Matilda ignored him. She hadn’t told Jeremy about Eleanor ’s latest demand to uncover the king’s source of power, because she knew what Jeremy ’s response would be: listen to the dead queen. But the Dark Knight s seemed so connected to everything, somehow—even to that eye riddle and this stupid trick wall. And perhaps if she learned how to use them, then she could unlock the iron door in the library and find some answers beyond it. “Maybe … maybe just the basics?”Jeremy smiled. “The basics are the hardest part.”Usefulness aside, it was a forgotten secret language, a system for accessing a strange power. Who wouldn’t want to learn about it? “Morning lessons instead of our walk, then?”Jeremy beamed, and Matilda felt a twinge of guilt for not telling her about the catacombs as the princess said, “Of course.”When they left, Jeremy spent a few minutes studying Mort—mostly asking him questions about his creation spell, which he claimed to have forgotten, then claimed was too priva
The ballroom had been decorated in hues of white and glacier blue, with swaths of silk floating from the ceiling and ornate glass baubles hanging between. It was something out of a winter dream, and it was in honor of Hollin, of all people. A few hours of entertainment and a small fortune spent for a boy who was currently sulking on his little glass throne, shoveling sweets down his throat as his mother smiled at him.He’d never tell Leonard , but Benjamin dreaded the day when Hollin would grow into a man. A spoiled child was easy enough to deal with, but a spoiled, cruel leader would be another matter entirely. He hoped that between him and Leonard , they could check whatever corruption was already rotting away in Hollin’s heart —once Leonard ascended to the throne.The heir was on the dance floor, fulfilling his obligation to court and crown by dancing with whatever ladies demanded his attention. Which, not surprisingly, was almost all of them. Leonard played his role well and sm
Matilda sat in the parlor of Archer’s townhouse, frowning at the crackling fireplace. She hadn’t touched the tea the butler had laid out for her on the low-lying marble table, though she’d certainly indulged in two creampuffs and one chocolate torte while waiting for Archer to return. She could have come back later, but it was freezing outside, and after standing on guard duty last night, she was exhausted. And in need of anything to distract her from reliving that dance with Benjamin .After the waltz had finished, he’d merely told her that if she abandoned her post again, he’d break a hole through the ice in the trout pond and toss her in. And then, as though he hadn’t just danced with her in a way that made her knees tremble, he stalked back inside and left her to suffer in the cold. He hadn’t even mentioned the dance this morning during their run. Maybe she’d just imagined the whole thing. Maybe the frigid night air had made her stupid.She’d been distracted during her first Dark
Impressed murmurs, and a nod from his father to Roland made Leonard ’s jaw clench. Three matching rings; three black rings to signify—what? That they were bound in some way to each other? How had Roland gotten past his father’s and Perrington’s defenses so quickly? Because of his support of a place like Calaculla?Jeremy ’s words from the night before kept ringing in his head. He’d seen the scars on Matilda ’s back up close—a brutal mess of flesh that made him sick with rage to look at. How many like her were rotting away in these labor camps?“And where will the slaves sleep?” Leonard suddenly asked. “Will you build shelter for them, too?”Everyone, including his father, turned to look at him. But Roland just shrugged. “They’re slaves. Why shelter them, when they can sleep in the mines? Then we wouldn’t waste time bringing them in and out every day.”More murmurs and nods. Leonard stared at Roland. “If we have a surplus of slaves, then why not let some of them go? Surely they’re no
When he returned, and after they’d both eaten half of the cake he’d swiped from the kitchens, Matilda lay back on the couch, a hand on her full belly. Benjamin was already sprawled across the cushions, sleeping soundly. Staying up until the middle of the night at the ball, then awakening for their sunrise run this morning had been exhausting. Why hadn’t he just canceled the run?You know, the courts weren’t always like this, Jeremy had said. There was a time when people valued honor and loyalty—when serving a ruler wasn’t about obedience and fear…. Do you think another court like that could ever rise again?Matilda hadn’t given Jeremy an answer. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it. But looking at Benjamin now, at the man he was, and the man he was still becoming …Yes, she thought. Yes, Jeremy . It could rise again, if we could find more men like him.But not in a world with this king, she realized. He’d crush a court like that before Jeremy could muster one. If the king were go
Mort chuckled when she staggered through the tomb door. “Witch Slayer, are you? Another lovely title to add to your repertoire.”“How do you know about that?” she asked, setting down her candle. She’d already burned her bloodied clothes. They had reeked as they burned—reeked like rotting flesh, just as Yellowlegs had. Fleetfoot had growled at the fireplace and tried to herd Matilda away by pressing her body against her legs.“Oh, I can smell her on you,” Mort said. “Smell her fury and wickedness.” Matilda peeled back the collar of her tunic to show the little cuts whereYellowlegs’s nails had pierced the skin right above her collarbone. She’d cleaned them out, but had a feeling they would leave marks, a necklace of scars. “What do you make of those?”Mort winced. “Those make me grateful I’m made of bronze.” “Will they harm me?”“You killed a witch—and you’re now marked by a witch. It will not be the usual sort of wound.” Mort’s eyes narrowed. “You understand that you may have just l
When the council meeting was over, Bolton did his best not to look at his father, who had been watching him so carefully while he’d announced his plans to the king, or at Leonard , whose sense of betrayal rippled off of him as the meeting went on. He tried to hurry back to the barracks, but he wasn’t all that surprised when a hand clapped on his shoulder and turned him around.“Wyne ?” Leonard snarled.Bolton kept his face blank. “If she’s capable of opening a portal like she did last night, then I think she needs to get out of the castle for a while. For all of our sakes.” Leonard couldn’t know the truth.“She’ll never forgive you for having her shipped off like that, to take down a whole country. And in such a public way—making a spectacle out of it. Are you mad?”“I don’t need her forgiveness. And I don’t want to worry about her letting in a horde of otherwordly creatures just because she’s missing her friend.”He hated each lie that came out of his mouth, but Leonard drank th
They were friends now, and he knew that the physical boundaries between them had been altered, but … He turned away rather than let her see the disappointment he knew was all too clear on his face.He took all of two steps toward the door before she spoke, the words soft and strained. “Thank you for all that you have done for me, Leonard . Thank you for being my friend. For not being like the others.”He paused, turning to face her. She kept her chin high, but her eyes were gleaming.“I’ll come back,” she said quietly. “I’ll come back for you.” And he knew that there was more that she wasn’t saying, some bigger meaning behind those words.But Leonard still believed her.The docks were crowded with sailors and slaves and workers loading and unloading cargo. The day was warm and breezy, the first hint of spring in the air, and the sky was cloudless. A good day for sailing.Matilda stood before the ship that would carry her through the first leg of the journey. It would sail to a prearr