At the cusp of the last left, the sound of rumbling voices emerged.
“We’re here,” Maddox said, rubbing his palms on his trousers. Flannery threw a concerned glance my way.
“Are you sure you want to do this, milady?”
I wasn’t. I pulled my hood tight over my head, making sure not a strand of hair poked out. This would be my first time diving into a roomful of vagrants without Mother being in charge of them. But what Dominic did was unforgivable. The sooner he was discovered the sooner I’d be rid of him. I took a deep breath and promptly regretted it.
“Yes,” I wheezed, burying my nose in my cloak again. Sewage air was less than pleasant.
Sandwiched between Flannery and Maddox, I shuffled forward.
“What in the blazing fires...” Maddox whispered.
The final hallway was in stark contrast to the others. The walls were smooth and white, decorated with golden accents not unlike the rooms of the opera house above. Torches lit the interior, but the firelight cut off abruptly at the edges of the hall.
“There’s magic all over this,” I said under my breath. It didn’t make sense. Why would an anti-witch rebellion involve themselves with magic?
Benches sat along the walls, filled with men and women of all ages. Those who didn’t have a seat stood, crowding either entrance. There were perhaps thirty or forty of them. Judging from their dress, most were of the working class. Dominic was nowhere to be seen.
A large crate stood in the center, an empty ring of space around it.
I held my breath, wondering who would step up and speak.
“I’ve never seen you before,” a gruff voice said to my left. A grizzled man with scarred, muscular arms frowned at Flannery. Soot blackened his fingertips. A blacksmith. I squeezed my eyes shut. We were doomed.
“Reckon you haven’t seen lots before.” The suave, uncaring words were almost unrecognizable as Flannery’s. But there he was, looking lazily up at the blacksmith as if the stranger wasn’t thrice his size.
“Why are you here?” the blacksmith asked, narrowing his eyes.
Flannery shrugged. “Same reason as everyone else. Witches ruining my business. Do you know how well they can cut a quill? It’s ridiculous. My pens can’t compare.”
Imagining Flannery as a pen-maker wasn’t difficult. Good thing he didn’t claim to be a locksmith or anything of the sort.
The blacksmith grunted, relaxing his stance. “Those blasted royals didn’t know what they were doing when they let those witches up here again. Did they think some petty tour was going to fix everything?” He scoffed. “No one gives a damn about the crown prince’s marriage. If anything, having a witch queen would make matters worse.”
The people around him agreed heartily. I bit my lip. The tour was coming to a close. King Maximus had to enforce new regulations quickly before the rioters did something drastic.
Just then, a figure stepped onto the crate. It wasn’t hard to miss the insolent set of his jaw.
Dominic held up his arms to quiet the rabble. A few grumbles sounded from around the hall.
“Who let him up again?” a woman muttered.
“Arrogant peacock.”
The general’s son cleared his throat, the sound embarrassingly weak in the tunnel. “The mistress is preoccupied tonight,” he said, “so I have taken her place. She will return for tomorrow’s meeting.”
“Why doyouget to speak for her?” a woman shouted. “A pampered nobleman has no business leading a movement for the people.”
Dominic’s face pinched, searching for the offender in the crowd. I lowered my head, hoping my cloak was plain enough to blend in. “Because I have proven myself capable. Do not forget that my father has made the winter solstice attack possible.”
I stilled. General Turner had been in charge of the Royal Guard in Father’s absence that night.Helet the assassins in.
The woman scoffed. “That attack achieved nothing. The royals didn’t believe the assailants were witches.”
Dominic’s face grew red. “Place the blame on the fools who concocted the plan,” he spat. “My father is a general. As long as he is willing to assist us, we have a fighting chance at bending the royals to our will.”
So General Turner wasn’t the mastermind of this. Instead, it was this mysterious “mistress”. Someone who clearly had access to magic, judging from the nature of the meeting space.
