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CHAPTER TWELVE

Tessa

When I first locked myself in, I could hear the low rumble of people working in the hallways. I occasionally had to hold my breath when someone would come into this supply closet. Now, everything has been silent for so long that I’ve begun wondering if it’s safe for me to take a chance at coming out. There are no windows, no way for me to measure how long I’ve been down here. I think of that pocket watch that the consul had, how just knowing the time of day is a luxury they aren’t aware of.

It feels like hours.

I sneak to the door and press my ear against the wood.

Silence. Absolute silence.

It still takes a while for me to gather the courage to open the door. Everything feels different now. Earlier, I was burning with rage and exhaustion, full of exhilaration from being able to get into the palace so easily.

Now,my thoughts have caught up with me, and all that’s left is panic that I’ll be discovered and Wes’s body will have some company along the gate.

My stomach rumbles, and my body alerts me that I have needs that haven’t been addressed in hours.

I need to get out of the palace.

Finally, I pull at the latch, and the door swings open.

The hallway is empty and dim; only a few flickering lanterns are lit at either end. The few windows I can see are pitch-dark. It must be very late.

Good.

No, not good. When I reach the end of the hallway, I discover that the door at the end is padlocked shut.

Well, of course it is. It’s the middle of the night, and the day laborers have gone home.

Voices suddenly echo down the hallway, and I duck into the room where the girls were changing earlier. My heartbeat is a steady thrum in my ears. Shadows appear in the doorway, and I bolt for the back half of the room. There’s nowhere to hide.

There. A door in the corner. It must be another storage closet. I grab hold of the handle, whisper a prayer that it’s not locked, and yank it wide.

It’s not a closet. It leads to a lush staircase with red velvet carpeting and walls painted with a fancy hunting scene. The steps seem to lead to a hallway at the top. The lights blaze brightly, but the air is heavy and quiet.

That said, in my homespun skirts, I definitely wouldn’t be invisible here, at this time.

I’m frozen in place and not sure what to do or where to go—but I definitely can’t stay here in this stairwell. Part of me wants to dive right back through that door and into the changing room, but another part of me worries that those people will be there again, and I’ll be walking right into discovery.

I need to move. Up I go.

At the top, I peek around the corner, but I find nothing. No guards, no one at all here, but I tiptoe forward regardless. My feet are practiced at sneaking, and I long for my mask and hat.

At the end of the hall, I peek around both corners, and again I see no one. I have no idea which direction is the correct way out of here, but based on how I got in here, heading right should take me toward the back part of the palace. Though the walls and flooring are more opulent here, this is clearly a servants’ passageway. Maybe I can find another staircase and sneak back down to another area that won’t be padlocked. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll find where the Moonflower leaves are stored.

Maybe you can find the king and end his tyranny.

The thought hits me so hard and fast that it pulls me to a stop. I’m alone. This passageway is unguarded. I could find the king, and I could end his life.

But as badly as I want to avenge my parents and Wes, I can’t bring my feet to move. I’ve spent the last few years risking my life to save others. I don’t know if I could look down at someone—even the king or his brother—and kill him.

I think of those daggers driven into Weston’s eyes. Nothing stopped that.

Not even me.

I swallow, my throat tight.

I wouldn’t even need to do something violent. There’s enough powder in my bag to lace the king’s water pitcher if I wanted to.