“This is Cosmos,” I offered. He let out a yip that might have been mistaken for a growl, and the tall man flinched.
“You brought your…dog.” He said the word belatedly, as if unsure it was the accurate term. I didn’t think the question needed answering and so remained silent. “Animals are not allowed in the palace,” he continued. “I suppose he can bed down in the stables. Benj!” he called, raising his voice and summoning the young lad who’d been busy attending the stallions outside. “Take this…dog…with you as you leave, please.”
The stable boy, all dark curls and dimples, nodded, then snuck a glance at me, smiling. “What’s his name, miss?”
“Cosmos. He’s very well trained. I shouldn’t think him any trouble at all. In fact, I think he’d—”
“Be that as it may,” the older man said, cutting me off, “there is much to be done. Any…distractions…could prove to have deadly consequences.”
I sighed, then bent down to scratch at Cosmos’s ears. “You go with Benj now and be a good boy. I’ll come find you when I can.” I kissed the top of his silky head, then straightened and watched the pair slip off into the night.
Slowly, I turned and offered the gaunt man a thin smile.
He cleared his throat. “Now then, I take you are Mademoiselle Trépas?”
“You can call me Hazel,” I said, holding out my hand.
Pale eyes, neither blue nor gray, swept over my offer, and I could see him remembering how I’d just scratched Cosmos. I lowered my hand.
“I am Aloysius Clément, the king’s valet. If you need anything during your stay with us, you must ask me and me alone. We needn’tconcern the whole of the palace with the king’s…dilemma.” Aloysius’s gaze flitted away from me to the pair of footmen paused beside us. “What are you still standing here for? Take those things to Mademoiselle Trépas’s room at once!”
The pair startled into motion, bringing in my trunks. Just before the door shut, I caught sight of five figures approaching the portico, and my mouth went dry.
They stumbled out of the darkness on legs too bony to support their weight, their grave clothes rustling like the husks of desiccated insect shells.
My ghosts.
I had no idea how they were already at the palace, how they’d managed to follow me so fast, but didn’t have the time to wonder.
“Salt,” I said, turning to the valet, sputtering out my nonsensical demand too loudly. “I will need to have the grounds of the palace salted before I can begin. Every doorway, every window. Any entrance will need to have a line of salt.”
Aloysius raised a solitary eyebrow. “Salt?” he repeated.
I nodded. “The king is ill,” I began, piecing together the first explanation that came to mind. “The salt will help to keep out bad spirits.”
It was true enough.
The valet only blinked.
“It will need to be done immediately. Now, please, if you would.” I tried to straighten my spine, drawing up to my full height, but still felt small and silly before him.
“Bad spirits.” He licked his lips. “I must admit, when the oracle foretold that His Majesty’s healer would be found in Alletois, I didn’t realize just how provincial that would make you. Do you haveany comprehension of how many doors and windows the palace commands?”
“I understand the magnitude of what I’m asking,” I said, even though I didn’t, not truly. “But I assure you, Monsieur Clément, my methods work.”
After a painful pause, the moment stretched out like taffy pulled too long, he barked an order for the salt, and a trio of footmen I’d not even known were near us sprang into action, their footsteps echoing down the corridors.
“Thank you,” I said in as dignified a manner as I could muster. “Now…this will be my first time dealing with the Shivers,” I admitted. “Any details you can share, however big or small, would be most helpful.”
Aloysius pressed his lips together before responding. “I am not a doctor, and I believe His Majesty would prefer an on-site examination of his personage. Better that you should see it with your own eyes than for me to describe it and accidentally speak out of turn.”
I paused. I knew the words he’d spoken—they were said with a delicate simplicity that suggested he thought I might not understand anything bigger—but they were such a jumble of empty phrases and fillers, it was as though the valet was speaking another language entirely.
“Now, if you will follow me, I’ll show you to your chamber. You may wish to freshen up before seeing His Majesty.” His tone implied more a directive than a suggestion.
Aloysius turned on his heel and strode down the hall without checking to see if I followed. I lost sight of him after he took a swift turn to the left. He was surprisingly spry for his age, and I had to bolt after him to keep from getting lost.
We took another turn, going deeper into the palace. It seemed an endless maze of identical walls and closed doors. After six more turns, I wondered if he was purposely taking me down the same hall to confuse my sense of direction. But Aloysius hardly seemed the type for games or wasted effort. Just how many miles of corridors snaked through the palace?
