Tiberius was right. They did have to leave. No more hesitation. No more uncertainty.
“We must leave before we lose this opportunity,” she declared, taking control of the situation once again. “We make for the Dawnspire.”
Sir Tristan saluted and swiveled on his heel, hurrying toward her bedchamber, toward the secret passage hidden there.
She swiftly followed, the rest of her people right behind.
Another shout pierced the air just outside her quarters. Aboomsoon chased it—one that reverberated through the walls.
The barricaded door rattled.
Alyx hissed.
Her sitting room already looked ransacked—all her many belongings scattered across the floor, the fine furnishings piled high before the exit. Worthless things. Things she felt no remorse about leaving behind.
Passing into her bedroom, Seraphina barely registered the box of jewels abandoned atop her vanity, nor the many fine gowns left hanging in her already open wardrobe. None of it mattered.
Only the wardrobe itself did.
Sir Tristan was already there, sweeping aside gowns, pressing his hand along the paneling until—click. The narrow section of wall shuddered and shifted inward, revealing a sliver of darkness.
“The Lord go with you,” she whispered to the knight before he disappeared into the shadows.
The sitting room door boomed again. The wood groaned.
Duke Percival was the last to limp into her bedchamber, Rogue padding alongside. “Olivia, please. I must speak with you. Edith, go with Her Majesty. I will be right behind you.”
Her godmother balked. “I am going nowhere without you.”
Olivia slammed the bedroom door shut behind them all and locked it fast with the iron ring of keys she bore. “Make it quick, Percy.”
“There isno timefor any of this,” Lord Tiberius snarled again, pulling his rapier free of its scabbard. The blade glinted in the afternoon light. “They are at the door. We have to evacuate the queen.”
Seraphina’s attention flickered between her family and the yawning darkness of the passage. She could not leave them.
She could not stay.
“Sir Arkwright,” she finally commanded, “on me. We will go on ahead and wait at the first intersection.”
Olivia’s reaction was immediate. Visceral. “Absolutely not,” her best friend snarled.
Alyx hissed again, wings half-flaring.
The barricaded door splintered with a sickening crack.
Their time was up.
“Go!” Duke Percival shouted. “We will be just behind. Wait at the first intersection. Arkwright, stay on her.”
The captain of her guard snapped a salute. “Aye, Your Grace.”
Seraphina drew in a deep breath, like a woman about to plunge into icy waters. Her eyes locked with Olivia’s. “Follow me when you can,” she whispered before slipping past the silk and velvet of her gowns, forging into the darkness.
Sir Arkwright and two dozen guardsmen pressed in after her, surrounding her in the narrow corridor. Lord Tiberius followed suit, shouldering himself through the pack until he loomed at her side.
“Go,” she urged, following Arkwright into the black. Her captain’s steps were cautious, unsure. But she could have traversed this tunnel in her sleep. Out of all the secret passages the palace walls held, this was the one she used most often. Especially of late when she visited Reyla’s cottage in the middle of the night…
Her breath hitched.
