Page 33

But if not Terrsaw, then where?

The curtain stirs once more, but this time it is drawn back. Silk skirts appear, heavily embellished in Terrsaw wildflower embroidery. Garish crystals line the hem, the waist, the bust, matched by diamonds hanging from the neck of Cressida, the Queen Consort. The entire garb loses its splendour as soon as the curtain shuts out the light. Here, in a servant’s hallway, Cressida seems smaller. Just a woman in costume.

But her glare is still disintegrating.

“Ruby,” she greets, her voice hushed.

“Your Majesty,” Ruby returns. Mother forgive her but she cannot do away with the formalities so easily. Years of training forbids it.

Cressida looks furtively to the curtain and back again. “This is foolish,” she hisses. “I told you whatever need be said must wait until nightfall.”

“In case you were too deprived of oxygen to hear it,” Ruby hisses back. “Time is running out.”

Cressida looks torn between slapping her and gouging out her eyes.

“I have summoned the iskra witch to the palace,” Ruby continues. “She is due to arrive this night.”

Cressida narrows her eyes. “The iskra witch? And what exactly do you plan to do with her?”

“She might be of use. Perhaps she has a way–”

“The iskra witch is good for very little,” Cressida interrupts. “And completely at the mercy of my wife, as you well know.”

“Which may make her a motivated ally. A powerful woman, forced to remain an outcast, threatened with the full might of the palace–”

“And as unstable as a three-wheeled wagon,” Cressida finishes. “Truly, the woman is of limited substance. You cannot expect to bribe a hermit with societal freedom.”

“I do not expect to bribe her at all,” Ruby says. “I expectyouto.”

Cressida barely contains a huff of mirth. She shakes her head. “The iskra witch cannot help us.”

“And yet, she comes. We may as well glean all we can from her. She will not answer to me, but to you,” Ruby nods her head to Cressida, “she may reveal something useful. Perhaps she has some method to find those who want to remain hidden.”

A small clamour comes from somewhere beyond the dining room.

Cressida’s eyes go cold.“Glacians?”she mouths.

“No,” Ruby says, ushering Cressida backward. “Just the guards returning through the Eastern tunnel… with the iskra witch.”

Cressida delivers her most lethal of glares. “So I see you’ve forced my hand.”

Ruby stares right back. “As you’ve forced mine.”

Despite being freed from the dungeons, Ruby is not free to wander the palace at will. She is confined to a servant’s sleeping quarters and only allowed out when summoned by Alvira.

Thankfully, years of servitude to this castle has lent her the knowledge of every hidden hallway, every servant’s stairwell, and the benefits of courting friendships with most of the palace staff. Darius, the kitchen hand, has been most instrumental, given his tendency to leave lock picks in her food.

Ruby makes her way to the throne room through a private corridor. It is the same one the guards would use to evacuate Queen Alvira and Cressida should they need a quick escape. One only needs to access the library to find it, hidden behind the colossal map of Terrsaw that adorns the wall.

She has never walked these ancient tunnels without feeling slightly panicked. She curses those ancient kings and queens for constructing tunnels so impedingly narrow. Ruby must turn her shoulders sideways as she hobbles down the passageway, biting her lip against the throbbing in her hip and ribs. Cobwebs catch her eyes and mouth, and she resists the urge to splutter and spit. These walls aren’t so thick as to muffle her presence.

When the passage curves to the opening of steep steps, she breathes a sigh of relief. At the bottom, she turns to the wall and runs her fingers between the stones until she finds the seam. She follows it down to a handle – a hidden door to the side of the throne room, concealed only by the Terrsaw flag hanging on the other side. She will have to hope it is enough to conceal her now.

Carefully, Ruby pulls on the handle. In small increments, she widens the gap, until she can place one side of her face to it. She doesn’t dare allow anything more than the width of one eye – just enough to see.

Beyond the edge of the green flag, Ruby spies Alvira and Cressida, adorning their respective thrones. Alvira’s expression is regimented, alert, while Cressida (and for this, Ruby must credit her) looks bored. Her eyes drift slightly to Ruby’s and then away.

“I gave no orders to summon the iskra witch,” Alvira is saying, her brow furrowed.