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He was pale, startled. I wondered ifIwas really the one causing such a reaction in him. “Well... if you will not tell His Majesty just yet—”

I gripped the satin sleeve of his jacket. “I am going to faint from excitement if you don’t tell me immediately.”

“We—we thought we heard a voice. Coming from the Hall of Illusions.”

My eyes widened. “Someone’s in there?”

The boy nodded, his voice trembling as he continued: “We think so. A few minutes ago we heard a woman. Then there was a man’s voice, very soft.”

It reminded me a bit of what Lope had said, about a woman singing in the hall. But a mananda woman speaking... If it was some sort of illusion, it didn’t sound very interesting. Perhaps thereweretwo real people within.

“That cannot be!” I said. “How did they get past the guards?”

He shrugged. “No one has seen a soul pass through those doors.”

A hush swept through the crowd, and then I could hear it, too. A voice, desperate and scratchy, sobbing, as though she barely had any tears left.

Murmurs of confusion and concern swept through the crowd.

A person inside the Hall of Illusions? A person, hidden away,weeping?

It was a foolish thought. An impossible one, with how strictly the doors has been guarded.

My heart thrummed against my breast as I slipped through the crowd. When some people caught sight of me, they gasped and bowed. I ignored them, pressing on closer and closer to the painted-gold door, decorated with carved trees with soaring branches and roots that faded deep into an obsidian abyss.

Even the guards watching the doors had pressed closer, listening, frowning.

There it was again.

But this time the sound sent ice through my bloodstream.

I knew that voice better than my own heartbeat.

“Mother?” I called. It couldn’t be; she was safe by the sea—but why was there a quiver in my voice?

There was one more whimper, so unmistakably hers.

I shot my hand out to grab the door handle, but the knights were too fast and crossed their halberds, barring the way.

From the Hall of Illusions came a loud shattering sound. The nobles behind me gasped and whispered. I leapt back. One of the guards frowned and reached for the door handle, but his partner snapped, “Don’t.”

I stepped back from the door. The eyes of every noble were upon me. Some inched nearer, leaning as close as they dared to the door.

My maids flitted to my side. I leaned against Estel for support, wrapping my arms around her middle. I wished that she was Lope, that she could give me the comfort and the logic that I needed at a time like this, but an embrace would have to do.

“I—I swear it was my mother’s voice,” I murmured. “It’s as if she’s in there!”

“Well... it must be an illusion,” Ainhoa said. “We know nothing else about that room besides its name.”

The very idea made cold, invisible hands grip my stomach. I didn’t know which I hoped for more—that my mother was only one door apart from me, or that she was safe at Lantanas and this was all some trick.

There were two loud claps: staves hitting the parquet. I knew the sound well by now, but it never ceased to make me jolt. The mutterings of the nobles went silent as death.

“Vive le roi!” called the first attendant.

“Long live the king!” echoed the lingering nobles.

“¡Que viva el rey!”