes back empty. Weaponless.
My hand balls into a fist.
Leaning against the doorframe, Kressa taps her cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
I swipe at my face, and my fingers come back with a smear of blood. “Did you come here to defend Simon?” I wipe it off on my shirt. “Or are you wanting to know how I took him down so easy?”
“I’m wanting to know how you survived after I—” Her gaze finds the open doorway behind me. “What’s that?”
“No idea.” I ease the door shut, cringing as its hinges squeal. “It was open when I came in.”
She crosses the room and stops in front of me, running a finger over the hairline fissure in the wall. Her breath skates over my neck as she whispers, “Interesting. Where does it go?”
Sunlight pools on her face, emphasizing a white scar arcing up her jaw and into her hairline. Our gazes lock, and over her shoulder, I catch the shadow of a man lingering in the hallway.
Simon.
I slide between her and the hidden door. “Get out of my room.”
She doesn’t step back. Her face hardens, and in a single movement, she wraps her fist around my collar and shoves me against the wall. “Give me back my list.”
“Sorry.” I tilt my head back and smile at her down the bridge of my nose. “I tore it up and dropped it into a puddle.”
A growl rumbles from her throat, and she reels back a fist, but a knock echoes through the room.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Thea. Her eyes narrow on Kressa, and she shoulders her way around Simon. “One scream from me, and I’ll have every guard running this way.”
Kressa’s hand falls, and she takes a step back, adjusting the collar of her shirt. Without acknowledging Thea, she bares her teeth at me. “Can’t wait for the first trial, pirate.”
My stomach roils, but I school my face into indifference. The final line of her list flashes through my mind—the locations where she’s searched for me, Briar, scribbled out.
Now she’s at her final stop.
She shoves away from me and strides toward the door, ignoring Thea’s searing gaze.
Gemma appears around the corner, clothes piled high on her arms. She spots Kressa and stiffens, pressing herself against the doorframe. Kressa furrows her brow, but shakes her head and sidesteps into the hallway, Simon following close behind.
Thea slams the door shut, nearly nipping the back of Kressa’s boots, and secures the lock. “What’s her problem?”
“She’s a bounty hunter, and Harriet stole her list of marks. In fact, I’m pretty sure she stabbed Harriet.” I sigh and relieve Gemma of the clothes, setting them on the mattress. “Long story short, she wants me dead.”
“Her and fifty others,” Gemma mumbles. She pushes her hair out of her face and scans me. “During the ceremony, Marianne and I will be at the back of the hall, waiting for the signal to meet in your room. Briar’s room, not this one.”
“And I’ll keep Caelus occupied until the participants have been announced and”—Thea gestures to my body—“you’re ready to be Briar again.”
“I’ll only be Harriet for as long as necessary,” I say. “Caelus will notice my absence much more than a single competitor.”
I lead them to the servant’s door tucked in the corner. “This is the easiest way for us to come in and out, but I haven’t had a chance to explore it yet. I’m not entirely sure it’s safe.”
Gemma pulls it open and braces her arms on either side, peering in. “Marianne and I are both familiar with these passageways. The path to your room is relatively straightforward, so I’ll show you another day.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She looks over her shoulder at the bedroom door, her voice taut and shoulders tense. “I can be at the trials and help however I can, but I can’t promise you won’t get caught. And if you do, I can’t stop them from killing you.”
I lower my eyes. “I know.”
“I’ll risk my life for you, but if anyone finds out, I won’t hesitate to say you threatened me and Marianne to help you. I’ll stop at nothing to protect her.”
Thea goes rigid, and her hands curl into fists.
I rest my palm over them. “I understand.”
And I do. Without hesitation, I’d burn down the kingdom to protect Thea. And she’d do the same for me.
“I swear, no harm will come to Marianne,” I promise.
Gemma worries her bottom lip. “Just don’t get caught, please.”