Page 57

She stopped scribbling down her notes with a deep sigh but said nothing. No shock, no surprise—her silence almost read as resignation.

“It’s public knowledge, then?” I asked. “That there are Shadows in the gardens?”

Eglantine pursed her lips. “No, not public. But available for anyone who would choose to see, which the court does not. In the daylight, the nobility may roam the gardens, but when night falls... well, there are many parties to draw one’s attention from such unpleasant things.”

With a pang, I thought of Ofelia. How she would prefer a life like that. Dancing the nights away, surrounded by gilded treasures, sweet morsels, and joyful music.

While monsters bounded through the gardens, into the fields, farther and farther, to find lives to claim.

“Go on,” urged Eglantine.

“It is my understanding,” I continued softly, “that there have been more Shadows than ever before since the Hall of Illusions appeared. Before that, their numbers increased when the opera singer disappeared. And ten years earlier, they multiplied during the funeral for the queen mother. It seems too great a coincidence.”

“Precisely,” whispered Eglantine. The golden reflection of the candle flames made her spectacles gleam. She shakily removed her glasses from her face, setting them on her book. She wiped at her eyes, and I procured a handkerchief for her in an instant.

“There was one other time before that, too,” she said. “Just before King Léo was crowned. We were at the old palace, then, the one before Le Château existed. The king’s father and then his brother had both been claimed by the pox. Yet they couldn’t even have a proper funeral because the monsters appeared mere days after. They were relentless. The royal knights had to fend off the creatures for three long months.... Then, a miracle occurred. The king told us that the gods had provided him with this palace out here in the countryside, a sanctuary. It was an answered prayer.”

Eglantine’s lip trembled. “I believed it. I believed inthis. I was a child, then. And my mother had just gone missing. Growing up, I assumed that the Shadows must have—” Her voice broke, and she pressed the handkerchief to her mouth. After a moment, she collected herself and continued at awhisper. “But as I grew, I began to doubt.”

She went silent for a moment, before continuing. “Before the Shadows ever appeared, before Le Château, before everything, King Léo hired my mother to help him with some secret project she could not name. She kissed me farewell, and said she’d be gone for a fortnight traveling with him. Yet the Shadows came, and only he returned.”

“Sagesse?” I murmured. Eglantine’s mother had changed her name, she’d said. She’d called herselfwisdom. My mind had clung fast to this fact, this little bit of poetry.

Despite everything, fondness sparkled in her eyes. “That’s right. That was her name.”

Françoise. The countess. Eglantine’s mother.

“What sort of work did your mother do?” I asked.

The candle flame whipped and flickered, like a moth beating its wings. The sudden movement startled me. Eglantine clutched her shawl against her heart. Her gaze was locked upon the flame.

“My mother was a favorite of the gods,” said Eglantine. “She could pray to them, and they’d answer her. Every time. Sometimes she would read fortunes for a bit of coin or ask the gods to send blessings upon people in their times of trouble.”

My heart leapt. I had only heard stories of people like that, favored people—people like the king. But I hadn’t expected this, what courtiers called impossible. Eglantine had no title—her mother wasn’t a noblewoman. She was ordinary.Like me. And yet the gods heard her prayers.

Eglantine saw my shocked expression. “Yes, her abilities made her quite famous. In demand. But not well liked.” Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “She was not of the...statusthat people expected for one so favored. The king’s blessing was much better received.”

“Then that’s how the king was blessed?” I asked. “She interceded on his behalf?”

“I believe so. The gods did not listen to the king—or the prince, as he was at the time—before then. Only after my mother had disappeared did he become prosperous.” She looked up at me, a determined set to her face. “So days ago when Lady Ofelia appeared, saying her mother had vanished in much the same way... And I never believed that Françoise de la Valliere would leave this court for another kingdom. Her friends are here, her career was here; she was a singer at the most splendid palace on the continent, and she had the favor of the king. It made no sense.”

She pivoted in her chair, pointing at me. “So then. The king, shrouded by darkness that he adamantly denies. And a door to the Underworld. Onthesegrounds that are supposed to be holy.”

I rubbed my forehead in thought. “Why would the king allow a door like that to exist? Why would thegodsallow for such a thing to exist?”

“One god would.”

My blood ran cold. I gripped the table harder. “The king of the Underworld,” I murmured. All I’d learned was slowly fitting together, piece by piece creating the skeletal remains of some hideous beast I’d thought was only fantasy. “King Léo hired your mother to speak to the gods. What if—what if he hired her to speak to...him?”

“It’s possible.”

“How?” The question felt foolish for an instant, before it suddenly thrilled me and sent my pulse galloping. “Cananyonecommunicate with the Shadow King? Can anyone ask him for his favor or—or create a door to his domain?”

CouldI? Could I finally have the answers I’d been searching for my entire life?

Eglantine chose a volume from the pile of books on the desk, this one bound in stark contrast the others, with simple, plain leather. She placed it in my hands.

“I’ve kept it for thirty years. My mother’s journal. She recorded nearly all her conversations with the gods.”