by Jayne Faith
This was all an opportunity for the Duergar to show off their riches and power under the guise of merry social events. The diplomatic discussions would formally begin in the morning, and I had no doubt that those would involve very little merriment. But that was Maxen’s department. Marisol had sent him and the others to try to talk Periclase into dropping his bid for absorbing the Stone Order into his kingdom.
I looked around, taking in the faces of the Duergar guards—what little of their faces I could see behind the armored masks—the dancers, and the other attendants. Any of the Duergar surrounding us could be spies. Knowing the Unseelie, maybe all of them were. I sobered as I considered my mission and just how difficult it was going to be to slip through the Duergar palace to search for Nicole. There would be even more people around later that evening, when I planned to break away from the party.
It might be necessary to reconsider my tactics. I wasn’t among fighters and blunt talkers like I was used to with my own people, or with the Guild mercs. Here, everyone was part of some scheme or intrigue, dealing in information and trading secrets.
“Spent much time in Unseelie courts?” Emmaline asked.
“No,” I said. “Is it that obvious?”
She gave a tiny shrug. “I’d guessed,” she said.
“How about you?”
“Yes, actually, that’s one of the reasons I was granted this assignment. From the age of thirteen, my mother made me spend a month every summer vacation at court, both Seelie and Unseelie. I had to bust butt to be ready for training each fall after missing out on summer sessions.” She rolled her lavender eyes, obviously still frustrated at the memory.
My brows rose, and I looked at her with new respect. She’d made it clear she wanted to go into a line of work that involved a weapon, but her parents had made sure she was well-rounded. It wasn’t unusual for young people in Faerie to spend time in foreign courts, but it was less common among New Gargoyles, and it was something Oliver had probably known better than to try to force on me. Or maybe it hadn’t ever occurred to him in the first place. Emmaline didn’t appreciate it yet, but her experiences would serve her well. And perhaps on this particular trip, they’d serve me well, too.
I leaned close to my page. “If you’ll help me out, I’ll make it worth your while when it comes time to apply to the Guild,” I said to her.
Emmaline’s eyes gleamed, but she managed to keep her professional veneer. “It’s my duty to help you, my lady,” she said, her words formal but careful.
In spite of what she’d said, I knew by her deliberate look that she’d accepted—we had an agreement. Now I just had to figure out what I needed her to do.
We didn’t have time to discuss it, though. Maxen had broken away from his post and was sauntering up. Emmaline stepped away, almost seeming to melt into the background of people.
He nodded at Lochlyn. “Lady Tisdale. So nice to see you.”
“I’m honored to be allowed to join your party, my lord.” She gave him a coquettish little smile before lowering her head in a deep, graceful curtsy.
He bowed with a flowery twirl of one hand, and she curtsied again.
I groaned loudly. “Could the two of you stop enjoying all of this quite so much?”
“In case anyone asks why I’m along, you could just tell them I’m a gift of entertainment,” Lochlyn said. She fluffed her hair. “Say the word, and I’ll sing their faces off.”
A bright, ear-splitting bugle flourish nearly made me jump out of my skin.
King Periclase was moving with his guards to the head of the trail, and the entire party was shifting around, ready for the procession.
Maxen linked his arm around mine and offered his other arm to Lochlyn. I tried to pull away—I didn’t want to draw attention by walking on the arm of the most conspicuous New Gargoyle there, but Maxen flexed his bicep, clamping my arm against his side. He pulled us to the head of the New Gargoyle group.
I looked up to find King Periclase’s gaze trained my way. I didn’t like the unblinking way he watched me. I inclined my head in a tiny bow, but then looked away, hoping that someone else would draw his attention. I had a split-second of paranoia, suddenly thinking that he’d guessed I’d come to claim Nicole.
As the Duergar king turned and began leading the party down the road, I couldn’t help wondering if I should have found a different way to come here. Something less conspicuous. As we began to move forward in the procession, I looked up at the hawthorn trees and spotted a camouflaged archer among the foliage.
In sharp contrast to the celebratory bugling and chatter, a knot of foreboding began to tighten in my stomach. The Duergar palace began to come into view down the road. Nicole was in there somewhere. I just needed to figure out how to find her and get the hell out.
Chapter 13
THE DUERGAR PALACE was all baroque curves and flourishes, with streamers flowing from the highest turrets and fluttering banners draping over the walls. It was made of pale-gray stone, and it seemed there was an armed sentry in every window and on every walkway. Again, the juxtaposition of guards and weaponry with cheery festivity set me on edge.
The party went up to the main entrance of the palace, where the huge steel doors were swung outward for our arrival. Inside, we passed through a courtyard with miniature hawthorn trees and pleasant fountains and went on into the central interior. The space inside was grander than the New Garg fortress—high ceilings, statuary, luxurious overstuffed furniture, and fresh flowers in giant vases.
A legion of Duergar attendants awaited us in a neat line. As soon as the entire party had gathered in the great hall, they broke formation and approached the guests they were assigned to. When a waif-like young Duergar man with shifting eyes headed my direction, Emmaline hopped around in front of me and intercepted him.
Maxen let go of my elbow. “I’ll send for you after we’ve been shown to our rooms,” he whispered in my ear.
Oh, great. That wouldn’t cause any gossip at all.
He stepped away before I could reply.
Emmaline came to me brandishing her tablet. “I can take you and Lady Tisdale to your room, now.”
I glanced around, looking for the shifty-eyed Duergar attendant and spotted him sulking at the edge of the group.
“I told him we wouldn’t need him until later,” Emmaline said with a wan smile.
“Fine work,” I said appreciatively. “Please, lead the way. I can’t wait to change out of this.” I plucked at the fabric of my dress.
The party began to disperse as the guests were taken to their quarters.
Emmaline consulted her tablet, which I saw had a layout of the Duergar palace, and then took us toward a doorway that led out into another courtyard. The Duergar boy trailed behind us.
“You and Lady Tisdale are sharing a suite up there,” my page said. She gestured up at the second-floor balcony that ran around the rectangular courtyard. “All of the guests will be on the same floor.”
We went up a staircase and around to a door with a pink flourish design molded onto it.
Once inside, I spotted our luggage and eagerly went to my trunk to pull out a blouse and a pair of riding pants. I set Mort against the wall so I could change. Emmaline closed and bolted the door before our Duergar attendant could sidle inside.
“He shouldn’t expect to be let into ladies’ quarters anyway,” she muttered.
Lochlyn was moving around the suite, making delighted sounds at the canopied beds, the mirrored vanity, and the crystal chandelier that hung in the small sitting room. The accommodations were luxurious, to be sure, but I didn’t plan to be there long enough to enjoy them.
Emmaline took my discarded dress to one of the armoires to hang it up, and I pulled out my broadsword but left the scabbard on the floor. I went to the nearest wall and started tapping Mort against it.
“What in the world are you doing?” Lochlyn demanded.
“Looking for . . . vulnerabilities,” I said.
I meth
odically moved around the main room. When I got to the area under the window seat, the tone of the sword against the wall panels changed a bit. I knelt and ran my fingers over the panels and then searched for a way to lift the seat, thinking it might be hollow for storage. The seat tipped back, and indeed there were extra quilts piled inside. I moved the quilts and began exploring the storage space with my hands. At one end, there was a panel that seemed loose. I worked my fingertips around the edge of it and pulled, and it opened, revealing a tunnel not much bigger than an air duct.
“Ha,” I said softly.
The space was tight, but big enough for a slender spy to shimmy through.
I found another hollow area near the toilet and one more in the ceiling of the closet. There was also a service panel in one bedroom that I suspected was another way into the quarters. I probably hadn’t found all the secret passages, but I was satisfied I’d found enough of them. They weren’t just for spies. Palaces always had hidden connections between rooms for other reasons, too—often in the name of discretion for sexual interludes. If it came down to it, I might need to use the passages to move around the palace myself.
While I’d been casing the quarters, Lochlyn had danced around humming to herself as she unpacked her things. She sat at the vanity, touching up her makeup.
I went to put on Mort’s scabbard, sheathed the broadsword, and checked that my karambit, a small but wicked knife, was in its pocket on the scabbard strap. Feeling slightly guilty for destroying the stylists’ fine work, I swept my hair up into a high ponytail and coiled that into a bun that was held in place by a few hairpins.
“Could I see your maps of the palace?” I asked my page.
She handed me her tablet, and I scrolled through the diagrams for a couple of minutes. The labeling was woefully sparse, only giving information about the areas where we would be attending events. The rest were big blank blocks.
“How much time did you spend here during your summers at court, Emmaline?” I asked.
“I’ve been here once before, the summer I was fifteen.”
“If someone were held here against their will, have any guesses about where they might be housed?”
Her purple-gray gaze sharpened with interest. She put a finger to her lips and thought for a moment. “There are some quarters behind the stables, a big bunk house. I used to sneak out there with some of the other girls. Either there, or the basement. Not to sound cliché, or anything, but there is a sort of dungeon down there.”
I’d take the stables over the dungeon. Periclase wanted my sister for some purpose, but I would bet that he didn’t want her reporting she was mistreated too terribly at the hands of the Duergar. That would make him look bad.
“Any inconspicuous way to get to the stables from here?” I asked Emmaline.
She pointed at the map. “There’s supposedly an underground tunnel that starts here, just outside the west kitchen at what looked like an old root cellar. But it was barricaded at both ends, so I never got the chance to try it.”
I nodded. “Good to know. How much time do we have?”
“Another half hour until you’re expected for cocktails,” she said.
“Perfect.” I passed her tablet back to her. “Lochlyn and I are going to do a bit of, uh, walking in the garden. We won’t be long.”
Before my page could protest, I grabbed Lochlyn’s wrist and towed her out the door.
“You know what to do, right?” I said to her in a low voice.
She fluffed up her pink-streaked platinum hair with one hand. “You know it.” Her expression turned to pure confidence.
As I’d expected, there were a couple of Duergar standing near the stairway that led down to the courtyard below. They weren’t armed and plated to the teeth like King Periclase’s guards, but they carried weapons and wore the vigilant expressions of men who were on duty.
Lochlyn went ahead while I hung back. The men hadn’t seen me, so I pressed into a doorway to keep hidden.
They each stepped into Lochlyn’s path when she went for the stairs.
“For your protection, you must stay in your quarters until your armed escort arrives,” one of them said.
For protection, right. Periclase wanted to keep us contained.
Lochlyn stepped close to one of the men and placed her hand on his arm. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I just wanted to look for a place to practice. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m Lochlyn Tisdale, world-renowned vocalist. I’ve been working on a new song. Maybe I could sing a little and you could tell me what you think?”
Her voice was taking on the purr of the Cait Sidhe, and she’d maneuvered around so the men were facing her with their backs to me.
She began to sing, her voice reverberating beautifully down the stairwell. I waited for a particularly powerful sustained note, took a couple of hurried steps to the balcony rail, and launched myself over it. Landing in a crouch that finished with a roll on the soft turf below, I paused just long enough to get my bearings and then ran on quiet feet to a corridor leading deeper into the palace.
The jump from the second story might have broken the ankles of another Fae, but New Gargoyles had unnatural bone strength. Plus, being smaller than most of my race, I had less body weight for the impact. I could probably have jumped from the third floor and landed without injury.
I wasn’t dumb enough to gloat yet, though. I was in Unseelie territory and surely already had at least two spies tailing me. That was fine for the moment. I knew they wouldn’t tattle on me yet—they’d be too interested in figuring out why I was sneaking around. When I needed to lose them, I would.
Emmaline had indicated that one end of the tunnel to the stable quarters was near one of the blank blocks on the map she remembered as a kitchen.
I was in a service hallway, but the staff I passed were casting me curious looks. I walked like I owned the place, which usually worked well to prevent anyone from questioning me, but it was only a matter of time before someone decided to notify a higher-up or I ran into a guard. I needed to get away from all of these eyeballs.
The outer perimeter of the palace was designed as a sort of squared-off U. I was still in the bottom of the U, in the section that housed my quarters. I needed to get to the area at the end of the left prong of the U. The entire structure was many times the size of the New Gargoyle fortress, and being unused to Fae palaces, I was going to have to pay attention to keep from getting turned around. My best bet was to get outside as quickly as possible.
Taking a couple of abrupt turns, I was aiming to get to an external door when I caught the unmistakable crisp linen and fresh soap smell of laundry. A laundromat would most likely be situated on an exterior wall, due to the great volume of venting required. I sped up, following my nose and the low, rhythmic rumbles of washing machines and dryers.
My hand was inches from the laundromat door when it swung inward. I was looking straight at the broad chest of a Duergar in light armor.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“Oh, shit, indeed,” he replied mildly.
When I tipped my head back, I locked gazes with a pair of the most remarkable eyes I’d ever seen. Blue rings demarcated the outer iris, bleeding into gold that transitioned into grass-green around the pupil.
I had just enough time to notice that his right forearm was encased in stone armor before I whirled around, ready to dart away.
But three Duergar barreled in from the right and two more from the left. I instinctively reached back for Mort. Wrong move. They obviously took it as a threat, and a second later I was on the ground writhing as one of the guards shot me with a magi-zapper.
It seemed to go on forever, like lightning burning up my spine.
When it finally stopped, all I could do was lie there gasping like a beached fish. I watched helplessly as the one with the stone armor forearm peeled me off the floor and slung me over his shoulder like the living rag doll that I was. Still paralyzed from the zap, I tried to force the gears of my brain to grind in
to motion and tune into what the guards were saying.
When I caught King Periclase’s and Maxen’s names, I knew I was royally screwed.
Chapter 14
I HAD A pretty decent view of the ass of the guy carrying me as I hung over his shoulder like a giant sack of turnips. It was muscular. Not bad. Decent calves, too, as revealed by his tight-fitting trousers.
The feeling was beginning to return to my extremities by the time we’d gone up a couple of floors. I cleared my throat, testing my vocal chords.
“There’s no reason for all of this,” I said, sounding only a little hoarse. “I simply got turned around. I mean, six guards? Just for little old me? Surely that’s an overreaction to a guest losing her way in an unfamiliar palace?”
I put a little extra emphasis on the word “guest.”
“You didn’t get turned around,” said the one carrying me. Again with the mild tone, as if he was out for a stroll in the woods. He didn’t even sound winded after carrying me up two flights of stairs, which I found annoying for some odd reason.
“I assure you I did,” I said. I gave a self-effacing little laugh, still hoping he’d go for it and soften but getting the distinct impression he wasn’t that gullible. “I have a downright atrocious sense of direction. Please, if you just put me down, I can explain.”
He snorted and adjusted my weight over his shoulder. “I know who you are, Petra Maguire. And I assure you, you’re not going to talk your way out of this.”
Ire flashed through me, white-hot. I had a childish desire to try to ruffle him out of his calm tone, but given my predicament, I thought better of it.
“Well, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” I said pleasantly. “But since it appears we’re in this together, why don’t we get to know each other a little? It seems only fair that you tell me your name, seeing as how you already know mine.”