The 7th Lie

by Tamara Grantham

  “That’s the capital building and the home of the royals. That big tower on the bottom is where they hold government matters. The two higher levels are where the nobility lives. That’s where you’ll be spending most of your time.”

  I followed his line of sight to the two top towers, and a sudden onslaught of nerves twisted in my stomach.

  As we stepped off the bridge, we came to a row of guards stationed outside the wall encircling the castle. They wore black leather pants and breastplates. Links of silver chainmail glinted through joints in their plated armor. Plaid robes were arranged over their left shoulders, held together with a dragon-shaped brooch, a glittering green jewel for the eye. Copper masks covered their faces. Each guard held a long pike. A dark green banner, tied below the blades, flapped in the chilly breeze.

  “Halt,” two of the guards barked in unison as we approached the main gates. They crossed their pikes with the clanking of metal.

  “State your name and business.”

  Ivan pulled a scroll from his vest pocket and handed it to one of the guards. “Here to meet with Her Majesty the Queen Regent, if you please. This young lady is to be the new caretaker for His Highness, the prince.”

  Through the narrow slit in his mask, the guard’s eyes shifted to me. A chill ran down my spine. The other guard took the scroll and studied it.

  “Is this faked?” he asked.

  “No, sir. I’ve got the queen regent’s own signature there. You can check it if you like.”

  He placed his hands on his hips. “Are you in the habit of telling the queen regent’s guards what to do?”

  “I... ah...” Ivan shifted, casting a worried glance at me before turning back to the guard. “No, sir.”

  The guard loomed closer. “Keep your mouth to yourself, brute, or your neck might end up on the wrong end of a noose.” He pulled a metal, square object from his pocket. With a click, a blue light glowed, and he held it over the scroll. After replacing the light in his pocket, he gave the scroll back to the first guard. “It checks out,” he said quietly.

  “Very well. We’ll let you inside, brute,” he said the name mockingly. “But just so you know, the queen regent has doubled the guard due to the troubles with the miners. Don’t give anyone a reason to notice you.” His eyes shifted to me. “Same goes to you.”

  The guards stepped aside, and the man on the right pulled a lever on the wall. With the sound of rotating gears, the massive bronze gates swung inward. When we stepped through, I exhaled my pent-up breath.

  “That was tense,” I said. “Did they have to be so rude?”

  Ivan shrugged. “It’s their job.”

  I eyed him. “You aren’t upset?”

  “They’re only protecting the castle. Everyone’s on edge. Soldiers with jobs like theirs can’t afford to be nice.”

  We walked down a footpath to a garden area. The intersecting copper-tiled walkways created a network of square patterns. Patches of neatly trimmed grass grew between the squares. The vivid color and perfect texture bugged me.

  “Ivan, wait.” I knelt beside a grassy patch and ran my fingers over the blades.

  “What’re you doing?” Ivan asked.

  “This grass looks unusual.” I plucked a piece, studying the perfect tip of the sword-like blade, the flair of the stem, and its perfect green hue. Still, I couldn’t tell what seemed so out of place, so I picked another blade, then held it beside the first. Their shapes matched up perfectly, the tip and the curve, even the stems running through the center were the same width.

  “They’re exactly the same.” I glanced up at Ivan.

  “Cerecite.” He shrugged. “Haven’t I told you? That’s the answer to everything.”

  “Cerecite makes them the same?” I plucked another blade, comparing it to the first two—the three matched, down to the tiny veins running throughout.

  “Yes. Engineers on this side use green cerecite to create plants. How else do you think anything could grow in the frozen waste of the Bering Sea?”

  “I don’t know. But it does remind me of something.”

  “Remind you of what?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, not wanting to explain the uniformity of the wheat kernels in Vortech’s VR sphere, not sure he’d understand my suspicion—as I didn’t understand it myself.

  Glancing up at Ivan, I wondered how much he knew, and how much he was keeping secret.

  “Ivan,” I asked casually. “Is there anything else I should know about this reality? Anything you haven’t told me?”

  He shifted and glanced away. His eyes darted, and a dark look haunted him for a half second. It was such a brief expression, I almost missed it. But I’d seen that look before. Logan’s training on truth detecting and social cues came back to me with full clarity.

  Ivan knew something. A dangerous secret? Perhaps.

  “I believe I’ve told you all the important things,” Ivan said. “Just remember.” His eyes darkened. “Keep your eyes open in there.” He nodded to the looming palace behind him. “Whoever put the cerecite in there also had something to do with the disappearances of the other agents. You seem capable and smart. I’m rooting for you, Harper. Don’t disappear like they did.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” After standing, I tossed the grass aside and stood to face him “Ivan, that’s really all you can tell me? This world.” I motioned around me. “Something seems off. You don’t know anything else?”

  “No,” he said, a hardened edge to his voice that I hadn’t heard before. “Now, let’s go. No time to waste, Harper. You know the stakes as well as I do. We can’t afford to wait for the second flare to hit.”

  He turned and marched away, and I followed.

  Doubts crowded my mind. Ivan’s reminder of the flare put me on edge. It seemed any time I questioned something, Vortech’s answer was to remind me of the flare. But I had to admit, I’d seen no evidence of a second flare. No news reports. No scientific articles. Not even the conspiracy theorists were talking about it. Were scientists around the globe and world governments really able to keep such a giant secret? Or was something more sinister going on? Something Vortech wanted to be kept a secret?

  I shook my head. Whatever was going on, I would find out, but first, I had a job to do. I caught up to Ivan who was hurrying down the path, though I couldn’t shake the image of the grass and the metallic scent in the air, and I had to refocus my attention on my current surroundings to keep the suspicious feelings away.

  A few soldiers milled around. Some cast lingering stares, but none stopped us, though I did notice Ivan carried his scroll in plain view.

  We traversed to a courtyard leading to the palace’s main entrance. The wind carried the sound of bagpipes. The music grew louder as we approached the sprawling staircase leading up to an entrance hall overshadowed by a Grecian-style gable. Carvings of people riding horses decorated its façade. At the center of the carving stood a dragon, its wings outstretched.

  Two men played bagpipes in the atrium. The acoustics beneath the domed entry amplified the harmonized resonance of the instruments. Ascending the steps in such a foreign place while listening to the familiar sound of the bagpipes made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The melody created a magical aura that floated around the pillars and carvings, unseen, yet felt.

  We crossed through the main vestibule, past a statue of a dragon created from oxidized bronze, and we entered the palace through a pair of carved marble doors.

  The ceiling soared ninety feet overhead. Its square copper tiles glimmered in the light streaming through the walls of windows.

  “Amazing.” My voice echoed, then faded in the room’s expanse. Only a few servants wearing uniforms of black and dark green plaid milled about as we strode into a hallway.

  Paintings of knights wearing armor and the image of an imposing green dragon filled the pictures adorning the walls.

  We exited the hallway and entered a room larger than the foyer. Gold leaf covered the pillars, wal
ls, and ceiling. Our footsteps rang out over the marble floor of midnight blue streaked with veins of swirling gold.

  No wonder Ivan had called this place a utopia.

  At the back of the room, in front of a curtain with golden sashes, a dais rose. Two thrones sat atop it. A woman occupied one of the chairs. Several people stood on the steps leading to her. Guards stood at the alert behind her, and several more paced the outer perimeter of the room.

  We stopped behind the group of people who spoke in hushed tones, though I caught bits of conversations.

  “...petitioning for the sale of wheat and barley in the eastern...”

  I peeked around them to get a better look at the woman on the throne. I recognized the Queen Regent from Ivan’s picture. Pale skin stretched across her skeletal cheeks and collarbones. She wore a black dress decorated with a dark green tartan. A dragon-shaped brooch held the sash in place. She sat with stiff hands folded in her lap. Her lips were pressed together as she scowled.

  “The queen looks better in her picture,” I whispered to Ivan.

  He chuckled quietly. “She’s severe, to be sure. You’ll need to address her as Queen Regent Tremayne, or Your Highness is also acceptable. Be careful of what you say. She’s been known to throw out servants for serving her butter too warm or not styling her hair to her liking.”

  “Wonderful,” I muttered.

  The line dwindled until only we remained. A servant stood beside her, holding a platter with a goblet. He offered her a drink, and she took a small sip before motioning us forward.

  I followed Ivan up the stairs. The queen’s unforgiving eyes followed my movements.

  Ivan knelt at her feet, and I did the same, though I lowered too quickly and rammed my knees into the floor.

  Ouch. I hoped the queen didn’t notice.

  “Rise.” She drew out the word, her tone bored and uninterested.

  We stood, and Ivan took a step forward, then held out the scroll he’d been carrying so prominently with him. “Mr. Ivan Nordgren, Your Majesty. I’ve come with the girl I wrote to you about.”

  “Ah.” She took the scroll from him, opened it, and read it quietly. “Yes, I remember. The caretaker. We’re anxious to find a replacement.” Her words carried a slight Scottish accent. She stood and glided forward, her gown softly rustling as she moved to stand in front of me. I clasped my hands behind my back to hide my nervousness.

  She eyed me, then fingered the ties on my collar before circling me. “What positions have you held before?”

  I swallowed a hard knot in my throat, my nervousness threatening to overwhelm me, but my training kicked in, and I stood with a straight back, my head up, the way I would do if Logan was drilling me.

  “I’ve had several months of training, Your Majesty.”

  “Months?” She tsked her tongue. “That’s it?” Her eyes grew shrewd. “You are awfully young. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one, Your Majesty.”

  She frowned. “Nearly the same age as my nephew. That’s hardly appropriate.” She waved her hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ivan. She’s much too young. I wish you would’ve written to me of her age sooner, but she won’t do. It’s a shame.” She turned to sit on her throne, and Ivan shot me a panicked glance.

  “What now?” I mouthed.

  He only shook his head. My mind went into overdrive. I had to get this job. Finding the cerecite would be impossible without it.

  “Your Majesty,” I called.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Her eyebrows rose in a perturbed gesture.

  “With all due respect, I believe I’m more than qualified for this position.”

  “Is that so, Miss—”

  “Harper,” I answered. “Sabine Harper.”

  “Well then, do tell, Miss Harper.” She waved her hand dramatically. “What makes you think I should let you stay here?”

  “Because I’m observant,” I spoke boldly. “I can tell when anything is amiss. I’m also well-educated. I’ve spent years studying not only Ithical Island, but the world outside our dome. Your nephew will be the most qualified king in all Ithical. I’ll do as you say, and I won’t cause problems. If you want your nephew to be a wise ruler, then you’ll hire me.”

  The queen laughed, then looked at Ivan. “Bold claims. Mr. Ivan, is that all true?”

  “It is.”

  “Well.” She placed her hands on her hips. “In that case, you should know I will expect you to be more than his caretaker. He’s a headstrong young man, and despite his age, he hasn’t spent nearly enough time learning to be ruler. If I hire you, I expect you to be his tutor. You answer to me. If I feel he isn’t progressing in the areas I deem important, then you lose your job. Is that understood?”

  “Completely, Your Majesty,” I answered without breaking eye contact.

  “Very well then.” She finally looked away. “You may stay.”

  “Thank you.” I spoke too loudly, the relief evident in my voice, and she cast me a sharp glance. I cleared my throat and stood straight, doing my best to hide my smile.

  She returned to her throne. “You’ll start work right away. The prince is in desperate need of some education, and I’ll not allow him to while away his time. We’re severely understaffed. We’ve recently lost our housekeeper, but you can speak with Mrs. O’Connor in the kitchens to loan you a uniform and show you to a room.”

  She sat on her throne. Behind us, a line of petitioners gathered.

  “Dismissed,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  “Sorry, where are the kitchens?” I asked.

  “Dismissed,” she repeated with steel in her voice, and I had no choice but to turn around and follow Ivan out of the throne room.

  “Ivan,” I whispered. “Where are the kitchens?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maps of the palace are hard to come by. Royals like to stay secluded. This place is built like a labyrinth, too. But the kitchens...” He rubbed his chin. “Could be on the second tier.”

  We reached the massive foyer and back to the doors leading out. He stopped walking to face me. The warning in his eyes caught me by surprise. “You remember what I told you about the royals?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” His gaze darted, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Don’t trust everything Vortech tells you. Whatever happened to Rodriguez, it has something to do with the royal family. Remember that, and you might survive.”

  I felt Mima’s knife tucked safely in my boot, warm against my ankle. “I’ll remember,” I answered sincerely. “Will I see you again?”

  He shook his head. “Most likely not. But you know where I live. If ever you need help, I’m not far.”

  I nodded, and he held out his hand. I hesitated but placed my fingers in his. As expected, I flinched, and the urge to recoil nearly overwhelmed me, which always happened with extra perception. Sure, I could find things no one else could, but touching people was another story, and it took all my willpower not to snatch my hand away.

  He didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he’d had experience with people like me and knew what to expect. When the handshake ended, he walked away, and I couldn’t help but feel I was losing the last piece of my world. While I was here, I walked in a foreign place among strangers—and possibly those who would make sure I went missing if they found out my identity.

  Clasping one hand around my leather bracelet, I turned to search for the kitchens.

  Chapter 6

  A maze of hallways and staircases blurred in my vision, though wandering the castle did give me an advantage. Memorizing the castle’s patterned layout would help in my search for cerecite.

  As I paced down a hallway, I paid attention to every detail. The table with the vase of flowers—red and white frilly petals, though two of the petals had turned brown. The carpet—a pattern of small squares inside larger ones. The light fixtures—blue glowing rocks sitting inside tulip-shaped glass tubes affixed to the walls.

  The words from Rosa’s j
ournal echoed in my memory.

  Time. Light. World.

  If the objects were disguised as everyday knickknacks, something that resembled one of the three words, then I’d need to find the areas where those things were most common.

  Time. A watch or a clock, maybe.

  Light. A lamp. Could be a candle or something.

  World. A globe, perhaps?

  Most of the hallways were barren except for portraits. The rooms I snuck a glance inside were the same, some with only a table and chairs for furniture.

  As I passed by a large doorway, a guard paused to stare at me.

  Clearing my throat, I wandered away, looking intently ahead as if I had somewhere to be.

  I made it to the foot of a wide staircase, and I decided to take Ivan’s advice and check the second tier. I grabbed the mahogany banister and started up, the carpeted steps muffling my footfalls. As I ascended, I got a better view of the palace. Seeing it from this angle made a stone drop to the pit of my stomach.

  How would I ever find the cerecite in such a vast place?

  I wandered to the second floor, walking past wood-paneled walls and over slate-tiled floors, my bootsteps echoing.

  “Are you lost?” someone asked.

  Startled, I turned around. A man stood behind me. His eyes caught my attention—turquoise blue. Was it the light making them look so bright?

  He smiled as he approached me, and it didn’t escape my notice that he had perfectly placed dimples on either side of his well-proportioned mouth. I caught a glimpse of evenly spaced white teeth. He didn’t dress like the others, as he wore brown leather pants and a white shirt with a leather vest atop it. The lighting gave his shortly cropped blond hair a bluish glow.

  “You don’t look familiar,” he said, his voice softer than I expected and tinged with a Scottish accent.

  “I just arrived today,” I said. “I’m Sabine Harper, the prince’s new caretaker.”

  “I see.” He extended his hand. “I’m the gardener. Cade MacDougal.”

  I shook his hand. His grasp was firm but didn’t linger.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” I said.