Thirty
The feeding halls were pitch-black. Scarlet paused to listen for footsteps or voices, but there was nothing but the m.u.f.fled chatter of birds they’d left behind. The smell reminded her of the farm, a heady combination of feed and hay and manure. She oriented herself. Going right would lead her farther into the menagerie, but left might land them back in the palace—hopefully in some sort of servants’ quarters. With one hand on the wall, she grabbed Winter’s wrist and took off. Her fingers skimmed over closed doors and she used what she knew of the menagerie to count them. This must be the stag. This could be the snow leopard. Is this is the arctic fox?
They turned a corner and a blinking light caught her eye—hazy and distant. She headed toward it and found a control panel embedded in the wall, where one could control the menagerie’s lights and temperature and automatic feeders.
Beside the panel, barely seen in its faint light, was a door.
She pressed the unlock mechanism, hoping beyond hope that this door didn’t lead to the lion. Nothing happened.
Cursing, Scarlet pressed the unlock mechanism again. Nothing.
Then the control panel pinged, startling her, and a message scrolled across the top.
BE CAREFUL, SCARLET.
Her jaw fell. “What—?”
Before she could question it, she heard the door unlock. Trembling, she reached for the handle. The door slid open.
She flinched at the onslaught of light and pulled Winter against the wall, but a glance told her this well-lit hallway was equally desolate. Narrow and plain. If Scarlet had to guess what a servants’ hall looked like, this would be it.
She listened and heard nothing.
She looked up and her heart jumped.
A camera was rotating on the ceiling, scanning the hallway, back and forth. But no sooner had Scarlet spotted it than it froze. Its power light dimmed and went out. Startled, Scarlet leaned farther into the hallway and saw a second camera some fifty paces away just as it, too, shut off.
What had Jacin said? Something about handling the security?
But … how?
Fumbling for Winter’s elbow, Scarlet dragged her into the hallway. “Do you know where we are?”
“Near the guest wing.”
Well, that was something. At least Scarlet didn’t have to worry about them starting out hopelessly lost.
“We’re trying to get to Artemisia Port E. You know where that is, right?”
“E…,” murmured Winter. “E for execution. Earth. Evret. Emperor.” She pondered a moment longer. “E for escape.”
Scarlet groaned. “E for unhelpful.”
“No, that does not work.”
Scarlet spun on her and the princess came to a hasty stop. The back of her skirt was dark with blood, and smears of it covered her arms, her legs, even her face. In fact …
Looking down, Scarlet saw that she had a fair amount of it on herself, as well. This would not help to make them inconspicuous.
“The docks, Winter,” she said, glowering at the princess. “Do you know where they are or not?”
The princess scrunched up her face and pressed her bloodied palms against her cheeks and for a moment Scarlet thought she was going to cry.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her breaths shortened, her shoulders beginning to quake.
“Princess,” warned Scarlet.
“I think so. The docks … yes, the docks. With the mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?”
“And the shadows that dance. Port E. E for escape.”
“Yeah, E for escape.” Scarlet could feel her hope slipping through her fingers. There was no way this was going to work. “How do we get there?”
“We take the rail. To the edge of the city.”
“The rail. All right. How do we get there?”
“Down, down, down we go.”
Scarlet could feel her patience unraveling. “And how do we go down?”
Winter shook her head, apology swimming in her amber eyes. Scarlet would have wanted to hug her if she hadn’t simultaneously wanted to strangle her.
“Fine. I’ll figure it out. Come on.” She took off down the hallway, hoping they would stumble across a flight of stairs or an elevator. Servants had to get around quickly, didn’t they? Surely they would find—
She rounded a corner and screeched, nearly colliding with a girl, a maid who couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old. Winter crashed into Scarlet and she grasped the princess’s arm, adrenaline thundering in her ears. The maid stared at Scarlet for a heartbeat, then at the princess, covered in blood, then dropped into a nervous curtsy, clutching the linens in her arms.
“Y-your Highness,” she stammered.
Clenching her teeth, Scarlet grabbed the knife out of the scabbard and lunged for the girl, pinning her against the wall with the blade against her throat.
The girl squeaked. The linens tumbled around their feet.
“We need to get to the rail that will take us to the docks. Quickest way there. Now.”
The girl started to shake, her eyes round.
“Do not be afraid,” said Winter, her voice singsong and delicate. “She will not hurt you.”
“Like h.e.l.l I won’t. How do we get to the docks?”
The girl raised a finger. “D-down this hallway, to the right. The stairs go down to the sh-shuttle platform.”
Pulling away, Scarlet grabbed a white tablecloth from the fallen stack and ushered Winter down the hall without looking back.
The corridor ended in a T. Scarlet turned right and found an alcove that dropped into a bright stairwell. Once the door had shut behind them, Scarlet shook out the tablecloth and draped it around Winter, doing her best to knot it into something that resembled a cloak, hiding the blood and the princess’s recognizable beauty. Deeming her work pa.s.sable, she grabbed Winter’s hand and headed down the steps. As they reached the second landing, the walls changed to rough gray-brown stone. They were underground, in the sublevels of the palace.