She had planned to spend the rest of the day following Archer from a distance, but as they walked from the tea court, Bolton informed her that the king had ordered her to assist with guard duty at a state dinner that night. And though she could think of a thousand excuses to get out of it, any suspicious behavior on her part could draw the wrong sort of attention. If she was actually going to listen to Eleanor this time, she needed the king—she needed his entire empire—to think she was his obedient servant.The state dinner was in the Great Hall, and it took all of Matilda’s self-control to keep from sprinting to the long table in the center of the room and horking down the food right off the plates of the gathered councilmen and preening nobility. Roasted lamb rubbed with thyme and lavender, duck glazed with orange sauce, pheasant swimming in green-onion gravy … Truly, it wasn’t fair.Bolton had stationed her by a pillar near the glass patio doors. Though she wasn’t wearing the roya
Not bothering to say good-bye to Roland or the girls, he strode out of the Great Hall. He had better, more important things to worry about than what Matilda felt for his friend. He was the Crown Prince of the largest empire in the world. His entire existence was bound to the crown and the glass throne that would someday be his. She’d ended things because of that crown and throne— because she wanted a freedom he could never give her.“Leonard,” someone called as he entered the hallway. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Matilda. She caught up to him, easily matching the brisk pace he hadn’t realized he’d set. He didn’t even know where he was going, only that he needed to get out of the Great Hall. She touched his elbow, and he hated himself for savoring the touch.“What do you want?” he asked.They passed beyond the busy halls and she tugged on his arm, slowing him down. “What’s wrong?”“Why would anything be wrong?”How long have you been yearning for him? was what he really
His training with the assassins must have paid off, because Leonard was across the carriage and brandishing a hidden dagger between them before she could blink. “Please,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling in uneven patterns. “Please, Laena.” She opened her mouth, ready to explain everything, but he was gasping down breaths, his eyes wide. “I can pay you.”A small, wretched part of her was fairly smug at the sight of him cowering. But she held up her hands, showing him she was unarmed—at least as far as he could see. “The king thinks you’re part of a rebel movement that’s interrupting his agenda.”A harsh, barked laugh—so raw that none of the smooth, lovely man was even recognizable in the sound. “I’m not part of any movement! Wyrd damn me, I might be a whore, but I’m not a traitor!” She kept her hands where he could see them, and opened her mouth to tell him to shut up, sit down, and listen. But he went on. “I don’t know anything about a movement like that—I haven’t even hea
She knocked once, then opened the door to Bolton ’s bedroom just wide enough to peer in. He was standing frozen before the fireplace, as if he’d been in the middle of pacing.“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said, slipping inside. “It’s past twelve.”He folded his arms across his chest, his captain’s uniform rumpled and unbuttoned at the collar. “Then why bother stopping by? I thought you weren’t coming home tonight, anyway.”She pulled her cloak tighter around her, her fingers digging into the soft fur.She lifted her chin. “Turns out Leonard wasn’t as dashing as I remembered.Funny how a year in New York City can change the way you see people.”His lips tugged upward, but his face remained solemn. “Did you get the information you wanted?”“Yes, and then some,” she said. She explained what Leonard had told her (pretending that he’d accidentally given her the information, of course). She explained the rumors surrounding the lost heir of Terrasen, but left out the bits about Vaness
It was one of the longest nights of Benjamin ’s life.Every second had passed by with horrific clarity—every agonizing second as Matilda lay there on the floor of his office, her bodice covered in so much blood that he couldn’t tell where she was bleeding. And with all the stupid layers of frills and pleats, he couldn’t see the entry wounds.So he’d lost it. Utterly lost it. There was no thought in his head beyond a roaring panic as he shut the door, took out his hunting knife, and ripped open her dress right there.But there were no wounds, only a sheathed stiletto that clattered to the floor and a scratch on her forearm. With the dress ripped away, there was hardly any blood on her. And that’s when the panic cleared enough for him to remember what she’d whispered: gloriella.A poison used to temporarily paralyze victims.Everything from then on became a series of steps: quietly summoning Ress; telling the young, talented guard to keep his mouth shut and to find whatever healers wer
Not feeling at all inclined to go into California after last night, she’d opted to spend the day digesting what she’d learned in Davis’s office and searching for any connection between that book of Dark Knight s and the king’s plans. And since she’d only seen one hint of something being amiss in the castle … Well, she’d steeled her nerve to try to learn what that thing had been looking for in the library. Or if there was any hint of where it had gone.The library looked as it had always had: dim, cavernous, achingly beautiful in its ancient stone architecture and endless corridors lined with books. And totally silent.She knew there were a few scholars and librarians about, but they mostly kept to their private studies. The size of the place was overwhelming; it was a castle in itself.What had that thing been doing here?She craned her head back to take in the two upper levels, both bordered with ornate railings. Iron chandeliers cast light and shadow throughout the main chamber in
She saw it only because it was the sole bit of decoration she’d encountered along the wall. Considering how the last six months of her life had gone, part of her just knew that it had to mean something.There was no depiction of Eleanor , or a stag, or anything lovely and green.No; this tapestry, woven from red thread so dark it looked black, depicted … nothing.She touched the ancient strands, marveling at the hue, so deep that it seemed to swallow her fingers in its darkness. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and Matilda put a hand on her dagger as she pulled the tapestry aside. She swore. And swore again.Another secret door greeted her.Glancing around the stacks, listening for any footsteps or rustle of clothing, Matilda pushed it open.A breeze, musty and thick, floated past her from the depths of the spiral stairwell revealed by the open door. The light of her torch reached only a few feet inside, illuminating ornately carved walls depicting a battle.There was a thin g
Matilda touched the Ruffle Pistol , scanning the door again. It yielded no answers about what might be behind it, so she clamped a hand around the handle and pulled.It was locked. There was no keyhole in sight. She ran a hand along the grooves. Perhaps it had rusted shut?She frowned. No sign of rust, either.Matilda stepped back, studying the door. Why put a handle on it if there was no way of opening it? And why use a lock unless there was something worthwhile hidden behind it?She turned away, but the amulet warmed against her skin, and a flicker of light shone through her tunic. Matilda paused.It could have been the flicker of the torch, but … Matilda studied the slender gap between the door and the stone. A shadow—darker than the blackness beyond—lingered on the other side.Slowly, drawing out her thinnest and flattest dagger with her free hand, she set the torch down and lay on her stomach, as close to the door as she dared. Just shadows—it was just shadows. Or rats.Eithe