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Unlike the graveyard Sabium had continually threatened me with, the royal crypt was well visited by those who mourned the kings who’d come before him. Not for the first time, I wondered which unlucky stand-in had been killed and disguised as each of Sabium’s ancestors over the centuries.

Tucked away in a secluded copse on the outskirts of the royal gardens, the crypt was a place of reverence. The entrance was marked by an ivy-covered archway, chiseled from stone older than the castle itself. Weathered by time, the arch bore intricate carvings of the royal lineage. Did Sabium find such things amusing? Knowing him as well as I did, I found it likely that he would smile each time he visited this place, enjoying his lies.

The air was cooler inside the crypt, its vaulted ceilings a tapestry of stone. Beneath that ceiling, stone-covered slabs lay in a row, adorned with effigies of kings sculpted with such precision that it felt as if they might sit up and draw breath at any moment. Light orbs flickered over the gold and gems inlaid in the stone.

I stepped closer to the “resting places,” my gaze lingering on Regner, Crotopos, Aybrias, Hiarnus, and finally, the place reserved for Sabium.

My pulse raced as I swept my hands over stone, searching for any kind of hidden cache, a lock to be opened, or a ward hiding the grimoire.

Nothing.

I continued to search, until I was covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust from crawling across the stone floor, unwilling to risk missing even the tiniest clue. Frustration inched along my spine. Perhaps searching the crypt first was a mistake. My spies would have reported back to me if Sabium had been seen visiting it often.

Dusting myself off as best I could, I exited the crypt. It had been early enough when I’d arrived that few people were in the gardens. Now, I was continually greeted, curious gazes meeting my own as courtiers asked about my health, hoping for the smallest shred of gossip.

I repeated my story again and again, hoping I’d removed most of the dust and cobwebs from my gown. My story remained consistent, never straying from the same details. By the time I swept past the fourth group to greet me, I was grinding my teeth.

The grimoire had to be in the treasury. If it wasn’t…

No. It made sense for Sabium to keep it there. After all, it had only been recently that I’d learned of its existence. I would have noticed him carrying a book with him everywhere throughout the blisteringly long years of this false marriage.

Unlike the crypt, the treasury was guarded. The guards lounged against the stone walls, straightening when I approached.

“Your Majesty.”

I nodded at them, and the guard to the right took a key, unlocking the heavy gold door. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Can I help you find something, Your Majesty?”

“No.” I forced a smile. “I merely wish to select a suitable ruby to replace one that became loose from my bracelet.”

It was a weak excuse, but he nodded, his gaze lingering on the heavy gold necklace I wore. “Of course.”

Sweeping into the vast room, I waited until the door clicked shut behind me. Textures and colors engulfed me, pressing on my senses. The treasury had no windows, and the air was heavy, musty, tinged with the faint scent of old gold and ancient scrolls, intermingling with the subtle fragrance of cedar wood lining the walls.

I ignored the chests overflowing with jewels, the ancient armor from battles long won and lost, and the gold bars stacked taller than my body and sprawling across a space larger than Sabium’s ballroom.

Instead, I moved straight for the shelves of ancient books and scrolls.

These were the books that wouldn’t be found in any library. The books that contained histories of this world that scholars would kill one another to get their hands on.

I searched every bookcase, peering behind stacks of scrolls and running my hands along the wood of each shelf, searching for any concealed hiding places.

My chest grew tight, my jaw ached from the clenching of my teeth, and I began my third search of the books.

The door opened, and I whirled.

“Tymedes.”

He gave me a slow smile. “And what are you doing down here, Your Majesty?”

Icy fingers slid around my throat. We wanted eachother dead. That had never been in question. And from the malice in his eyes, he was hoping he could make my death happen.

I forced myself to sniff dismissively. “Why should I not visit the treasury? I am, after all, queen.”

His smile widened. “His Majesty will be looking for you,” he said, and a trickle of sweat slid down my spine. “There will be guests for dinner.”

“Fine.” I was finished here anyway. With a last glance at the treasury, I strode down the hall, ignoring Tymedes’s steps behind me.

Perhaps Nelia would know something about this dinner.