I held out my hand for Zara to go first. “We hope we didn’t wake you,” she told Bran as she passed by him.
“Not at all, Future Empress,” he said.
Once inside his sitting room, he had us come sit before the fire on hard-backed chairs, worry etched on his face.
“You must forgive me for not having more comfortable seating,” he said with another bow toward Zara. “I don’t entertain many people here.”
“It’s perfectly comfortable,” Zara said, which seemed to ease some of his concern.
“We won’t keep you, so I’ll jump right to the point,” I said, and he nodded. “We are looking for a servant, and I hope you remember him. When you first came to speak to me about the missing staff, we encountered a man with a reddish tint to his hair.” Bran looked thoughtful but not as if he knew whom I was talking about. “You were upset when he retrieved the emperor’s journal,” I prompted, and his face lit up.
“Yes, yes, I know exactly who you mean. His name is Caelen.”
“Where can we find Caelen?” Zara asked eagerly.
“He works during the night, so he should be asleep in his room,” Bran said. “Shall I show you the way, Commander?”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said.
Bran nodded. “Then you’ll find his room in the east wing of the servants’ quarters. It’s the fourth door on the left.”
I stood. “Thank you for your help, Bran.”
“Of course, Commander,” he said, bowing again to us both. Before we could leave, he cleared his throat. “Has Caelen done something wrong, Future Empress?”
She hesitated. “We just need to speak to him about an important matter. We’re so sorry to disturb your privacy so early in the morning, but thank you for helping us.”
Bran didn’t ask anything else, but I could see he very badly wanted to.
We hurried quietly toward the east wing of the servants’ quarters, still passing no one else. When we arrived at the fourth door, I didn’t knock this time. I pushed on it, only to find it barred from the inside.
None of the servants were allowed to keep their doors locked. With a signal to Zara with my eyes to stand back, I rammed the door with my shoulder. It took several tries, but the weak wood finally splintered under my assault, and I burst through it.
A man I recognized as Caelen stood in front of his cot, face pale as new-fallen snow, with a death grip on a dagger. He was dressed like any other servant, in a somber gray tunic and pants with quiet cloth shoes. His facial features were even and unremarkable, with brown eyes to match his brown hair. In this dim light, it was hard to discern whether his hair held the reddish tint I remembered.
“Possession of a weapon by a servant is forbidden in the palace,” I said with a meaningful glance at his dagger. “I suggest you drop it.”
He did so warily, never taking his eyes off me, even when Zara came into the room behind me. Caelen’s eyes widened when he saw her, and he bowed.
“Future Empress,” he said, “to what do I owe this visit?”
I remained in front of the door, blocking the only exit. “Tellme your name,” I said gruffly before Zara could respond to him. She would be too kind, and Caelen needed to know I would do whatever was necessary to get the answers I needed.
“Caelen, sir,” he replied.
“Caelen—if that’s your real name—I know you’re not a servant.”
Caelen stayed silent, as though appraising the situation. “What makes you say that?”
“I’m more observant than people give me credit for, and I’ve spent a lot of time with a sharp-eyed eagle.” Caelen didn’t answer, while I turned the full weight of my stare on him. “If you feel like holding your tongue, I could always take you to stay in the west wing for a night or two. I think we’ll find you to be more forthcoming after that.”
Caelen paled even more, his face taking on the faint sheen of nervous sweat.
“This is how I know you’re not a simple servant. Not even the guards know what dwells in the west wing, but I think you do. Whatever skills you may have, I guarantee you can’t win in a fight against the two of us.”
I took a threatening step toward him.
“If you know about the dark sorcerer,” Zara said, and Caelen’s gaze instantly jumped to hers, “then I think you’re in need of allies. We”—she paused to gesture toward herself and me—“want the same thing you do: to get rid of it.”
