I pressed the stone raven, and held my breath as something unlatched.
With one last look back at the soldiers, I pressed against the mirror and felt it move, sliding silently into a dark space. I inched it open as slowly as possible so I wouldn't make a noise, my heart in my throat.
Then, I slipped into a cold, dark passage. Once inside, I closed the door behind me. I let out a long breath and knocked against the wall, giving silent thanks to the Raven King for the second time that night.
Because I believed in ghosts, and I felt like his spirit had led me in here, somehow.
In the armory, the soldiers’ voices were rising to frantic shouts. I felt around in the dark, wishing I still had that candle.
I felt only a dank sludge covering the walls. When I turned and took a tentative step, I realized stairs were rising up before me. So I pressed my hands to either side of the slimy walls for balance, and started to climb. Eventually, the sounds of the soldiers started to fade, and my heart rate slowed down.
No idea where this passage led, but it was away from the immediate threat.
As I walked, occasionally, my hand would slide against wood, as if doors or passages interrupted the walls.
As I went further up the stairs, slivers of firelight shone through tiny cracks in the rocks and the stone.
With sore legs, I climbed the stairs until I reached what I thought was the top floor. Now what?
Up here, a hall branched off from the landing. I felt my way around, following the tiny beams of light piercing the stone. I stopped to look through one of the cracks. It appeared to be a ballroom, long disused. A ray of silver light had broken through the clouds, and beamed through great windows towering over columns and a flagstone floor.
When I got to a brightly lit room, I peered inside to find great tapestries hanging on the wall, embroidered with colorful thread, flecked with gold. They depicted men and women in lewd poses, with deep sapphire blues depicting the sky and the phases of the moon.
As I stared at the room, a flicker of movement caught my eye, and I realized it was Sourial, rising from the bed. Shirtless, he strolled over to the piano and sat down and began to play. Mournful music wended through the castle—beautiful and agonizingly sad. I felt like my heart was breaking just listening to it, and Alice came into my mind again. Alice standing in an old church ruin near the castle, the grass up to her knees, and butterflies fluttering around her.
I wanted to keep listening, but I had to keep going until I found a way back to my room.
I moved farther down the hall, until I saw another bright ray of light slanting through the stone. I peeked through, finding a great hall that looked like it was carved out of bone. I couldn’t see much from here, just walls of ivory, and a flagstone floor dappled with moonlight that streamed in through windows. When I pressed my hands against the wall, I felt the power of the Blessed Raven pulsing through it. Here, I felt connected to something larger—a sense of timelessness that flowed from the hall.
But it wasn’t my room, and that was where I had to be.
Reluctantly, I pulled my hands away to keep walking.
Another ray of light. There, I caught a glimpse of stacks of books.
The sound of a door creaking interrupted my thoughts, then footsteps.
I held my breath as Samael walked into my view, prowling into the library with his cowl over his head. He was almost feral in his precision and speed. Was he there when she died in the Tower of Bones? The destroying angel, Death Incarnate.
I had to be prepared to seduce him, so I could kill him if I had to. For the good of Albia.
Tomorrow, the count wanted to spy on the Free Men. I didn’t know anything about them—only that they called themselves patriots, and at least some of them were rich. But if Finn was involved, I wanted to get a warning to them first.
I felt around in the passage and found a wooden door to my right. I was half tempted to burst in there, to hold my dagger to his throat and demand answers. What happened to Alice? Did he kill the servants?
But this wasn’t the best course of action. I’d never be able to seduce him if he knew I wanted him dead.
I stared as Samael pulled off his cloak. The view of his perfect face made me catch my breath, and somehow made me hate him more. It was like his divine features, and those large pale eyes, only made him seem more lethal. The sharp, high cheekbones, the square jaw.
He was dressed in expensive clothing that showed off his body. And when he unbuttoned his shirt, I found my nails piercing my palms. The torchlight in the room wavered over a powerful warrior's chest, thickly corded with muscle. In the warm light, his hair gleamed auburn, skin gold.
Raven King, give me strength.
He started pacing the room, one hand over his jaw. Then his head turned sharply to the place where I stood, gray eyes gleaming, ice cold. With a predatory gait, he stalked over, like he was looking at me right through the stone—like he was going to tear down the wall between us.
I held my breath as he pressed his hands against the wall, staring at me. Not meant for mortal eyes …
There was no way he could actually see me in here, in the dark, was there?
I stared back at the cold perfection of his face. High, broad cheekbones. Forlorn gray eyes framed by midnight lashes. Angel of Death. My entire body went cold and hot at the same time, heart slamming hard against my ribs. His unearthly beauty made me want to fall to my knees, to worship him.
I pulled myself away from his gaze, and crept on through the darkness.
As I walked, I checked every fleck of light, every crack in the wall until I finally found my room. And to the right of the cracks in the wall was a wooden door. When I turned the knob and opened it, I found that it led into the wardrobe—which was now open, with all the clothes pulled out, strewn on the stone floor.
I hadn’t left it that way.
I crawled through the wardrobe, shutting the secret passage behind me.
The entire room had been ransacked. Clothes on the floor, sheets pulled off, tablecloth in disarray. An unopened bottle of wine lay on the floor.
I’d have to come up with some explanation for where the fuck I’d been while I wasn’t in here. Slowly, my mind started to form a plan. Pretending to be an idiot had gotten me out of many difficult situations in the past. No reason why it should fail me now.
I snatched the wine off the ground and uncorked it. I drank as much as I could stomach, chugging it down. Then, I went back through the wardrobe. In the dark passage, I dumped more wine onto the floor, leaving only a tiny amount. I crossed back into the room.
Although soldiers had pulled off most of the blankets, I doubted they’d checked that little crevice between the bed and the wall. The one where perhaps I nearly suffocated in a drunken stupor.
I poured a little bit of the wine on myself for extra realism, then I stumbled toward the door, getting into character already. When I flung it open, I found twelve soldiers standing before it.
All of them drew their swords.
I rubbed my eyes, blinking innocently at them. "What's all the fuss about, then?" I swayed on my feet, drinking the last dregs of the wine. “I tell you what, I woke up with the most lethal headache. The two guards you lot stationed out here got me proper pissed on wine. Fell half off my bed, stuck between the mattress and the wall. Ridiculous.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Still feel a bit nauseous.” I made the most revolting retching sound possible, and watched out of the corner of my eye as the soldiers started to back away.