“What has befallen her?” he demanded, and Saga exhaled. He was speaking of Lady Geira, not her, thank the gods above. The High Gothi’s heavy footfalls thudded beyond the door. But then they paused. “Why is this door shut?”
Panic seized Saga, but thankfully, it channeled her into action. She dove behind the heavy curtains, pressing her back to the wall. Blood rushed in her ears as she held her breath.
The door groaned open. Footsteps entered the room. She heard the rustle of the High Gothi’s robes—each breath he drew in.
Sweat dotted her brow, but she did not dare wipe it away. Surely the man could hear the break-neck pace of her heartbeat. Surely he’d sweep the curtains back to reveal her hiding place.
Chest tightening, Saga began reciting the exits.
The door through which she’d entered.
The window.
That was it. The realization was not calming in the least. She tried to slow her breathing but could not seem to get anything but quick sips of air. Gods, she needed to flee, needed to get back to the safety of her chambers…
Valka’s distant call had the High Gothi’s footfalls reluctantly turning. And then they retreated, leaving Saga alone once again in the study.
Her heartbeat was deafening in her skull. That was far too close. Saga couldnotbe discovered here. Tears burning up her throat, she was forced to decide—stay and risk discovery, or leave and regroup for another day. Three days, she still had three days, but if she were discovered in this room, the ruse would be up—Saga would be punished and unable to help Eisa. With a shaky exhale, she eased her way out from behind the curtains and moved toward the door.
Her slipper caught on the rug and Saga stumbled. Righting herself, she turned. The rug had folded back on itself, revealing a floor plank a hair’s breadth higher than those surrounding it. Saga crouched. Prodded the board’s edges. The corner pressed down with a gentle click. And then the entire board lifted, revealing a hidden alcove.
Time seemed to slow as Saga reached into the compartment, pulling out a scroll and stack of parchment. She turned the scroll over, frustrated at the lack of seal. But as her eyes fell upon the name, Saga wanted to scream with joy. It was addressed to Signe. She unrolled it and read.
We’ve unraveled the mystery behind our poor results. It appears our samples were contaminated. An individual has confessed to letting a red-haired womaninto the room three months past. We believe it was Skraeda Clever Tongue who persuaded him, and that she made off with our most vigorous stock. As she would not have been properly washed, contamination ensued. It has taken us two months to understand our troubles.
It would be wise to send the Black Cloak after Clever Tongue and to speed our timeline. Svaldrin may be compromised.
—Maester Lekka
She turned to the stack of parchment. Unlike the small, cramped writing she’d seen on the High Gothi’s scrolls, this penmanship had a curving flourish to it. This had to be Lady Geira’s writing. Glancing at the open doorway, Saga swallowed. And then she read.
An ursine awakening, part 3
I walk into the forest, barefoot and clad in naught but a wolfskin, as Ursir requested. My heart pounds and I am frightened, but I know what I must do. I am a sacrifice. Chosen by Him. And now I walk willingly…
Saga’s nose wrinkled, and she turned the parchment over. Gods, it continued for quite a few pages.
…I yield to him, and he lays me on the soft moss, unsheathing his husky staff. Ursir cleaves into me, and I’m naught but sensation. A creature of pain and pleasure. His appetite is fervid, his motions quick, and the Bear God tilts his head and roars to the skies…
Saga didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. This was devotion on an entirely different level. Reluctantly, she tucked Geira’s story into her bodice—a handwriting sample was a handwriting sample. Even if Geira noticed a single page missing, Saga doubted she’d risk the humiliation of retrieving it. But the letter to Signe—were that to go missing, Geira would surely need to inform the queen.
After a moment’s hesitation, Saga slid Lekka’s letter back into the alcove, her last desperate hope fading as she felt around for the sealer stamp. It was not there.
After pressing the board back in place and smoothing the rug over top, Saga dashed out of the study and down the corridor.
The High Gothi’s voice carried from the bedchambers. “I shall fetch the cup, wife. An extra Letting shall purge the malevolence from your blood.”
If Saga were a better person, perhaps she’d feel a twinge of sympathy for Lady Geira. Instead, she felt only a perverse sense of justice. Reaching the drawing room, she pulled Lady Geira’s necklaces from her pockets and tossed them into the chaos.
And then, Saga slipped from Geira’s quarters and dashed down the hall.
The parchment lay heavily against her chest, but as Saga rushed through the eastern wing of Askaborg, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry.
The wax sealer stamp hadn’t been there. And now, only three days remained before word would be sent north.
Chapter Fourteen
KALASGARDE
