by Page Morgan
He shouted and then charged me. I blocked the mace with my pike, but the heavy weapon still brought me to one knee. I heaved back, and with so much of his weight on the handle of my pike, it threw him off balance. The guard stumbled forward. I shifted my weapon, and caught him in the jugular. Warm blood splattered my face as he fell.
The cells erupted in excitement, the prisoners screaming with the deranged hope of freedom.
“Ever?” I called out once, just in case. There was no answer except the men’s cries—and the squeal of iron hinges.
Spinning around, I dropped the pike and took up the third guard’s mace. There should have been a fourth guard on duty. I prepared for him as I went around the corner, but the corridor was clear. The door leading up from the dungeon was wide open.
“Damn.” I hurried on the fourth warrior’s heels. Up through the stairwell, my stolen boots tapped at the stones, the distant footfalls of the fourth guard falling silent. Was he waiting for me around the next turn? I slowed, knowing I only had another minute—at the most—to get to Ben in the kitchens before someone figured out Ulrich hadn’t hired him.
The well of stairs opened up into the next corridor. It, too, was bare. The fourth guard was gone. Gone to deliver news of a breach. I bolted through the lower intestines of the fortress, toward the sounds of steam and pots and the raised voices of two men in the kitchens. From the belt loops, I drew a knife for each voice I didn’t recognize, and a third I clenched between my teeth for back up.
“I’m telling you, Ulrich didn’t say a thing about hiring this knob in the markets today. He tells me whenever someone new’s coming on, and I—”
The man who was speaking saw me first as I came into the kitchen, two counters of copper bowls, silver, and glassware between us. I threw with my right hand, shifted the next blade into my palm and targeted the warrior beside Ben. Both men were down with blades through their eyes before Ben could stop turning from collapsed body to collapsed body.
“How the devil did you do—” Ben startled as I chucked the third blade. It sank to the hilt into the chest of another guard who’d come up behind him.
“We don’t have much time.” I jumped the counters to the fallen men and retrieved the blades. Ben watched me, unblinking. “One man got away from me; he’s alerting the rest of the fortress to the breach right now.”
“We were supposed to wait until the emperor sent a page to the kitchen,” Ben said, as if I didn’t know the plan was unraveling.
“Well, we can’t wait now,” I said. “I saw light in Mara’s chambers. I think that’s where he must be keeping Ever.”
Ben ran a quivering hand through his mess of hair. “What floor?”
“Third.”
“And the emperor?”
I shook my head. “When he hears of the breach, he’ll be impossible to get to. We don’t have the element of surprise anymore.”
Ben cursed under his breath as he slipped in a stream of vibrant blood seeping across the tiles.
“Frederic will believe the breach is meant for him. He might take guards off Ever,” I said, averting my eyes from the fallen kitchen workers. Innocent men, most likely. My chest tightened. Focus.
Above our heads, a bell chimed. We looked to the wall of bells, all attached to strings to signal which room required service. One bell alone jerked back and forth. Chamber Eight. Mara’s chamber.
“Ben,” I said. “Get the tea service together. Fast.”
33
Ever
A thin layer of dust coated the bell pull. I wiped my hands on my nightdress and then yanked the service bell connect again. It had only been five minutes, maybe less, since the guard left with my reply for the emperor, but a battalion of nerves had settled in.
I paced the rug in front the flickering hearth, the fur growing cold. I grabbed the hearth poker and prodded the flames. The ashes and eaten logs shifted and settled, extinguishing the fire even more. I thought of the way Tobin had laughed at my pathetic attempt to spark a flame with flint and firesteel. For the first time all evening, my lips broke into a smile. It wilted almost instantly. I needed to stop thinking about him.
Remembering Tobin would do me no good—unless what I remembered was his instruction on how to kill a man. Draw the blade across, deep and hard. Don’t hesitate. Finish. But how could I get that close to Frederic without a guard looking on? And when the moment came…would I be able to do it?
The corridor outside the princess’s chamber resounded with footsteps and voices. Frozen by the hearth, I waited for the door to crash open and for Frederic and his warriors to storm in. To bind me in ropes and force me to the dais beneath the golden mirror. But the gale just outside the door held, the knob slowly turned, and the emperor let himself in with all the ease of a spring zephyr.
He entered alone, shutting his warriors out behind him. His clothing was different; in the low light I thought it might be an evening robe. The collar was thick and rolled up around his neck, each panel crossed tightly and closed with a braided tie. It wouldn’t be easy to get to his throat. I breathed nervously, my head filling with more doubt.
“Mirror, I wonder why you would choose to refuse me this night,” he said, still on the peripheries of the rug.
I gathered all the spunk I’d needed while pretending to be a boy back in Rooks Hollow. “I’ll refuse you every night.”
He stepped forward. My pulse spiked, and I resisted the urge to step back. He’s coming toward you. Let him.
“Your mother was headstrong as well. I wasn’t able to enjoy her for as long as I’d wanted,” he said, his meaning so blunt I had to swallow a gag. “But with the blood of your cowardly father running in your veins, I’d hoped you would prove more…pliable.”
“You’re disgusting.”
His eyes were black pricks in the poor light, and I wished I’d lit the lamps. He ignored my insult.
“I only thought it peculiar that the very moment one guard returned with a refusal from you, another arrived to announce there had been a breach in the fortress.”
A bright spark jolted through me. Someone had broken into the fortress?
Frederic stopped within an arm’s length of me. I didn’t move, but when I exhaled, it came out a shaky shudder. He heard it, and clearly pleased with his power, allowed his eyes to drift along the front of my nightdress. Free of the sash binding, my chest was at its normal state and size. Not quite Trina Petrev, but definitely not a boy’s frame.
I wanted to vomit as I considered my next move: lure him closer.
“If I were to…be more pliable,” I began, feeling ill, “would you not send me into the mirror?”
Frederic’s wolfish grin churned my stomach. “Good. You’re thinking logically now.”
Strategically. But I’d let him believe what he wanted.
“So long as you obey me, I don’t see why your confinement would need to commence anytime in the near future.” He pulled at the ties of his robe, and the panels fell aside. My eyes went to his throat even as I cringed.
All he needed to do was take one step closer and I could reach for the knife and…and…and I wouldn’t be fast enough. He’d stop my hand before I could even angle the blade correctly. Perhaps he needed to be even closer. Must I let him touch me? And even then, would I be able to do what Tobin could?
I stood, solid as stone, as Frederic approached. A heavy knock fell on the door.
“What is it?” the emperor snarled.
“Tea,” I whispered. He glared at me. “I was waiting for tea.”
The guard outside announced a kitchen servant.
“Check him,” the emperor ordered. After a muffled shout of surprise from the servant, the guard opened the door.
“He’s clear,” the guard said, allowing a husky man wearing a black apron and the white, brimless hat designating the kitchen staff, to enter. The servant took two steps inside before he looked up. He came to a halt, shaking the contents of the tea tray. His brown eyes rested on me, his l
ips thinning at the sight of the emperor in his robe.
My heart stuttered. He was no servant.
“Leave the tea,” I managed to say, tears threatening my steady voice.
My father hesitated by the door. He had come. He was here. I wanted to run to him, but I held still, determined not to give him away. One flicker of emotion and my father would be killed, just as Bram had been. Frederic had been inside Volk’s, led there by Bram. He must have seen my father. Or had my father hidden? Had he disguised himself?
Frederic kept his gaze fixed on me, his sickening desires clear. A frustrated heat rushed into my cheeks now that both he and my father were staring at me. “Leave the tea and go,” the emperor commanded.
My father’s eyes, hot with suppressed fury, searched for a table. How had he even known I would be here? He’d come to rescue me. Rescue me the way he never had my mother. I had to tell him. I had to let him know she was still alive…in a way.
“Over there, you imbecile.” The emperor thrust a hand toward Princess Mara’s writing desk. He didn’t seem to recognize my father. “Set down the tray and leave us.”
Tension had turned Frederic’s expression to stone. Because of the breach he’d mentioned? Someone had invaded the fortress. My father?
Father followed the orders without erupting with the boiling anger that must have been driving him insane. I silently urged him to follow through, to set the tray down and leave, and then get far away. Fear replaced the disbelief that had consumed me. He was a barkeep! What was he thinking coming in here, believing he could manage a rescue?
Father had just clunked down the tray with a small flicker of his temper when another outburst from the corridor sounded. Frederic growled and turned for the door, and my father started for me; I quickly shook my head.
“What is it?” Frederic asked the warriors outside.
“It’s Karev,” a warrior replied, and my pulse sputtered again. “The one in the dungeons who rang the alarm for the intruder.”
I cut my eyes back to father, panicked. Karev would recognize him easily—he’d nearly killed him back in Rooks Hollow.
“What about him?” Frederic asked with evident impatience.
“He’s certain he knows who it is, your majesty.”
I crossed the rug quickly toward my father, alarm shining in his eyes. I had a blade. I could try and protect him, at the very least.
“The huntsman,” the warrior went on, and my legs and heart ground to a standstill. “Your huntsman, your majesty. Karev is sure of it.”
Tobin? I gleaned a look of warning from my father’s widened eyes before Frederic spun back around. I held my hand out to my father, trying to ignore the pure hatred on the emperor’s face.
“My tea, please,” I said. Father turned and set immediately to work with the silver teapot. My heart strummed a quick beat, quivering in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Tobin was here. Here in the fortress. Here for me. He and my father had come together.
“Mirror,” Frederic growled. “You will stay in this chamber. Expect my return soon. I don’t anticipate this taking very long.”
He tied his robe with a resolute yank and eyed my father, whose back was still turned as he poured tea into a cup. And then Frederic was gone, into the corridor. He hadn’t asked me to show him where the huntsman was, even with the princess’s large mirror standing just behind me. Frederic must have been confident he could find Tobin on his own. That worried me.
The guard watched father drip milk into the tea cup, stir, drip in some more and stir again. Annoyed, the guard told him to knock when he was finished, and then closed the door behind him.
I released a pent up sob and rushed to my father. He dropped the milk and folded me against his chest, his scent of hops and rye and sweat tinged with something else. Something bitter.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“What do you think? Rescuing you,” he replied. I wanted to keep clinging to him, but there wasn’t time. We had a minute at the most before the guard became suspicious.
“How do you plan to get us out of this fortress?”
Father pulled away from me, and ran for the balcony doors. He swung them wide and the curtains billowed in the cold night breeze.
“But it’s three stories down!”
He took me by the arm. “We’re not jumping.”
In the poor light, my father rushed along one wall, dragging his hands along the stone until he came to a small porcelain knob. He twisted and pulled, and a hatch built into the stone tipped outward, toward his stomach. A chute.
“The huntsman said it would be here,” father whispered.
“Tobin,” I corrected.
“His name doesn’t matter. Just get in. It’s for laundry. Goes straight to the washroom.” He hoisted me up off my feet and maneuvered my feet toward the opening.
“No!” I thrashed. “You can’t possibly fit down there, and I’m not leaving you!”
Father kissed my temple. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed me. If he ever had.
He shoved my legs into the chute. “Trust Tobin’s plan. From the laundry, follow the hall to the left—”
“No!”
“Take the third turn-off. It leads to the courtyard.” He pushed me down farther. “From there, Tobin says to improvise. He knows you can do it.”
“No, let me back up!”
Father held my wrists tight, letting the chute’s opening tip back up. “I love you, Ever,” he said, and I went utterly still with shock. “It’s why I did everything I did. I’m sorry.”
He released my wrists and slammed the chute door. I shot down the slippery surface of rock, hearing my father shouting to the guard to hurry, that I’d jumped from the balcony, that he’d tried to stop me… My body picked up speed, drowning out the rest, and then his voice was gone.
34
Tobin
As predicted, the fortress was ripe with the news of an intruder. Every corridor echoed with stomping feet and heightened voices. I dipped into the shadows, behind busts of former emperors, and into rooms I prayed were empty. In my stolen uniform I was able to twice walk straight past another guard, each of us grunting no success in finding the intruder. It was only a matter of minutes before the three dead men in the kitchen were discovered. Ben would be instantly implicated. Hopefully, he’d make it out of the fortress before then. Ever would need someone to take care of her.
I wished it could be me.
There was no use wishing.
I continued down a third floor corridor in the eastern arm of the fortress. It was quieter here, the concentration of warriors and guards swarming around the entrances and exits, the dungeons, and of course, Frederic’s living chambers. If I came across any guards in this section of the fortress, I would be able to take care of them without interruption.
My memory blinked back to the dungeons, to the kitchens, where my blades had ended the lives of other men tonight. Their families, wives and children, were at home, waiting for a return that would never come to pass. I remembered the look of horror in Ben’s eyes when I’d struck down all three men in the kitchen. But it could not have been helped. Perhaps I could not be helped. I was what I was. And because of that, and because of what the emperor had used me for, I knew another route into the emperor’s chambers.
He’d allowed me to use the labyrinth of narrow tunnels when he had not wanted people inside the fortress to see me coming and going. I usually exited in a room near Frederic’s chambers, but there was another exit, one that emptied directly into his chambers. It was the final exit in the network of hidden tunnels that went down three stories, to the cavern beneath the fortress and his little escape craft.
That need to survive would be Frederic’s downfall. He needed his escape routes. He depended on them to continue living and ruling. He wasn’t ready to die.
I was.
I slipped inside a guest chamber that never accommodated guests, but instead led to the tunnel system. A
cross the room, set behind a large portrait, was the door. I swung the portrait aside and pressed my ear to the thin panel of wood. Silence. I nudged the door and stepped in. The musty air wrapped me in a suffocating, inescapable cloak. I closed my eyes and let my inner compass lead me toward the emperor’s end of the labyrinth.
No normal invader would know of this system. Hardly any of the warriors were aware of it. There would be one guard on duty outside the door to Frederic’s chambers. Easily dealt with.
I slowed. Using Ever, Frederic could see anything at all, including who had made the breach and where that person was. Ever could have been showing me to him right at that moment. But would she? Or would she risk punishment? There were too many possibilities. I needed to keep my legs moving.
I was closing in on the emperor’s chambers when there was a change in the black tunnel. I was blind, but my other senses made up for it, including my sense of touch. The air felt different. Heavier. More than one guard.
“You’re very predictable, Huntsman.”
Frederic, less than five feet in front of me. I hurled one knife toward his voice, heard the blade hit flesh, and then a grunt of pain. Arms seized me from behind. I grabbed the person’s shoulder and flipped him over me, onto the narrow strip of floor in the tunnel. I lodged the second knife somewhere in his chest, blindness and surprise spoiling my accuracy. Two more arms pulled me backward.
I struggled, but the warrior’s bulk kept my arms pinned behind my back, my chest bowed out. I kicked sideways at the giant’s leg to break it, but he brought his knee up and rammed it into my spine, bowing out my chest even farther.
The door to Frederic’s chambers opened, flooding the tunnel with light. The emperor held his left shoulder, my aim having fallen just three inches short of its target.
“You’re predictable, Huntsman,” he repeated. “And I think that is what I like best about you.”
