Page 84 of Gilded

With a shuddering breath, she grabbed the ladder and scrambled down. On the fourth rung, the wood cracked and split. She yelped and jumped the rest of the way to the floor. Her legs were shaking as she ran down the steps.

She emerged onto the second level and nearly collided with a squat, wrinkled creature with long pointed ears and a once-white apron now covered in grime.

Serilda lurched backward, afraid that it might be another drude.

But no—it was only a kobold. Harmless goblins that often worked in castles and manor houses. Some considered them to be good luck.

But this kobold was staring at Serilda with fervid eyes, which gave her pause. Was she a ghost? Could she see Serilda?

The creature took a step closer, waving her arms. “Go!” she screeched. “They’re coming! Quick, to the king and queen! We must save the—”

Her words were cut off with a strangled gasp. The kobold reached her leathery fingers to her throat as brownish blood began to seep through them.

Serilda turned and fled the other way. It wasn’t long before she again found herself dizzy and turned around. Afraid she was going in circles. She stumbled past unfamiliar rooms, through open doorways. She ducked into the servants’ halls before emerging into a great ballroom or a library or a parlor, and every corner she turned, there were screams crowding in around her. The rush of panicked footsteps. The metallic stench of blood in the air.

Suddenly, Serilda stopped.

She had found the hallway with the rainbow wash of daylight. The seven stained-glass windows, the seven gods heedless of the girl before them.

She pressed a hand against the ache in her side.

“All right,” she said, panting. “I know where I am. I just have to … to find the stairs. And they were …”

She looked in both directions, trying to retrace her steps from the last time she’d been here. Had the stairway been to the left, or to the right?

She chose right, but as soon as she turned the corner, she knew her mistake.

No—this was the strange hall with the candelabras. The doors all closed, except that last one, with its unusual pale glow, the shadows shifting across the floor, the vivid tapestry she could barely see.

“Go back,” she whispered to herself, urging her feet to listen. She needed to get out of this castle.

But her feet didn’t listen. There was something about the room. The way the lights shimmered on the stonework.

Like it wanted to be discovered.

Like it was waiting for her.

“Serilda,” she murmured, “what are you doing?”

All the candelabras had been knocked over by that invisible force when she’d been here last. They still lay strewn across the hallway. Had it been a poltergeist?Thepoltergeist?

She grabbed the first candelabra that she passed, gripping it like a weapon.

Only once the edge of the tapestry came into view did she remember. Last time, this door had slammed shut.

It should not have been open now.

Her brow furrowed.

NO!

The cry attacked her from all directions. Serilda cowered, knuckles tight around the iron candelabra.

The roar came from everywhere. The windows, the walls—her own mind.

It was furious. Terrifying.

Get out!