Page 51 of The Dead Queen

Hunter’s face twists in wariness. “What kinds of things?”

The low light casts shadows across the ridiculous floral arrangements throughout the room. I’m tucked into this soft, warm bed, healed and lovingly cared for … but I still don’t feel safe. I never do in the palace.

I throw the blankets off of me. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I move to get out of bed, but Hunter places his hands on my shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, Sienna. You nearly died!”

“Which is why I need some answers.”

“Can’t they wait until morning?”

“No.” I fight away a wave of lightheadedness. “They can’t.”

I step off the bed, grateful that someone put me in one of those god-awful frilly nightdresses or else I’d be standing in front of Hunter in the nude. He blushes anyway. I grab a dressing gown from the closet, throwing it over my sleep clothes to make me appear more presentable. It’s not at all to my taste, too many bows and pastels for my liking, but I don’t have time to change into something less ridiculous. I tuck Grandmother’s necklace under the fabric.

“Can we at least talk for a minute?” Hunter asks, looking alarmed by my sudden resolve.

I reach for the door handle, then pause. “You can come with me. You need to hear this, too.”

I throw open my chamber door and two guards stand at attention. Hunter scrambles after me, looking like he hasn’t slept in a decade.

“Take me to him,” I say to the guards.

“He’s in hiding,” one says. “From the Wolf.”

I lower my eyes. “I am the heir to the Fox Throne. And I said, ‘take me to him.’”

They do.

We take the hidden passageways, guided by our own light. The luminescent orb bobs ahead of us, showing the way through the narrow stone corridors. After several turns and downward spiraling staircases, we’re deep in the palace’s underbelly.

The guards lead us to a thick wooden door that opens on squeaky hinges. We pass through and emerge into a mildew-smelling chamber with at least a dozen more guards standing at the ready. There are no windows, no other doors. My father is truly in hiding, afraid of the Big Bad Wolf. His fear makes me brave.

Even though it’s the middle of the night, Father isn’t sleeping, either. He’s sitting at a desk, writing furiously. When he hears the door open, he stands abruptly.

“Who let you in here?! I said no visitors until the Wolf is found!” He sounds unhinged in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s both alarming and deeply satisfying to witness.

“I forced them to bring me.” I say, standing tall. I’m not afraid of the Wolf, after all. “I see you’re relieved to discover that I survived my injuries.”

He doesn’t even have the decency to look flustered. “My congratulations.”

This room feels like a prison. Maybe it is. No one would ever find a person locked away down here. The walls glisten with dripping condensation and there’s a collection of emerald green moss and fungi growing in the corner. The air down here is thick with the smell of earth, as if fresh air never reaches these depths.

I take several leisurely steps toward Father’s desk. “Rumor has it, the Wolf sliced my throat and spilled royal blood—nearly killing your heir.” I stare at him, allowing my eyes to do the rest of the talking.

We both know the truth.

Father doesn’t react. “He’s a menace and a villain.”

“Hm.” I purse my lips. I’ll keep his secret for now. Not that anyone would believe the truth from me, except for maybe Hunter. Behind me, he shifts, unsure what to do. I gesture toward him. “I brought my betrothed.”

“I can see that.” Father’s eyes narrow on the guards who brought us. They’ll be punished, but I can’t worry about that now.

“I have questions for you.”

“As always.” His voice is unamused.

I step toward him. “Is it true that we’re the aggressors in this never-ending war, not Annwyn?”