“But I’ve always been involved.” She fiddles with the corner of my blanket, suddenly thoughtful. “Elanor, I need to be honest with you.”
“You’ve always been honest with me.”
“No—that’s just it. I haven’t been. And I’m afraid it’s put you in this situation.” She stares at the balcony window and lets out a long, sad sigh. “I know you’ve been hunting dragons. I know that’s what you and Count Malandre, the king and Lord Berrel have all been up to.”
My jaw drops. “How did you—?”
“I’ve known about Malandre and King Siles for a long time now.” She stares at the floor. “When Malandre asked my father to look out for you, I knew you were someone special. It’s why I wanted you to move in with me after Cydra dismissed you.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. My eyebrows knit together. “Malandre asked Ryrick to look out for me? When was this?”
“Before you arrived at the castle. We were expecting you. But Elanor—”
“Malandre knew I would be coming?” Adom had said something about hoping I would escape Onyx and find my way back to Trana. But how could he know for certain that I would come to the castle unless...My heart sinks. Unless he had planned it from the beginning.
“Go to a safe place,” he had instructed me after he brought me back to Onyx. “I need to speak with Ona.” Could he have instructed Ona to bring me back to Trana when I was ready to return? And what about Lord Faigen, who was coincidentally returning from Salcom village at the same time Ona delivered me to Trana? Could that have been a fabrication, too? Had Lord Faigen been instructed to bring me to the castle? But no—that had been my idea. Hadn’t it?
Patience puts a hand on my arm. “Elanor. There’s more.”
“Malandre lied to me,” I sound betrayed, even though I don’t know why. It isn’t as though he hadn’t lied before. “He’s trying to keep me here, to keep me close.”
“I know,” she says. “I tried to warn you. But there’s something else.”
“Why am I even involved in any of this? I should have run to Corva. Or Eppax. Why am I still with him, listening to his lies? Letting him control me.” I stare at her with horror. “I’ve let him hand-select my friends. Berrel is the only real friend I have here.”
Patience stands up. Her face looks tight with anger, and the dim shadows somehow make her look inhuman. “You aren’t ready to listen.” She grabs her satchel and throws open the front. Pulling out a vial, she thumps it down on the nightstand beside me so hard I think it must have broken. “I made this for you. It’s dragonsbane—my own concoction. Tip your arrows in it and you can do some real damage.” She points to her face. “Aim for the eye.” She pulls the satchel over one shoulder, snatches the candlestick, and heads for the door.
As it closes behind her, I stare at the vial in disbelief. If Patience knew about Malandre, why would she leave me with this? Especially after what she just told me? Does she want me to hurt Malandre? But why? I reach for the vial and hold it contemplatively.
Somewhere in the room, a latch comes unhinged. I close my eyes, focusing on breathing normally. Reaching underneath my pillow, I clutch the knife Siles left. Its hilt has many carvings, and from the feel of it a dragon scale decorates its base. My other hand grasps tightly to the vial.
I crack open my eyes. Moonlight illuminates a mirror in the corner, hanging askew. Shadowy darkness replaces the spot on the wall where the mirror once rested. A secret door. Light catches the white from wide, lurking eyes.
My hand closes around the hilt of the knife. The figure appraises the room and spots my form on the bed. It stares, immobile for several seconds. Then it returns to the secret corridor. In moments, the corridor vanishes and the mirror settles into its usual place.
I count twenty heartbeats and then pull myself out of bed. My head swims. So do the contents of my stomach. On impulse, I tuck the vial of Patience’s mystery concoction into my shirt. Then, I tiptoe to the mirror.
It looks perfectly ordinary. Did I imagine it all? I fumble with the edges. Using my dagger, I try to pry the mirror from its spot. It won’t budge. I reach my hand along the sides of it, running down and underneath, until my fingers find a small ridge along the bottom.
Something clicks. The mirror swings open, and I grab it before it smashes into the wall. The darkness before me draws me in like a black cave. I smile. Caves are my specialty.
I hold the knife out and enter the secret hall. It’s cool and damp within, much like Onyx’s caves. The smell of mold clings to the air and the floor strips the callouses from the soles of my feet as effectively as pumice. My eyes adjust. I stop and listen to the padded footsteps running down the hall. I venture after the sound. It isn’t long before I lose the footfalls. Does the person suspect me? Is someone waiting for me in the shadowy distance?
The hallway turns. My hand trembles. Can I kill if I have to? I doubt it. For all my jokes about murdering dragons, I never lifted a finger against them. It doesn’t seem likely, then, that I can lift my finger against my own kind. I lean against the wall, stopping to listen once more. My fingers feel along the wall until they find a hinge. I stifle a gasp. Another secret door.
“No, my lady,” says a voice on the other side of the wall. I recognize it as Donja. “She’s in his bed. I don’t know where the others have gone. If you’d like, I can ask the doorman.”
“Yes, please do,” answers the syrupy voice of the future queen. “And thank you for your discretion. When I heard from the guards that there was an attempt on the king’s life…”
“It’s fortunate it was only the servant girl who struck ill.”
“Yes,” Celeste replies. “It is. Now go.”
Silence. I squint at the wall, which I now recognize as the backside of a mirror. Through a small crack in the curtain, I manage to see Donja’s back as she exits the room. The lavish surroundings hint that I’ve stumbled upon Lady Celeste’s chambers.
Once Donja is out of the room, the lady calls her guard in. “Grym, we have another problem,” she says. “It’s that servant girl, Elanor. She’s sleeping in the king’s quarters.”
“You want me to take care of her?” asks the guttural voice I identify as the voice in the watchtower. “Or do you need me to do worse—”
“What is wrong with you?” Celeste snaps. “I just need you to bring her to me. The old man won’t talk unless I bring her to him, and she’s made things complicated with my brother. It’s time to use her to Malandre’s disadvantage.”
“So you want me to kidnap her?” the bulky guard inquires.
I stare at him more intently and feel certain I’ve seen him before. He was the one at the king’s chambers the night Berrel and I met the king together. He was one of the guards who not-so-secretly scorned Lord Faigen the day I came to the castle. And one of the men who nodded me into the castle when I returned from my trip to Miss Harminy’s. So, who is this man—Grym—and why is he working with Celeste?
“Not kidnap. She’s been poisoned, so we are just borrowing her for a short while.”
“And then you want to give her back? After what she knows?”
“From everything our captive told me, I’m certain she’ll want to be with us when everything falls apart. But, we need her now to get the information, and after that we can decide what to do with her.” Celeste dances toward the mirror. “Take the back way.”
Grym bows and struts purposefully toward the secret door. I retreat from the space. At once, a wave of nausea grabs hold of me. I hold onto the wall until the swirling passes. My hand finds the secret door, and I lean against it, panting.
As the spots fade from my vision, I hear a gut-wrenching sound. The click of a trapdoor releasing. The support snaps, and my weight falls forward. The world spins off-angle as I tumble onto the floor. Consciousness swirls. The blackness swells and recedes.
An
icy lump slides down my throat and settles in my stomach. I open my eyes, fully aware that horrors await. Grym and Celeste crouch over me. I cast a queasy eye toward the door.
Celeste drops to one knee beside me. “Why are you spying on us, Elanor?”
I blow spit her direction. “Why are you spying on me?”
She leans away and wipes the spit off her cheek with the back of a gloved hand. “Not spying. I heard from Grym here that the king had been poisoned. No one is allowed near his chambers now, so I asked Donja to take the closed-off passageways to find out if Siles was in any danger. You just happened to be in his bed.” Her eyes narrow. “Why were you in his bed?”
“You know exactly why I was there,” I say, careful not to give away anything about the king’s condition. “I heard Donja telling you I was poisoned.” I point to the heavy-set man. “You were sending him to go kidnap me. What for?”
Celeste lifts her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Stand up and take a seat on the chaise over there. I worry you’ll pass out here on the floor. You look like you died and just haven’t had the sense to realize it.”
I scrunch my face and reject her offer of help when she reaches out to assist me. “I heard you plotting with the guard about a prisoner. And I know you’re planning to kill someone. You’re no friend of the king, so you’re no friend to me.”
“You’re correct. I’m no friend of the king,” she says very solemnly. “I know he’s a dragon changeling, same as Malandre. Same as Grym.” She nods in the direction of the guard, who has been silent since my appearance in the room.
I push myself to a stand, wobble toward the chaise, and slide into a seat. “If you’re no friend of the king, why are you marrying him?”
“It’s a necessary sacrifice to secure his assets,” Celeste replies. She must have interpreted the look on my face as one of revulsion, because she jumps quickly into an explanation. “He’s stolen from the Tranar people. Don’t you see? He’s a dragon, Elanor. A dragon is ruling our country. Eating bread produced by the sweat of farm laborers, living in a castle built on the backs of human workers. Don’t you realize how diabolical that is?”
I channel my inner Rhydian and put on my best doubting face. “A dragon? Ha.” I clutch my elbows and shrug my shoulders. “Rhydian said everybody in his family was slightly off. I guess the king isn’t marrying you for your keen wit.”
She casts a resentful eye on me. “There’s an army gathered in the northern mountains. We have evidence that Siles is diverting food and weapons away from the Tranar economy. Do you know about the food shortage in the south, or the refugee crisis closer to home? All due to dragon scorchings.”
I study Celeste carefully. To my knowledge, Rhydian hasn’t told her about his change. It isn’t my secret to tell. I feign wide-eyed innocence. “But didn’t you hear? Dragons aren’t real. You should check in with your brother more, he’s very informative on the subject.”
“You don’t have to pretend. I know all about you, El from Onyx.”
I glare at her.
A small dimple forms on her right cheek. “We could be allies in this battle. Even though you are leading my brother around by his nose, the horrible idiot.”
“Leading Rhydian around? What makes you think that?” I’m dying to ask what she means by battle, but I doubt she’ll tell me anything she thinks I don’t already know.
“Maids talk. They like extra coins, so whenever they see something out of the ordinary they bring it to my attention. Hoping for a treat.” She glances at Grym. “Not him, though. He’s in this for other reasons.” She signals to the door. “Go and wait for Donja.”
Grym moves toward the door, eyeing me up and down with suspicion. “Shout if you need my assistance,” he says to Celeste before he exits the room.
She stands at the window and looks out on the forest. “The secret is out. There’s a growing number of Tranars who know about the changelings. They had a sibling who changed once, like me. They’re a parent to one, like my father. Or maybe they lost their home and family to a scorching. They saw a snarling dragon between the licking flames of a fire. Or the flash of wings.” Her eyes sharpen knowingly. “I’m sure you understand why these haunted people come to us thirsty for justice. In any case...” She shrugs, leaving the thought unfinished.
Her words sound eerily familiar. The feel of ash against the soles of my feet as I stumbled through the burning house. The charred remains. The brother who died in my arms. Adom changing and the scattering of white ash as he flapped his wings.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Celeste asks after a minute.
“Yes, actually,” I say, my mind scrambling. “I think the physician was planning to check in on me about now. I should go before my absence arouses any suspicion.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” she says. “Grym is guarding the door.”
“And if I scream?” I ask, my voice a little breathless.
She bats long, silver lashes at me. “Then Grym will come in here and knock your head into the wall until you are silent. He doesn’t like shrill noises.”
A sinking despair settles on me. Trapped. Again! And how am I going to get out of this predicament? Malandre and Siles are both gone, and Patience probably thinks I’m sleeping, and Rhydian doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. My mind circles around Grym.
“You said your silent friend was a dragon, too?” When she nods, I cross my arms. “He doesn’t look much like a dragon to me. Are you sure you aren’t going the way of your sist—”
“Shut up,” Celeste snaps. “My sister wasn’t crazy. She was poisoned before she could fully change. Grym explained it all to me. That the changelings are like humans until they turn for the first time. All the normal things that kill humans can kill a dormant changeling.”
My breath catches before I’m able to hide my reaction. I didn’t know this.
Fueled by my unplanned reaction, Celeste smiles crookedly. “The Paradigm is drawing up a manifesto. Once complete, we plan to distribute it all across Trana. Even you must see how that’s a good thing. The people need to know about the changelings. They need to know that the myths about dragons aren’t just myths. That real danger is living among us.”
“If changelings are real and Grym is one of them, why would he help you expose his own kind?” I ask, truly mystified.
“Because he’s one of the good ones,” she says with devotion. “He believes changelings should be revealed to the public and willingly step down from positions of power. We believe dragons should have no part in Tranar government. They’re too powerful. Too manipulative. You’ve seen the way Count Malandre muscles his own agenda into every decision. As citizens of Trana, they can have it all. Wealth, in the form of dragon scales. Power through fear and intimidation. Special abilities they can use to control.”
Only a short while ago I would have joined their cause without hesitation and even with some ferocity. Now? “You can’t be serious,” I say softly. “No one is going to believe you.”
“There are more of us than you think. And we’re everywhere.” Celeste smiles with a bitter half-turn of her lips. “Grym learned about the king and Count Malandre, through friends he’s made at the changeling compound they have set up in the mountains.”
“Did you kill Cydra’s son?”
The smile fades. “I said we have no interest in killing. I didn’t say it was out of the realm of possibility. We have a duty to the crown. Not the one the king has sullied. The human crown.”
“Says you and your friend.”
She gives me a curious look. “It was you in the watchtower that day, wasn’t it?”
“Who’s Hunter?”
“She keeps interfering. Grym’s been tracking a dragon who blends in with the trees, and the Hunter keeps jumping in, deliberately throwing us off the scent. We believe it’s the chameleon who murdered all
those lords in the forest. A serial killer. Since we don’t have any justice system in place for violent changelings, Grym and I have to work by our own judgment.”
“So your plan is to kill the Hunter so you can more easily kill the Tree Hopper?”
“Tree Hopper?” The smile returns. “Is that the technical term for the chameleon? Where did you learn it, Elanor? Was it on the dragon island where Malandre held you captive?”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Obviously, Celeste doesn’t suspect her brother is the Tree Hopper, or I doubt she’d be trying to kill him. “And while we’re on the subject of breaking laws, who are you holding captive?”
“I’ll tell you all about our captive in a moment. As for your question? It’s called justice.” She puts a hand on the foggy window. “Once we catch Hunter and this...Tree Hopper...Paradigm will judge their deeds and punish them accordingly.”
“And that’s what you’re planning to do with the count and the king as well?”
“Precisely.”
I don’t completely trust Adom and the king, but Celeste strikes a sour chord with me. I can’t tell if it is the placid smile on her face or the madness in her eyes, but my instincts tell me she’s not being completely truthful. But before I have a chance to pry more answers out of her, the door creaks open again.
Grym steps inside and closes the door. “Donja returned. The doormen report that the king left for the country several hours ago and the count left just prior to that. The guards don’t have any information on the count’s whereabouts. Do you want me to track him?”
“Leave it.” Celeste turns to me. “You want to know who we captured? Right this way.”
~ * ~
At first, I fear Celeste and Grym may manage to forcefully escort me right out of the castle doors without raising a single eyebrow. Either the servants don’t know about my near-death encounter, or they are too blinded by Celeste’s radiance to even notice I’m with her. Where are Cydra or Longley to bark at me as I abandon my duties to abscond with a noble? Where’s Patience?
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