Page 58 of The Dead Queen

“Fine.” I nod. “I’ll take you to the border.” I expect to feel regret the instant it’s out of my mouth, but I don’t. Instead, I’m filled with an odd sense of calm, like I’m finally choosing the right path. “I’ll help you escape, in return for one thing.”

His eyes are hard, but he waits for me to continue.

“The truth. You must tell me everything you know about my grandmother and the sympathizers.” I swallow.

“Not until I reach Annwyn.”

“I understand that.”

His nostrils flare as he mulls it over. Then he nods.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the chill of autumn. I likely just signed my own death warrant, helping a criminal escape. Worse, I’m helping the king’s would-be assassin go back to Annwyn.

“Tonight,” I say. “I’ll gather supplies and meet you back here at midnight.”

I’m in my rooms, stuffing a sack with basic necessities for the journey, when I hear a knock on my chamber door. I still, my soiled borderland dress in hand. Perhaps, if I pretend I’m not here, they’ll leave.

The knock sounds again. I stuff the dress into the sack, then toss the whole thing under the bed before turning toward the door.

“You may enter.”

I expect to see one of my father’s many messengers, or possibly even Hunter, but I’m completely wrong. When a small, old man in brown robes steps inside, I have to do a double take. It’s the librarian.

He gives me a bashful smile. “Many apologies for interrupting you, Your Highness. I hope I’m not too much of an inconvenience.”

“N-no. Not at all. Sir … um.”

He smiles, good-naturedly. “No ‘sir’, my lady. Just Merle. I am but a humble servant to the muse of books.” His quiet, casual nature puts me somewhat at ease.

“I’m glad to finally learn your name.”

He nods his appreciation. “I won’t take much of your time. I heard a rumor that you were looking for something.”

He takes a small, worn book out from inside his voluminous sleeve. He holds it out to me.

I take it in my hands and stare at the cover. There are no words on the leather, just the thin, silver outline of a moth. The same moth that now rests against my breast bone, beneath my dress.

I look up at him, wide-eyed. “How did you …”

“The books, ma’am.,” he says matter-of-factly. “The ones you left behind in the library when Sir Hunter was called away.”

A blush spreads across my face. For a moment, I genuinely thought he’d heard about my interest from the shopkeeper in White’s End, as ludicrous as that would be. A royal librarian would never mix with the likes of a pawnshop owner.

He waves away my embarrassment, likely chalking it up to modesty. He did walk in on Hunter and me in the library, doing quite a bit more than reading. “Fear not, your secrets are safe with me.”

For a moment I wonder whether he means my compromising situation with Hunter, or my interest in moths.

Merle bows, slightly. “I’ll take my leave.” He turns and opens the door.

I hold up a hand. “Wait, please.”

He hesitates, his hand still on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“This book,” I hold it up. “The moth …” I shake my head, trying to find words that make sense. “You once told me I look like my grandmother.”

A nostalgic smile spreads across his face. “I did. She was a great lady. One of the best.”

My heart twists in my chest. “Yes. She was.” I run my fingers over the book cover. The fabric is as soft as a moth’s wings. I make a reckless decision and pull the necklace out from beneath the neckline of my gown.