Ducot snorted. “Tease me and I’ll never do it again.”
Before she could say anything else, Ducot’s magic rippled around him. As a mole, he had no problem scurrying down to the window with the missing pane. He charged headfirst through the parchment loosely tacked up around it. Eira pointed down the ledge and a path of ice extended off of it, wide enough for her to walk normally. By the time she made it to the window, Ducot was already back in human form and holding it open for her.
“I hear people coming,” he whispered. “Get in quickly.”
Eira did as he said, evaporating her magic and leaning against the wall to the side of the window. Ducot had just eased it shut when two knights rounded the corner of the building. She yanked him out of sight. They both watched, holding their breath, but neither knight seemed to notice the small, broken pane of glass or the two people lurking in the darkness above them.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Eira turned her attention inside and tried to get her bearings. She stood in a room with several desks lined up in two neat rows. Each desk was set up in a way that was unique to its user, personal effects strewn across their tops.
“Where are we?” Eira kept her voice low.
“It’s a building for the attendants to the queen, I think.”
“So this is part of the castle?”
“No.” Ducot started weaving through the desks, heading for a door in the far corner. “This is just where people who work for the queen work. And live?”
“Live?”
“Not sure.” Ducot hovered by the door. “We should be quiet as we cut through, just in case.”
She followed his lead and moved as stealthily as possible. After she almost tripped due to the pain in her ankles from her shoes, Eira coated her feet in a thin layer of ice—something she should have done from the start. They went down a dark hallway and along a corridor that led to a grand stairwell. Back on the first floor, Ducot led them through another side entry and along a hall, before stopping at a back door that overlooked a courtyard.
“Please be unlocked,” he murmured as he turned the knob. The door opened effortlessly. “Thank their sunny goddess.”
“I take it there’s a shadow who works for the queen?”
“You think? Just one?” Ducot threw a smirk over his shoulder.
She ignored the jab and seized the opening to ask, “How many shadows are there in the court?”
“I think the Specters are the only ones who really know. More than two hundred? If I had to guess.” Ducot hunched over a sewer grate, opening it with a heave. “Get in.”
“Right.” Eira hesitated at the edge, said a prayer for her skirts, and then descended into what—luckily—seemed to be only rainwater. “How much farther is it?”
“Not too much. We’re taking the indirect route so they don’t see us coming.”
“Naturally.” Eira coated the outsides of her boots in ice, trying to numb the ache.
After several lefts and rights, Ducot came to a stop just at the edge of moonlight streaming through the bars of another grate above.
“Wh—”
He covered her mouth with a hand and shook his head slowly. Eira nodded and stayed silent as he pulled away. It was then that she finally heard the voices.
“…an honor to have you worship with us tonight.”
“It is an honor to be here. I’ve not paid my respects to Her in far too long. I no longer find the Archives to be a suitable place of worship.”
“Truly a shame what the heretics have done to Her hallowed ground,” the first man said. “But we will soon recover and restore it to its former glory.”
Shadows blotted out the moonlight. Three knocks rumbled an unseen doorway and Eira strained her hearing.
“Why do you come on this long dark night?” a third man asked.
“To seek Her light,” the two men said in unison. The door squealed softly as it swung open.
“Truly impressive, the level of security you have here,” the second man said.
