Bijou lay down, her chin settling on her paws.
Nin crept past the concealed door and into the secret corridors Cedric had made her memorize for emergencies. Tiptoeing, she pressed herself against the wall in the narrow passage, holding her breath when the sound of footsteps approached.
Instead of rounding the corner, they turned left, avoiding her completely. Nin let out a relieved sigh and continued her trek.
She pushed open a door just a crack, ensuring no one was occupying the linen room. The smell of soap and starch filled the long and narrow space. Rows of shelves climbed toward the ceiling, stacked with pressed servant uniforms and sheets. Aprons and caps hung on pegs along the wall. Nin padded over the wood floors and snatched a dress, apron, and cap. She discarded her nightgown and robe, hiding them under the shelves. Pinching the extinguished candle wick that hung on the wall, she smeared soot on her cheeks.
With a wicker basket in her arms to complete the disguise, she slipped through the halls, keeping her head down, and descended into the lower levels—determined to find out whatunderneath the palacetruly meant.
She snuck through dim corridors, uncertain what she was searching for, until she came upon a door she had never seen marked on the map. Her heartbeat ticked faster. Anything could be waiting on the other side.
After a steady breath, Nin eased the door open and peeked inside.
Beyond, stone and dirt packed the floors, and water dripped and pooled in the corner. The low-curving ceiling pressed down on the damp room, and the walls were lined with stacks of wooden crates. A sharp, cold draft swept through her woolen dress, chilling her to the core.
Shivers threadedthrough her spine.
An eerie silence choked the air. Whatever was hidden was not meant to be found.
Nin moved closer to inspect the crates, crouching behind a pillar. What could be in them? And why were they down here?
Footsteps rang against stone. Nin whipped around, her back bracing the pillar. Panic flared with every beat of her heart. Two low voices echoed in the chamber.
“Which one is it?” a male voice asked.
“It’s this one,” the other said, his steps brisk before a knocking sounded against wood.
“What’s in the others?”
“A load of nothing. Just forgotten wine crates they dumped in here.”
Nin swallowed the nerves swimming up her stomach. This was her chance to discover their identities, but her limbs froze. She must move.
Now.
Nin forced her shaky legs to still as she crouched. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she glanced around the pillar once more.
A thin blond man holding a crowbar handed it to the brunette man with greasy locks pulled into a tie. Monsieur Ponytail, she dubbed him, thrust the metal into the corner of the crate.
With a grunt, the lid popped free. Monsieur Blondie reached in—
“Careful.”
Monsieur Ponytail caught his wrist before he could reach inside any further. He pulled out a small, thin paper packetinstead. “You don’t want to tear one of these,” he whispered. “Unless you fancy waking up with no memory and a splitting headache. There’s only enough for two.”
Her stomach lurched.
Monsieur Blondie gingerly lifted out a second packet, then a small green vial. “This is everything?”
“It’s all we’ll need.”
A foreboding thought crept through her: Someone had already infiltrated the palace.
She attempted to edge closer for a better look, but her shadow flickered across the wall.
Monsieur Ponytail stilled.
“Wait—what was that?”
