Broken Web

by Lori M. Lee

  Most of the souls around us feel far away, doubtlessly tucked inside their homes and their beds. My fingertips grow warm with anticipation, and I quickly shove my magic back down.

  Unfortunately, I’m not aware of any hidden entrances into the Grand Palace. There was a specific entrance for Company students, and the guards there knew me, so I never had any trouble coming and going. We’re going to need a more creative means of entry.

  We take two more turns until we enter the gilded district. Here, every window overflows with golden light. Dozens of lanterns string across the streets, and roofs and walls have been painted in bold shades of purple, orange, and pink. Colored glass globes cast fragments of blue and green prisms across the road.

  The sound of various instruments blends with the din of raised voices, which spill from open doorways. People move from building to building, their robes draped off bare shoulders and heels clacking over the road. Laughter drifts from a window somewhere, and the air smells of salt and sweat.

  “This way,” I say, leading us toward a building that’s painted a garish red with flaking gold trim. Cylindrical red-and-brass lanterns hang all along the eaves, tracing the entire roof in lights. It’s a gaming hall and teahouse. Their dancers perform some of the most exceptional shows in Vos Talwyn.

  We follow an alley along the side of the building toward the back, where the bright lights don’t quite reach. Tucked behind the establishment is a stable and a row of modestly-sized conveyances. Among them is a beautiful carriage of dark wood, hitched to two waiting drakes. Although it lacks an identifying House crest, with its polished black lacquer and buffed silver finish, it clearly belongs to someone of means. A woman is slumped in the driver’s seat, snoring softly.

  Movement from within the stables steals my attention. Stable workers would surely be awake here, awaiting new arrivals and ready to return a drake to a departing patron.

  It only takes me a moment to catch them unawares and knock them out. There are only two as far as I can tell.

  When I return, Saengo has a pinched look on her face. “Why are we dawdling here, assaulting stable workers?”

  “Once, Kendara tasked me with stealing something valuable from a reiwyn lady’s room at the Grand Palace. I followed her around for a few days to learn her routine. She spent nearly every evening at this gaming hall and remained until dawn.” I climb up into the seat beside the dozing driver.

  The woman startles as the carriage rocks, waking up with a snort and a muttered, “So sorry, my lady.”

  I don’t allow her time to notice I’m not her lady as my fist lands squarely on her jaw. Her head lolls to the side, and she’s once again unconscious.

  “Really?” Saengo says, sounding horrified. Still, she helps me haul the driver down from the seat.

  We get her on the ground, and then I strip the woman of her finely made cloak and black tunic. As with the carriage, the tunic’s lack of livery colors is intentionally ambiguous.

  I hand Saengo my swords so that I can pull the tunic over my head.

  “You don’t think anyone will notice?” she asks.

  “Not before we’re gone.” I belt the sash over the tunic, settle the cloak over my shoulders, and then open the carriage door with a flourish.

  Saengo doesn’t look certain, but she adjusts her quiver over her shoulder, tucks her bow against her side, and climbs inside with my swords. Despite weeks of travel and the various weapons on her person, she carries herself like reiwyn with her head back and her annoyingly perfect posture. If anyone were to peer through the windows of the darkened carriage and catch sight of Saengo’s profile, there would be no doubt that a reiwyn lady sat within.

  Once I’m settled in the driver’s seat, Saengo slides open the partition behind me.

  “You’re sure this will work?” she asks.

  “No reason it won’t,” I say. The carriage will be recognizable to the guards.

  I guide the drakes out of the alley and onto the street. Most of the people milling about are on foot, traveling in groups as they pass between establishments. I keep my head down, the hood of the cloak low over my face as we weave around them. Soon, we leave the gilt and glitz behind for the darkened shops and homes lining the main road. Here, the only lights are lamp posts, burning slowly through the night.

  Patrolling guards are scarce, but I force myself to relax and politely nod as we pass a pair. They barely glance in my direction as they nod back. We turn onto a road that winds around the wall of the Grand Palace. The main gates are used only during the day. Besides, anyone coming and going at this hour would use the more discrete entrance.

  The guards posted at the side gate see us coming. One steps forward. My fingers tighten around the reins. Although the hood conceals my face, I tilt my head so that my hair, which has come loose from my braid, falls forward, shielding my face.

  From inside the carriage, Saengo whispers, “Why aren’t they opening the gates?”

  I shush her, slowing the drakes as we approach. With the torchlight at their backs, the soldiers’ faces are cast in shadow. One of them turns away, reaching for a torch hanging from the wall.

  “My sword,” I whisper, sliding my hand through the open partition. But Saengo doesn’t place the weapon against my palm.

  Instead, she calls out, voice pitched low and words slurred. “What’s the delay?”

  I freeze. The guards glance at one another. Even pretending to be drunk, there’s no mistaking her tone. She sounds like an impatient reiwyn lady who’s had too much fun too quickly.

  The guard abandons retrieving the torch and instead moves to open the gate. I slowly release my breath. As I nudge the drakes forward, one of the soldiers calls out, “Apologies, my lady.”

  Saengo harrumphs from within the carriage. I could kick her for taking the risk and kiss her for embracing the pompous reiwyn lady I’ve always known she could be.

  We continue down a narrow lane that leads through the garden. If we follow the lane to its end, we’ll reach the stables, but we don’t need to go that far. Once we’re out of sight of the gates, I stop the carriage and hop down.

  The door opens, and Saengo steps out, shoving my swords at me. I secure them to my back as Saengo slings her quiver over her shoulder, her bow in hand. I lead us through the gardens where it’s dark enough that we don’t need to worry about being seen. Once we enter the palace, we move more slowly, wary of patrolling guards.

  The royal family resides in the uppermost floors of the west wing, but I’ve never even been near that part of the palace. Saengo and I slip from shadow to shadow, darting past lit sconces and ducking into alcoves when we hear the approach of guards. It’s a slow process, but one I’m familiar with after years of sneaking up to Kendara’s tower at all hours of the night.

  After a time, we reach the corridor where a grand staircase leads up to the royal apartments. Two guards stand at the bottom of the stairs. Saengo and I could take them easily, but I’m not sure we’d be fast enough to prevent them from calling out.

  “What do we do?” Saengo whispers at my shoulder.

  There is one way we could get past them, but I immediately regret the thought. Grasping their souls would leave them immobile long enough for Saengo to knock them out. But there are other souls nearby, patrolling guards and servants moving about the palace on late-night errands. It’s too risky with my lack of control.

  Not to mention, what happened in the Dead Wood. A shiver races down my spine as phantom screams echo through my skull. I’m wary of handling any human soul again.

  I shake my head and reach for my swords. “We don’t have a choice.”

  Footsteps echo through the corridor. I pause, and Saengo grips my wrist.

  “Good evening,” a girl’s voice calls to the guards, uncomfortably loud for the hour. Yen.

  I glance at Saengo. I shared my suspicions with her, but neither of us had concluded what to do.

  “Late night, Yen?” one of the guards says. Clearly, they’r
e acquainted.

  “Always,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I just saw two figures sneaking about the western garden.”

  “Are you certain they weren’t patrols?”

  “It’s possible. But given the queen’s concerns about security lately, I thought it best to report it.”

  The other guard says, “We should check it out, just to be safe. Thanks, Yen.”

  They grumble unhappily as they both march off, away from our hiding place. I watch them go. Yen waits, hands clasped at her back, fingers twitching restlessly. She’s dressed in a servant’s uniform, her hair still split into two black braids.

  Once they’re out of sight, she spins on her heel and rushes in our direction. Saengo and I duck behind a statue. As Yen passes, my hand shoots out, muffling her cry of alarm. It isn’t until she spots my face that she relaxes, slumping against me.

  When I release her, she grins and whispers loudly, “Sirscha! It’s so good to see you again!” She looks around, confusion creeping into her face. “Where’s Prince Meilek?”

  She appears genuine enough. I’m probably being paranoid. Even so, I draw one sword.

  Yen eyes the sword uneasily. “Um, Sirscha?”

  “Prince Meilek couldn’t make it. What did he tell you about why we’re here?”

  She hesitates, uncertain, but then says, “You need access to the prince’s rooms and the hidden passage.”

  “Can you show us?”

  She nods and gestures the way we came. “There’s a more direct route this way. We’ll be able to avoid any more guards.”

  As she turns to lead the way, I glance at Saengo and then again at Yen’s back. Saengo nods, gripping her bow.

  We follow Yen through dim corridors and sparse rooms likely only used by servants. She pauses before a set of glass doors with gold rivets in the design of blooming plum blossoms. After first peering through the glass into the empty garden path just beyond, she pushes the doors open.

  She takes two halting steps and turns, fingers wringing at her waist. “Is Prince Meilek all right? He’s not hurt, is he? Is that why he couldn’t come?”

  “He’s fine,” I say. “He needed to be somewhere else.” Her lips twist in disappointment.

  She crosses the small garden, stopping at a bare brick wall. She counts the bricks, her lips moving silently. When she’s satisfied, she gives one a firm push, and a small section of the wall depresses enough for a person to slip through. With a quick gesture to follow, she ducks inside, disappearing from view.

  With little other choice, we follow. Inside, we find a narrow corridor much like the one we used to enter the city. This one is noticeably less dusty, though, and a dim sconce shines in the distance. Clearly, the tunnel is often in use.

  “This way,” she says softly, urging us to continue.

  “How do you know about this passageway?” I ask. Although I speak quietly, our voices carry.

  “I grew up in the palace. The staff uses these passages to move about the grounds without disturbing the queen or her guests. Other passages are less known, though, like the one connecting the prince’s rooms to the queen’s.”

  “And how do you know about that one?” I ask.

  Yen flashes a grin over her shoulder. “My mother. She was a lady’s maid to Queen Pae. I was in training for the position once Queen Meilyr took the throne, so my mother showed me the passages for moving quickly between the royal chambers.”

  I glance at her uniform again. She’s wearing the generic tunic worn by palace staff, not the elaborate clothing required for those working directly with the royal family.

  “That’s a high position for a servant,” I say. “How’d you end up serving the Queen’s Guard instead?”

  Her shoulders tense. My eyes narrow at the reaction. After a moment, she replies, “My mother was shamanborn. She died in the Valley of Cranes. I wasn’t taken because I didn’t inherit any magic, but I was removed from my position.”

  My gaze lowers. Back in Luam, Kou mentioned something about her having shamanborn family, so she must be telling the truth in that regard. So many Evewynians have been lost to the camp and the queen’s vengeance.

  At my lack of response, she looks over her shoulder at me. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  “Prince Meilek trusts you,” I say, in case she needs a reminder of her duty.

  She smiles, the words seeming to fill her with purpose, then nods and faces forward again. I’m not sure what to make of her.

  Behind me, Saengo says softly, “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  She shrugs. “It was a long time ago. Here we are.”

  She nudges a panel in the wall, and it slides open a fraction. She goes out first and then curses as she smacks her temple against the edge.

  Embarrassed, she rubs her head and says, “Catastrophe, remember?”

  “Careful,” I say, as she eases the rest of the way through the gap.

  On the other side is a dark, empty sitting room. Subtle stripes paper the walls, but there are no furnishings. The windows have been stripped of curtains, allowing the moonlight to cast a silvery halo across a bare floor.

  “The queen cleared out her brother’s rooms after she returned from the north,” Yen says, twisting the fabric of her tunic around her fingers. “I don’t know what she did with everything, but she wanted no trace of him left.”

  Suddenly, I’m glad Prince Meilek isn’t here. He’d stood at her side from the moment she took the throne. He’d shared her grief and helped a young queen guide a kingdom in mourning. He’d remained loyal through the execution and imprisonment of Evewyn’s shamanborn. Even after the prison break at the Valley of Cranes when she’d ordered the escapees killed, he’d done what he could to help them without outright opposing her. Despite his efforts to gather allies, I know part of him has refused to give up on the only family he has left.

  Seeing her attempts to erase him would break his heart. While he struggles to have faith in his sister and the person she’d been—the girl who once helped him sneak into a drake race and escape their parents to watch ships make port—she’s done all she could to forget she ever had a brother.

  “The passageway is here.” Yen crosses the room to where a massive stone fireplace dominates the space. “You see the crest of House Sancor?”

  I join her beside the mantel. Chiseled into the stone is the relief of a forest, with trees coming out of winter, their branches budding with spring leaves. At its center stands the likeness of a triple-horned stag. Yen runs her finger over the stag’s third horn and pushes. There’s a slight click, and then the wall beside the fireplace swings inward, revealing the entryway.

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  She grins broadly. “There’s another stag at the end of this corridor. Come on.”

  I glance at Saengo as Yen steps inside first. Fingers twitching with the heat of my craft, I follow her into the dark. The path turns twice before we reach a dead end. Once Yen finds the other stag, we all back up as the wall swings inward.

  Like in Prince Meilek’s rooms, the hidden entrance opens beside the fireplace into the queen’s sitting room. Unlike his rooms, hers are fully furnished. From a large window framed by sheer drapes, moonlight slants across plush sofas, thick rugs, and vases brimming with fragrant peonies.

  My craft stirs, sensing the proximity of souls. One of them must be the queen’s, but there are others nearby, probably her guards outside. More important, though, my magic presses against the boundaries of my control, urging me toward a presence that eclipses all the rest. It’s like a shroud draped over my senses, muffling all else. The Soulless’s talisman is near.

  “Stay here. Keep an eye out,” I whisper to Saengo before my gaze flicks to Yen. Saengo nods in understanding and removes an arrow from her quiver.

  There are two doors in the sitting room. One of them is open, revealing a long corridor with additional rooms. It ends at a curtain of glimmering spidersilk, partially drawn wit
h a golden cord to expose a moonlit balcony just beyond. But my craft pulls me toward the other door, which must be the queen’s bedchamber.

  With a glance at Saengo, who gives me an encouraging smile, I slowly turn the knob and push. The hinges are well oiled, and the door swings open soundlessly. Despite the late hour, the room is perfectly visible. Arched glass windows accented with curling, symmetrical traceries take up the entire back wall. They frame the massive bed at its center, where a gauzy canopy of sheer silks cascade over four thick posts, shrouding the figure sleeping beneath.

  The queen lies on her side, half-buried beneath feather-stuffed pillows and heavy brocade blankets. The soul isn’t there, though, it’s to her left. Nestled atop the dark wood of her bedside table is a small golden container. It looks like a jewelry box sitting on four claw-foot pedestals. The sides are etched gold, and glimmering sapphires construct a snowflake pattern across the lid.

  From within the box, the certainty of the talisman draws me nearer, its power calling to mine with the same mesmerizing impulse as the Soulless’s magic at Spinner’s End. It overwhelms all my other senses, compelling my craft to the fore. I think the soul wants to be released.

  You were always meant to free me, the Soulless had said. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is how I do it.

  I remove a pair of pins from my pocket. I’ve kept them on my person ever since finding the hidden doorway at the Temple of Light. Then I lean over to inspect the keyhole. It’s smaller than the lock on a door, but doable. The soul’s power compresses around me, urging me on, its presence like a soundless scream vibrating in my ears and throat.

  “Sirsch—”

  I freeze, a chill seizing me. Saengo. All reason flies from my thoughts as I drop the pins and draw my swords. Before I reach the door, it swings open, startling me back.

  Saengo enters first, her eyes fierce with anger and her arms held out at her sides. Behind her is Yen. She fists Saengo’s hair with one hand and holds a knife to her back with the other. Saengo’s bow and quiver are hooked over Yen’s shoulder.