“Good instincts,” I tell her.
“There was a doorway like this at House Eternal,” she says. “Sometimes I put on a servant’s uniform so I could walk around.”
I know it isn’t her intention, but the words sting. I’m jealous of the time she spent there with her Laconian lord. I push aside the negative feelings to focus on the task at hand. “I’ll go first,” I offer.
She almost protests, but ultimately allows me to step past her.
Voices. Coming from somewhere in the laundry. “I want a thorough check,” a man says. Blackcoats. “The two who took down the Octoblade. They’re still missing.”
“Yes, sir,” another replies.
Gin reaches out and shuts the closet door as quietly as possible, leaving us in darkness once again. I take a single step, heart racing, between the guards behind us and the unknown in front of us. There’s no time for hesitation. The guards can open that door at any moment. I gather as much bravery as possible and step down again to give Gin space. Together, we pull the shelf back in front of us. There’s a clatter as items fall.
“What was that?” we hear one of the guards say. Then the two of them are silent.
We rush down a few more steps, then crouch in the darkness. We wait and wait, but don’t hear the guards.
As we start to move, the closet door flies open and a guard shouts: “In the name of Lacon! Show yourselves!”
He shuffles around in the closet. But he sees nothing, we’re hidden behind the false wall. “Nothing here,” he calls to the other.
That one replies: “Mouse. As I said.”
The guard leaves and closes the door behind him.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. As we stand to go, Gin trips over the step. I grip her waist to steady her. For a second, we freeze that way, and I resist the urge to wrap my arms all the way around her. The air between us is charged. I can hardly make out the shape of her, even as she stands mere inches away. For a moment, I wonder if I should kiss her, right there on the stairs.
But then the spell is broken. “Thank you,” Gin says, clearing her throat. She hurries down the steps again, and my hands fall back to my sides.
The staircase doesn’t go straight down, it curves around, nearly a spiral, and quite narrow. Water drips somewhere, plinking in the distance. There’s a strong scent of dirt and water. I brush cobwebs away. I have a feeling no one has used this passage for a long time.
At the bottom, we duck beneath a low opening, framed in splintered old wood. There, we’re faced with yet another door. Gin and I exchange a look, I nod, and without any further hesitation or warning, she yanks the door open.
Nothing happens. There are no guards. We’re greeted with yet another dim passageway, stretching out in both directions. There’s some light, at least, from the yellow glow of oil lanterns hanging here and there. So even if there isn’t anyone present at the moment, the passage is definitely in use. We creep into it. “Which way?” I ask.
Gin turns back and forth between the two, then she says, “Right.”
I turn to shut the door behind us and see that, like others in the palace, it’s disguised. There’s thin stone applied to make it look like the rest of the wall. I use a crack to pull it shut, should a guard happen by and notice it open.
We walk as fast as we can without making too much noise. The ceiling is so low, I can reach up and touch it. There are occasional indents along the wall, and I wonder if those are also secret entrances.
Something clangs shut, stopping us in our tracks. Boots on stone. Frantically, we search around for somewhere to hide, settling on one of those indentations in the stone wall. We flatten against the wall as the steps come closer and closer, walking at a steady clip. At that rate, while we’re focused on our destination and nothing else, it’s possible someone could walk by and fail to see us lurking in the shadows. But should the guard decide to look in our direction, it’s all over.
The guard is mere feet away. I brace myself.
The steps stop.
We hear him fussing with the lantern. Refilling the oil. That means he’ll stop directly next to where we are. I wait with bated breath.Come on.
Footsteps again. Gin reaches out to squeeze my hand. The gesture makes my heart soar, and gives me the extra jolt I need to do what I do next.
The guard stops right next to us. He puts his oil canister on the ground and whistles as he removes the lantern on the wall. When he reaches down to pick up the canister, I leap out from our hiding place. The guard doesn’t even have time to cry out. I grab the canister off the ground and slam it into the side of the guard’s head. He falls to the ground immediately.
I grab the unconscious guard under his arms and Gin picks up his feet. We drag him to the spot where we’d been hiding and situate him so he sits up against the wall, hidden from view. “By the time he wakes up, we’ll be long gone,” I say.
We continue on in silence through the depths of the palace.
Soon enough I hear movement again. Our eyes meet. This isn’t just one guard. Multiple footsteps, pacing. Something scraping against the floor. Low mumbling. Tapping. All right around the next corner.
