Chapter 38
Sebastian
I’m wedged behind a stack of flour sacks in the far corner, my back pressed to cold stone, my legs drawn up tight to make myself as small as a man my size can manage.
Getting here was not easy.
I almost didn’t make it through the courtyard.
Breaking into the castle was worse. But I’m in now.
And Isla is somewhere in here.
I couldn’t catch up to her. She moves like smoke through shadow, and by the time I reached the outer wall, she was already gone, scaling the stone like it was nothing. I watched her disappear over a ledge and had to find my own way inside.
I have one advantage she doesn’t. I know this castle.
Every corridor, every stairwell, every servants’ passage, and every hidden alcove.
First, I lived here as a prince and then, as Baldwin.
I walked these halls with a cane in one hand and the other trailing the wall, memorizing each stone, each change in texture underfoot, each draft that told me a door was near.
The castle hasn’t changed. Even sighted, the layout is exactly as my hands and feet remember it.
There is one thing that keeps me going: she hasn’t been caught yet, and she won’t be if I have anything to say about it.
I am growing more certain by the second that I have been a fool.
Not about her mother. About her.
The accusation I threw at Isla sits in my gut like a stone I swallowed whole.
I looked into her eyes, and I told her that she was a liar, when I know her.
I know her courage. I know the way her voice shakes when she’s scared, but she stands her ground anyway.
I know the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not watching, and there is nothing false in it.
I was wrong. I have been wrong about her for a long time, and the damage I’ve done may be beyond repair.
I hope not.
But right now, none of that matters. What matters is stopping her before she does something that can’t be undone. Before she walks into a trap she doesn’t see coming.
I shift my weight, easing the stiffness in my legs, and scan the kitchen.
The space is vast. Stone hearths line the far wall, most of them banked low for the night.
Copper pots hang from iron hooks. The staff has thinned since dinner service ended, but a handful of workers remain, scrubbing pots, wiping down surfaces, sorting through stores for the morning.
I keep my eye on one of them.
A human male, slight of build, with sandy hair that sticks up at odd angles. He moves between the preparation tables.
By the sound of his voice, I know it’s my friend, Ferris. My throat tightens at the sight of him.
I watch him work, willing him to move closer to my side of the kitchen. He goes to the salt stores. Then to the hanging herbs. Then back to the preparation table, where he mixes something in a large bowl.
Come on, Ferris. Come this way.
He gathers a handful of dried rosemary and crosses toward the far pantry. My stomach drops because he’s moving in the wrong direction. Then he stops, going back to a pot, where he throws the rosemary inside.
He walks toward the flour stores.
Finally, he is coming toward me.
I wait until he’s close enough. Until his back is to the rest of the kitchen and his body blocks the gap between the sacks from view.
Then I reach out and grab him.
My hand clamps over his mouth before he can make a sound.
My other arm locks around his chest, pinning his arms. He thrashes, a muffled cry dying against my palm.
I drag him backward, away from the open kitchen and into the narrow corridor that leads to the curing room where the meats hang in long, salted rows.
The air in here is thick with brine and smoke. Haunches of venison and strings of cured sausage hang from hooks overhead. It’s dark and very private, exactly what I need for this conversation. The sounds from the kitchen are muffled.
“It’s me,” I whisper near his ear. “It’s Baldwin.”
He fights harder. His heel connects with my shin, and I grit my teeth against the pain but don’t let go.
“We know each other, Ferris. Please. I just want to talk to you. I’m not going to hurt you. If I meant you harm, you’d already be wounded or dead.”
He goes still. The kind of stillness that comes from fear, not calm.
“I’m going to let you go,” I tell him. “Please don’t scream, I beg of you, my friend. Hear me out, that’s all I ask of you.”
He nods. A small, tight motion against my palm.
I release him.
Ferris spins to face me. His eyes are wide and white in the dim light. His chest rises and falls in rapid bursts. He stares at me, at the face that is nothing like the one he knew, and I see the moment recognition gives way to something else entirely.
“You’re not Baldwin.” His voice is thin. “You lied to me then, and you’re lying to me now.”
So this is what it feels like to be accused of lying by someone you know…someone you like and respect. My mind goes to Isla. I feel worse for it.
“You’re the once-king,” he continues. “The deserter.” He swallows hard. “You’re dangerous. They say you killed a whole host of guards.”
The words land with a dull thud.
“I’m still the same person, Ferris. I’m still your friend.
The man who helped you reorganize the kitchen stores.
The man who bought you an ale or two at The Quails Tavern.
The man who listened to you talk about bread for an entire evening and didn’t once complain.
” I keep my voice quiet and steady. “Baldwin was me. I might have changed appearance somewhat, but it’s still me. ”
Ferris shakes his head. He takes a step back and bumps into a hanging haunch of venison, which swings on its hook.
“You look nothing like Baldwin.” He cocks his head.
“Maybe the shape of your jaw and the way your hair…” He huffs out a breath.
“You’re nothing like Baldwin.” His voice wavers.
“Baldwin was blind. Baldwin was human. Baldwin didn’t…
” He gestures at me, up and down. “Look at you. You’re… you’re not him.”
“I am. Everything that mattered about Baldwin is still here. The spell hid me, Ferris. It took my sight, my memories, my magic. But it didn’t take who I am underneath all of that. Please believe me.”
“I wish I could, but…it’s…it’s all too much.” He drags a hand over his face. “Of all the nights… Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
“I need your help. My friend is in danger. The performer.” I swallow. “The one who rescued me.”
“The one who rescued you,” he repeats. Then his eyes widen further. “The female with the bounty on her head? The one the Ruler General is searching for? She’s here in this very court?” His face crumples. “This is getting worse by the second, Baldwin…um…no…you’re not him… You’re not.”
“I am a version of him. He and I are the same person.”
“Not really.”
“Call me Sebastian,” I tell him.
He chokes out a sob. “I can’t call you that. You’re…you’re…him…the king.”
“I’m your friend. I insist that you call me Sebastian, please. There isn’t much time. I need to reach her before something goes wrong. I need you to take me to her.”
“I can’t.”
“Please.”
Ferris looks at me for a long time. Then he looks at the corridor behind me, toward the kitchen, toward safety and normalcy and a life that doesn’t involve hiding fugitives among the salted meats.
“I liked Baldwin. I’m sure you’re…just as nice, but I’m not getting involved.
” He raises both hands. “I have a good job here. A good life. It’s not much, but it’s mine, and I don’t want to lose it.
I’m just a lowly human; there is nothing I can do for you.
I can’t help a king. I can hardly help myself. ”
“You are needed, Ferris. I wouldn’t ask if there was another way.”
He still looks unconvinced. His eyes dart left and right.
“Have you seen the rot and decay in the deadlands?” I ask.
He pauses. His mouth opens and then closes. “I have,” he says, nodding too many times.
“Have you heard about the humans in the mines? Working until their backs give out. Until they drop dead from exhaustion.”
Ferris looks at the ground. His jaw works. “I’ve heard about them but…”
“The female who needs help tonight is part of the key that will end Snow’s rule. She is important, Ferris. More important than either of us. She is important to me.”
“Do you love her?”
I pull in a breath. “I…um…yes, I believe I do.” I’m shocked at the admission. “Although I will admit I haven’t known her for very long.”
“My father and mother married after just one week, and they are still as in love today,” Ferris says. “But…I’m sorry, I don’t see how one person can make a difference to the realm. I know you love her Bald…um…Sebastian, but I…I can’t.”
“One person who is very strong. One person who has the ability to stand up to the queen. Get enough of such people, and you have an army. It starts with one. Just one. It will start with her. She is the key.”
Silence stretches between us. Somewhere in the kitchen, a pot clangs against stone.
Ferris pulls in a breath. He lets it out, slow and long.
“What do you need me to do?”
Relief hits me hard. I haven’t won yet, but it’s a start.
“I need you to get me into the Ruler General’s chamber.”
Ferris rubs the back of his neck. His eyes are calculating now, running through logistics the way I’ve heard him run through new recipes a hundred times.
“She’s already eaten dinner,” he says. “But she often requests wine and something sweet later in the evening. The order hasn’t come through yet tonight, but it’s expected. ”
“Can you get me past the guards?”
“We should wait until she places her order.”
“It needs to be now. We can’t wait.”
He sucks in a deep breath. “That makes it trickier, but we can try.” He shrugs.
I’ll take it.
“Yes…please,” I tell him.