With her direct instructions, Lisbet smiled thinly at us, and then left us alone to discuss our course of action. Bain was reluctant to go against the King’s orders, but we all agreed that if we could find Linnea, he’d probably overlook our transgression.
But since Bain was hesitant, Ridley and I offered to talk to Konstantin and Bent first. We could do kind of a good cop/bad cop thing, with Ridley and me both playing the good cop and then Tove taking over as the bad cop, since he’d already taken his toll on Bent.
The King’s guards had attempted to interrogate Konstantin and Bent, but their guard wasn’t quite the same as that of other tribes. The Skojare were small, isolated, and quiet. They had no changelings or trackers, and they rarely interacted with others. That left them with an underdeveloped and somewhat lazy and inadequate guard, since they had no need for anything better.
Now, with a genuine crisis on their hands, the guard had rather wisely turned the investigation over to Ridley, Tove, Bain, and me, since we had far more experience handling criminals than they did.
Despite their low level of crime, the Skojare had a superior dungeon. It was actually buried beneath the bottom of the lake, so escape would require breaking through concrete, then digging through ten feet of earth before swimming up through the lake. A rusted spiral staircase led down to a small, dank tunnel that connected the palace to the dungeon.
Water dripped down through cracks in the tunnel, and most of the stones were slick with water and mold. The path was lit with dim lanterns, just like the dungeon itself. It was a rather small place, with only four cells shut with heavy iron bars.
Konstantin sat on the floor with his back against the bars and his head slumped forward. After I’d captured him, I’d given him the black T-shirt and jeans from the car to put on so he wouldn’t have to stay here naked, and the bars left rusty lines on his shirt.
Across from his was Bent’s cell. Bent was covered by a sheet, lying on the plank of wood that served as a bed. These were bare cells, with stone walls and metal toilets in each corner.
“Wake up.” Ridley kicked the bars behind Konstantin’s back, and he lifted his head. “We’re here to talk to you.”
“Don’t bother trying to raise Bent,” Konstantin said without looking at us or standing up. “He won’t get up.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, and turned my attention to Bent’s cell. “Bent? Bent! Get up.”
He didn’t stir, so I walked over to his cell, pressing my face against the bars to get a better look. I shouted his name again, and then I saw the dark stain at the top of his sheets. The lanterns didn’t give off much light, but it was enough that I could see that the stain looked red.
“Ridley, get the keys,” I said.
“What? Why?” he asked, coming over to have a look.
“Just get them now,” I commanded, and he did as he was told, jogging down the hall away from me.
There was a long stick with a hook at the end leaning against the wall in the tunnel, and I assumed it was used for handing prisoners things from a distance or perhaps poking an unruly inmate who didn’t want to get out of bed.
I grabbed it, and then carefully I angled the stick so I could hook the edge of Bent’s sheet. I was saying his name, telling him he’d better not being playing any games, but he never replied. As I pulled the blanket back, it became obvious why.
His eyes were open wide, staring vacantly at the ceiling above him, and his throat had been torn open, leaving a jagged gaping wound. By the looks of the bent shackle in his hand, I guessed he’d used the rusted sharp point on the end to do the job, but it couldn’t have been easy. The blood still looked wet and bright dripping from his throat, so he couldn’t have done it long ago, but it didn’t matter. Bent Stum was dead.
THIRTY-SIX
penitence
“Bryn,” Konstantin whispered, and I turned away from Bent’s bloody corpse to see that Konstantin was standing now, his hands gripping the prison bars in desperation as he looked out at me.
“Did you just stand there, watching him while he killed himself?” I asked coldly. “Or maybe you talked him into it?”
Konstantin laughed darkly. “You can’t really believe he killed himself.”
“You’re saying that you somehow got out of your cage and did it yourself?”
“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “Bent was a dumb oaf. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he was. He would talk soon, so somebody silenced him.”
“Who?” I stared down at him dubiously. “Who would’ve come down here to do that?”
“I’ll tell you, white rabbit, but you have to let me out first,” Konstantin said with a sly smile. But beneath the steely gray of his eyes, I saw fear flickering.
“Not a chance,” I replied immediately.
“I can’t stay here locked up, or they’ll come for me next.”
“Good.” I folded my arms over my chest. “You’re a murderer. It’s about time you get your comeuppance.”
“I’ve never killed anyone!” Konstantin sounded exasperated. “I know I hurt you and your father, and I’ve hurt plenty of other people. But I haven’t killed any of them.”
“Tell that to Emma Costar,” I said, and the image of her lying dead on the bank of the river flashed in front of my eyes again.
“That was Bent. He’s clumsy and stupid, never knowing his own strength.” He rested his forehead against the bars. “I shouldn’t have left him alone with her. That is my fault, but I never laid a hand on her.”
“Where is Linnea?” I asked. “If you tell me where she is, I’ll let you go.”
Konstantin groaned and threw his head back. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Someone is trying to kill you, and they have access to your cell. I suggest you start talking if you want to live.”
“I swear, I don’t know where she is,” he insisted fiercely.
“You’re lying. I know you’re lying. You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her.”
“We came here for her, that’s true,” Konstantin admitted. Then he pursed his lips, pausing before going on. “But things are very complicated.”
“Why the Skojare?” I asked. “You’ve been targeting the Kanin for so long, then why suddenly hit the Skojare?”
“It wasn’t my idea. None of this was my idea.” His shoulders sagged and he let go of the bars. “But I’m not sure that makes any of this any better.”
“Whose idea was it?” I asked. “I know Bent wasn’t the brains of the operation.”
He looked up at me, tears resting in his eyes and a sad smile on his face. “Have you ever been in love?”
I tensed. “That’s none of your business.”
“No, you haven’t.” His smile widened and he shook his head. “Lucky you.”
“What does this have to do with Linnea?” I asked.
“Everything. And nothing.” He stepped back from the bars with a resigned expression on his face. “I’ve done so many things in the name of love. And lately I’ve begun to wonder, is it still love if it makes one do terrible things?”
“That just sounds like an excuse to be evil,” I told him honestly.
“I would agree with you, but I regret a lot of it.” He sighed and sat back on the wooden bed behind him. “I regret most of it, really, but still, I can’t bring myself to regret falling in love. Even though I died. The real me, the me I’d once been, the me that you admired so much. He died the instant I fell.” He stared intently at me. “But for love, I’d gladly kill myself again.”
“If you don’t tell me what’s going on and where Linnea is, you’re going to die in that cell,” I warned him, trying to reason with him. “Not metaphorically die, but literally die, the way Bent did, and as unpleasant as that had to be to watch, it’s going to be much worse to experience for yourself.”
“Then that’s the price that I’ll have to pay,” he said simply. He laid back on his bed and rolled over so his back was to me. �
�But you can still heed my advice, white rabbit. Get away from all of this before it’s too late for you.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
justice
Ridley sat on my bed, hunched over with his fingers tangled in his dark hair. I pulled my own wave of hair up in a ponytail, as if tugging my hair back would help me think more clearly.
“I don’t know, Bryn,” he said finally and lifted his head so he could watch me walk back and forth, pacing along the window that faced the dark water outside. “Trusting Konstantin might be your downfall.”
“I don’t trust him.” I shook my head adamantly. “I could never trust him.”
“You’re saying that you believe him about some weird conspiracy going on here?”
“It’s not a conspiracy,” I corrected him.
“You’re saying that somebody in this palace killed Bent Stum and made it look like a suicide to cover up something to do with the missing Queen.” He gave me a hard look. “That sounds like a conspiracy to me.”
I stopped walking to argue my position. “Bent was gonna talk. Tove thought so.”
“No, Tove thought he was most likely to talk, but you saw him at that meeting. He was resistant to giving any form of a guarantee on that.”
“Konstantin knows something, though.”
Ridley rolled his eyes. “Of course he does. He knows everything! He’s behind it all.”
“No, I mean…” I chewed my lip. “Just bear with me for a moment. Let’s say Konstantin was telling the truth and that someone did kill Bent. Who had access to his cell?”
“I ran upstairs and got the keys from one of the guards, but you know how lax their security is around here.” Ridley shrugged. “Any one of their guards had access to the keys, but it wouldn’t be that hard for any of the seventy-eight other people who live in the palace to get the keys. They just have them hanging up in the guards’ station at the top of the stairs.”
I groaned. “I just feel like we’re missing something. There has to be a connection that we’re not seeing.”
“All of this is based on something a known traitor said while pleading for his freedom.” Ridley stared sadly at me. “I hate to say it, Bryn, but I think you’re being naïve.”
“No, I’m not. This all just doesn’t add up!” I shouted, then lowered my voice so I wouldn’t disturb anyone.
After we’d called the guards and dealt with Bent’s body, it had been rather late by the time we got back to our rooms. We’d talked briefly with Tove and Bain before they retired to their rooms, and now we were left rehashing the same ideas over and over again in the dim glow from my bedside lamp.
“Bent is out of the picture, we’ve got Konstantin, Linnea is probably dead,” Ridley said. “There’s nothing left to deal with. You may not want to admit it, but it’s over, Bryn.”
“We don’t know that Linnea is dead,” I reminded him.
“If you believe Konstantin, then all signs point to her death,” he reasoned. “Konstantin says that Bent was an uncontrollable idiot that killed Emma, so he probably killed Linnea, and maybe he didn’t tell Konstantin where he dumped her.”
“What if Konstantin came here to kidnap Linnea, but she was already missing?” I asked. “Or dead?”
“Who killed her, then?”
“Mikko.” I kept my voice low, in case someone might be listening. “He had opportunity, since he was alone with her that night, and he stormed out of the meeting, so he had a chance to kill Bent, too.”
Ridley brushed off the theory as soon as I proposed it. “That leaves more questions than answers. If he killed her, why did he call us here? And what would his motive for killing Bent be? Not to mention that he doesn’t even have a motive for killing his wife in the first place.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted softly.
“And why were Konstantin and Bent even here in the first place? If this is a simple domestic dispute gone bad, then why would they even come here?”
“I don’t know!” I shouted, growing frustrated. “Why is Konstantin everywhere we go?”
Ridley’s eyes darkened, and he stared grimly at me. “He’s not everywhere we go, Bryn. He’s everywhere you go. And that is a very good question.”
“You don’t think I have something to do with this.”
“No, of course I don’t.” He sighed. “But … once is a fluke. Twice is a coincidence. But three times? That’s a pattern. There’s some connection I don’t understand, but I think you need to start taking a hard look at what’s happening here.”
“I am, Ridley! I’m looking at this constantly. You think I’m not always worrying about this, and thinking about Konstantin? That for even one second I’m not terrified that I’m missing something or screwing this up somehow?”
I knew I was yelling and I should stop, but I couldn’t control myself. Everything with Linnea and Konstantin and the missing changelings, it was all making me feel crazy and helpless. Everywhere I went, I was one step behind, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to fix anything.
“I’m sorry. I know.” Ridley stood up and put his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, calm down.” Roughly, he pulled me into his arms, and I let him, resting my head against his chest. “I know you’re doing everything you can, and if anyone can figure this mess out, it’s you.”
“But I can’t, Ridley,” I whispered.
He put his hand under my chin, lifting it so I would look up at him. “You can do anything.”
Ridley leaned down, his mouth brushing against mine, and I wanted nothing more than to give in to the moment, to give in to the passion of his embrace and the icy taste of his lips, but I couldn’t. As desperately as I wanted to feel nothing but him, the nagging inside my heart pulled me away.
“I can’t.” I lowered my eyes and stepped back from him. “There’s too much to lose. You should probably go.”
“Right. You’re right,” he muttered and rubbed his neck before turning away from me. “You’re always right.”
When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, half looking back at me. “The right guy is behind bars right now, Bryn. No matter what’s going on with us or anything else, you should find some comfort in that.”
Ridley left me alone then, and I felt many, many things, but comfort wasn’t one of them.
THIRTY-EIGHT
entrapped
The staircase had rusted and weakened so much from lack of use that it felt precarious under my feet. But everything felt precarious at that moment. The iron keys were heavy in my hand, and though my stomach twisted painfully, I didn’t turn back.
I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing. But it was the only thing I could think to do. I had to find out who Konstantin was working for and what had really happened to Linnea. Until I had that information, this would never feel over to me.
Ridley had been right, though, and getting the keys from the guards had been comically easy. The station was completely unmanned, and the keys were sitting on the desk. I grabbed them quickly, then hurried down to the dungeon.
As I walked slowly through the tunnel, I reminded myself that the keys were only a decoy. I would promise Konstantin that I would set him free if he divulged the truth to me. But I would never let him go free again. I couldn’t.
As I approached the dungeon, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up. The door to Konstantin’s cell was wide open, and as my heart thudded in my chest, I feared I’d come too late. Somebody had already taken care of him.
Then he emerged from the shadows. He stepped out slowly, deliberately, with his eyes locked on me. But my eyes went down to the sword in his hand, the long blade battle-worn but sharp.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Konstantin said when he saw me, and he wore the same expression he had when he’d raised his sword on my father.
“I came to set you free.” I raised the keys to show him, and he flinched like he’d been punched.
“Run,” he whispered. “Run, white rabbit, as fast and far as yo
u can.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” I stood tall despite my fear.
“This has gone on long enough,” a voice grumbled behind me, and I whirled around.
He’d been standing in the shadows, along the wall of the tunnel by the mouth of the dungeon. He wore all black, helping him blend in, and his skin had shifted color, completely matching the stones around him. But now as it shifted back, it was like watching a mirage come to life.
Then I realized that not quite everything had changed color. The scar that ran across his face from just above his left eye down to his right cheek, that had stayed a dull red. His black hair was greasy and landed just below his shoulders, and his beard was more unruly than I’d seen in pictures.
But I knew exactly who he was. I saw his face glaring down on me every time I stepped into Ridley’s office. It was Viktor Dålig—the most wanted man of all the Kanin.
“Finish her!” Viktor commanded, and that was enough to snap my senses into motion.
With the keys still in my fist, I swung at Viktor. But he was too fast, and he grabbed my arm, bending it back. He grabbed my ponytail, yanking my head back. I kicked him, but he was unfazed, and then Viktor slammed my head into the stone wall.
The first time, I felt it. A blind searing pain that blotted out everything. Somewhere in the background, I thought I heard Konstantin yell out. But the second time Viktor slammed my skull into the stone, the world fell away, and I collapsed into darkness.
THIRTY-NINE
retreat
I shoved my clothes roughly into my duffel bag, and Ridley knocked on the open door to my bedroom.
“How are you holding up?” he asked when I didn’t reply.
“I’ve been better.”
My right temple had a scabbed-over gash and a dark purple bruise, but the worst of it was under my hair, where I’d needed six stiches. Viktor had meant business, and the medic that had fixed me said I was lucky that he hadn’t actually smashed my skull in.
Twelve hours later, I had a killer headache, and the vision in my right eye still didn’t seem quite right. Whenever I looked to the left, I could see a blinding white spot out of the corner of my eye.
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