Julian and I exchange glances. It could be an accident—a servant who was going about their nightly routine and barred the door—a coincidence of timing. But it doesn’t feel like that.
Someone locked us out.
I glance at the palace; there is a kitchen window just large enough to fit through. However, it’s too high up to reach from where we’re standing, even if I lift Julian.
“I’ll kick in the door,” I say.
If it’s barred with thick metal or heavy furniture, I won’t be able to, but something smaller could break. It beats trudging through this snow trying to find another way. And the longer we stay out here, underdressed for the cold, the more dangerous it is.
Julian steps out of the way as I stand in front of the entrance, ready to try. I plant my left foot, swing around, and extend my leg, channeling my strength into a single strike. I kick straight into the center of the wooden door. It flies open and bangs into the wall, the wood waving back and forth from the force. But nothing breaks.
Julian and I stare at the opening and then at each other.
“Maybe it was frozen shut,” he says. But he rubs his knuckles. He doesn’t believe his own words because we had no issue getting the door open before.
No, someone was holding it shut, then heard that we were about to kick it in.
I grab my dagger from under my pants leg and hand it to Julian, then I pull out the long blade hidden in the breast of my dinner jacket.
I motion my head for Julian to fall in after me. Wordlessly, he follows. I regret not changing into armor before I moved the body, but my blade will have to be enough.
As we walk inside, the kitchen is darker than when we left. No light comes from the pantry.
That’s not a coincidence, either.
I’m about to tell Julian to get back when something flies at my face. I dive against the wall, taking Julian with me. We fall back just as a dagger clatters onto the ground.
It missed me by an inch.
Heart pounding, I check Julian, but he taps three times on my thigh, giving me the all-clear signal.
We recover just as the door to the kitchens swings open. In the sliver of light, I catch the edge of a white robe fleeing down the hallway. A ceremonial robe from the temple of truth.
XXXV.
Kerasea
I am doomed. I turn on my side, unable to get to sleep yet again.
It’s been hours since Torren walked me to my room, but I keep replaying everything we said in the tower. I don’t know why he wants an alliance, and my ignorance here is a recurring problem. I don’t know who is committing murder. And I also don’t know what the omen means.
I have racked my mind trying to recall my father’s teachings on unusual signs. I wish Mirial were here because she’d know. As High Priestess, I’m supposed to be the font of knowledge, but my father couldn’t teach me every single thing about politics, leading the temple,anddivining from the god in my short time as an acolyte. And we’re far from the Forum, where there are books and scrolls to help me.
Wait.
We passed a library when the Praetorian gave me a tour of the palace. There could be a copy ofThe Compendium of Signs. Technically, an almanac of omens is never supposed to leave the temple, but the king might’ve had one, as there is a divining room in Jubilee.
With no time to lose, I spring from bed and throw a velvet robe over my black nightgown. Then I hike up the hem and strap my dagger to my thigh. Torren told me not to leave my room, but I have to. I have to find the meaning.
I lock my door, then knock on his, but there’s no answer. I pause. Either he’s a sound sleeper or he’s not in there.
I hesitate, torn between proceeding and going back to my room, but I need that book. There’s no decision to be made—I have to go alone.
The palace is silent as I take the main staircase to the first floor.
Although the east and west hallways are lit, individual rooms are dark, and the shadows are vicious. Walking these halls is far worse than the first night because now I know that there is, undeniably, a killer among us.
My skin prickles, my muscles tensed. I breathe in shallow inhales, listening for the telltale sound of being followed.
