“The duke and I do not often see eye to eye, but he would not hurt my son,” she replied. “I do not trust Ambrose Madigan.”
“The magician? Is there a reason, lady?”
“His loyalties are questionable,” the countess replied. “He was once very close to his twin brother. They were inseparable before the curse. I would not be surprised if he chose to defend his brother instead of restoring the duchy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, lady, as well as watch over Phelan,” I said, and I hated how her statement about my father planted a seed of doubt in my mind. “Although your son tends to hold grudges. I don’t know if he will ever forgive me.”
“Oh, I have no doubt that he will,” she said.
I watched her walk to the tent entrance, the night wind stirring the canvas as she departed.
I stood for a moment longer, contemplating all the paths before me.
Anna Neven might have given her vow to the Vespers. But Clem Madigan’s allegiance remained to be seen.
34
We rose early with the sun and prepared to ascend, leaving our tents pitched, as if we would soon return for them. The Vespers’ and the duke’s servants would remain behind, tending to the camp. I didn’t carry much: a satchel stuffed to the brim with several changes of clothes, green apples, a wedge of cheese, the journal with my exposé notes, an inkwell and quill. My father had snuck a dagger to me, and it was hidden in its leather sleeve, tucked away in my boot.
I walked with the Vespers’ party through the long, frosted grass, my father, mother, and Imonie leading the way. We were silent, pensive. All too soon we reached the mountain entrance.
Two great wooden doors sat before us, thrice the height of a woman, arched and latticed with iron. I thought about how long it had been since the passage or the lift inside had been used.
“And how are we to open these doors?” Lennox asked with a huff.
“The doors will open on their own, since all six of us are together again. Emrys, the seventh, is already here, of course,” Mazarine said from the back of the line. “Approach the doors, Ambrose.”
My father closed the distance between us and the entrance, and just as the troll predicted, the doors creaked open on their own, streams of dirt cascading from the stone lintel above. The mountain seemed to rumble, as if recognizing the broken court that stood at its feet. The twin doors came to a rest, gaping open like a mouth, eager to swallow us. The passage was dark; I could smell damp stone and rich earth and rotting wood.
“Brin,” the countess said crisply, pivoting on her heel to regard the troll. “Why don’t you lead the way?”
Mazarine snorted, but moved to the head of the line, passing my father with a polite nod.
“Do you need fire?” he asked, but she didn’t answer.
She stepped into the darkness of the passage and vanished, and we waited, uncertain.
“Should we follow her?” Nura whispered from behind me.
No sooner did she speak the words than fire bloomed in the passage. Torches bracketed on both walls ignited one by one.
We followed Mazarine’s path. I could feel the heaviness in the air—cold, quiet, sentient air. The floor beneath our boots was swept clean, set with stone. The walls on either side were recessed and carved with moons and suns and people. Relics of the duchy that had once dwelled here.
This place felt like a tomb.
The passage opened up into a vast, cavernous chamber. From the faint reach of the firelight, I could see wagons full of cobwebs and crate upon crate, stacked in clusters. A storeroom of sorts, or once a place of trade, and it felt vast, endless. I stayed nearby the Vespers, but my eyes roamed my surroundings with its high ceilings that melted into darkness and the stone pillars that stood like trees. I kept waiting to come across skeletons, thinking it must have been pandemonium when the curse unfolded here.
“Ah, here is the lift.” The countess’s voice broke the heavy silence.
Mazarine had already located it. The troll stood beside a sleek platform of wood, its railings made of iron; she studied its pulley and gears. Lanterns burned at the four corners of the lift, granting light to see. “It is still functional.”
My father joined Mazarine’s side, examining the lift’s operation. “Yes, it looks just as we left it, all those years ago. It hasn’t aged a day.”
“Enchanted,” Olivette whispered in awe.
“Cursed,” Nura added.
Mazarine glanced up from the lift to study us, her eyes catching the firelight like those of a cat. “Ambrose was brave enough to lead us to the doors. I took it upon myself to lead us into the passage. Now it is your turn, Lady Raven of Amarys, to be the first to take the lift.”
I watched a shadow dart across the countess’s face as she frowned, but then she seemed to have a change of heart and smiled.
“Of course, Mazarine. My family and I will be the first to return to the fortress. It is only fair. Come, Lennox and Phelan. And you too, Anna.”
I followed them onto the lift. I remained near the railing, but my palms were slick with perspiration as I imagined being toted upward, into the darkness and unknown, on this piece of shaky wood.
The duke stepped forward to unexpectedly join us. “I will ascend with you, Lady Raven,” he announced gallantly.
“How kind of you, Your Grace,” the countess replied, but I heard the twist in her words. She didn’t want the duke to accompany us.
“Are we ready?” Mazarine drawled.
The countess nodded.
The troll shifted a lever and the lift began to groan and shake. The chains tightened and rotated through a great wheel, and up we went.
I held on to the railing and looked down at my parents and Imonie.
They were staring at me, worry and fear drawn in their faces. I was being carried away from them, out of sight, and I felt a twinge of anxiousness.
I glanced away from them first, casting my eyes up to the darkness and the unknown.
It was a slow but steady rise.
We began to pass by different stone landings, silent and shadowed, but the lift did not stop. We continued to inch upward, the chains ticking like a heartbeat, and I knew we were in the fortress, surpassing the lower floors. No one spoke, but I sensed the duke watching me. I ignored him, and kept my eyes on the wall of stone, waiting for us to reach our destination. The darkness was gradually fading around us, as if we were ascending from night into day.
The lift jerked to a halt and I stumbled backward into Phelan. He grasped hold of my arm, steadying me, and he didn’t let go until the countess took the first step off the lift, onto the highest landing of the fortress.
Sunshine streamed in through skylights in the ceiling. The floors were set with stone, smooth and polished and accented with small blue jewels. The landing opened up into a wide chamber that broke off into four different corridors.
We stood in the sunshine and drifting dust motes, staring at each of the passages, and behind us I could hear the lift beginning to lower with a loud clang.
“Mazarine has inadvertently given us an advantage,” said the countess. “We should explore before the others arrive. See if we can locate Emrys.” She glanced at me. “Anna, you will go with Phelan. His Grace and Lennox will come with me.”
“Should I not accompany Anna and Phelan,” the duke dared to say, “since you and I are familiar with these passages, and they are not?”