Because the candle’s flame wasn’t the only thing moving. The quilt stirred as well, as though a faint breeze were behind it.
Gwen said nothing as Isobelle stepped forward to pullaside the tapestry from where it covered the wall. Behind it were a series of wooden panels.
She tapped on the first one. There was a heavy thunk. She moved to the next, and tapped it. Thunk. She tried the third.
Her tap echoed with a hollow sound.
‘Youcannotbe serious,’ Gwen muttered, as Isobelle bent down, holding her candle to the wooden panel to inspect it. It was the work of a moment to find the small imperfection in the carving around its edge, where a hint of a breeze was coming in. Carefully, she pressed on it.
The secret door opened soundlessly on its hinges, swinging inward to reveal a dark passage beyond, and steps leading down. Isobelle looked back at Gwen with deep satisfaction and permitted herself to raise one eyebrow.
‘How do you justbelievethings into happening?’ Gwen asked helplessly.
Isobelle smiled, holding tight to the golden certainty in her core, and absolutely ignoring the quivering part of her that wanted to go straight back to the tavern, jump into bed, and pull the covers up over her head. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘No time to waste.’
20
The sort of thing that will make an awfully good story one day
Earthen steps led down into a passage of stone, soil and tree roots. And, concerningly, occasional patches of faint moonlight. Gwen went slowly, as slowly as she dared with Isobelle tense on her heels, testing the ceiling here, choosing different footing there. If this had once been a full tunnel, fifteen years of the harsh seaside winds had partially unearthed it.
Or else it had once been a path that the ground had nearly finished swallowing.
Isobelle, behind her, carried the lantern they’d found inside the passage. Its juddering, leaping flame scattered Gwen’s shadow before her, creating monsters behind every root and stone. Gwen had drawn her sword before stepping into the earth.
She wished it werehersword.
Gwen swallowed hard and whispered, ‘No suddenmoves, okay? We don’t know what we’ll find at the end of this tunnel.’
Gradually the patches of moonlight vanished. The tunnel sloped downward and came to a sudden stop at a wooden door.
Isobelle held up a finger, and Gwen waited while she silently stripped off that gorgeous silk cloak and laid it in a neat bundle on the dirt floor. She tied her hair into a knot. The slit skirts, she bound round her ankles.
At the edges of the lantern’s light, the indigo fabric of her dress blended perfectly with the tunnel.
Gwen watched, forgetting her concerns about the door, forgetting the pit of mingled fear and hurt in her belly, utterly bewitched by Isobelle’s transformation. Ethereal goddess of moonlight one moment, and becoming one with the shadows the next. Gwen bit her lip.
Isobelle glanced at her and frowned. ‘What?’ she asked suspiciously, chin lifting in preparation to raise defences.
‘I wasn’t laughing at you,’ Gwen said quickly, heart doing a painful manoeuvre in her chest. ‘I just … you … I …’ Her throat closed, leaving her floundering and only slightly capable of breathing. She could hear in her mind the words she wanted to say, but couldn’t make her lips form them.
Isobelle’s face grew grave and intent, unable to hide the swell of concern as she watched Gwen scrambling forwords. ‘We need to learn who’s behind this door. I’m ready if you are.’
Gwen tried to get herself under control. ‘Yes. Right. Eyes on me …’ She began to mime a countdown, her hand curling around the handle. Isobelle met her eyes, and when they nodded in unison, Gwen opened the door.
Beyond the doorway was a shadowy, narrow staircase that spiralled down into darkness. Each step was formed by a thick slab of rock hammered into the vertical shaft.
Together, Gwen and Isobelle knelt by the hole. Isobelle stretched her arm down as far as she could with the lantern, then drew the light back.
Her eyes slid towards Gwen’s, and they looked at each other for a long moment, for once wearing twin expressions of absolutenope.
Then Isobelle gave herself a little shake. ‘Well, it’s the sort of thing that will make an awfully good story one day. I don’t think I could stand not knowing what’s at the bottom.’
Gwen groaned. ‘Are you sure? I couldveryhappily live out the rest of my days never finding out.’
Isobelle turned to muffle her soft laugh against Gwen’s chainmail. ‘You don’t fool me.’
Gwen reached down and tested a stone rung of the spiral stair with her hand. It seemed firmly wedged, but her attempt dislodged a very tiny, very quiet waterfall of dust that pattered down into the shaft. It went on pattering for an excessively long time.
