They had to wait until the stairs were clear, and as they crept from their hiding place, Kaddie feared one of the guards below would look up and see them. She tried not to think about it. Ahead of them, Harrow’s voice was ringing out, warming to its subject of threats and promises regarding what would happen if his wishes were not carried out.

  They reached the junction. “Ready?” Glen said.

  They set off in a flat-out run. Back along the tunnels, back to the palace. The stench outside the dungeon, the absolute darkness that preempted the cells, the climb up endless servants’ stairs and dashing across the palace’s corridors under the threat of discovery, all of it was terrifying until they reached Torrell’s room faster than she thought.

  The door was slightly ajar. Glen crouched alongside the door handle in order to examine the lock. After a moment, he frowned.

  “What? She hissed.

  “Nothing. Find somewhere we can hide.”

  Entering swiftly, she examined her surroundings and saw a bed, a chair, and a desk. There were curtains at the window that reached the floor. Other than that, she saw nothing suitable.

  “Curtains,” she whispered.

  “That’s it?”

  Unless you want to crawl under the bed with the chamber pot.”

  “It might come to that. Quickly, I hear voices.”

  “What about the lock?”

  “Tricky. Now, move.”

  They ran to the window. The curtains were open. Kaddie took the left side and hid behind a length of thick, faded brocade. Glancing over her shoulder, through the window she could see the palace main gate and beyond it, the broad, tree-lined avenue that led to the square. She imagined reaching it and dashing around the corner. Just a short distance and they would reach the dispensary and be safe. It seemed perfectly attainable, and yet impossible.

  The door handle rattled. Kaddie froze. She heard a voice that became louder and more recognizable as its owner entered the room. It was Mr. Tenadas.

  “Bring him in, quickly.”

  Sweat trickled between Kaddie’s shoulder blades, while Glen was giving her an odd look from behind the opposite curtain, one that suggested he also knew Tenadas. She considered they were doomed.

  “Leave us.”

  She heard the door closing, and Torrell expressing a tortured sigh. The rustling of papers followed, from the desk that was too close to the window for comfort.

  “Tell me, Torrell, are you stupid?”

  “I try not to be.”

  “A word of advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Give it to them. The translation. Just hand it over, walk away, and ignore anything that fool Robles has told you.”

  “He doesn’t know. About the translation, I mean.”

  “So he really was here earlier, assuring himself of your safety, and not attempting to protect his assets?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “No, you probably don’t.” Tenadas grunted with exasperation. The papers were reshuffled and laid to rest. “Just think about what I said.”

  Footsteps. The door opened, then closed. The lock turned with a loud click. It was followed by another sigh from Torrell, this one softer and laced with despair.

  Kaddie glanced at Glen, who gave her a nod. She pushed back the curtain, and at first he didn’t see her. He was leaning forward, his head in his hands, and it wasn’t until Glen swept his curtain aside and dashed toward the door that he looked up.

  “Are you hurt?” she demanded.

  “What?” He stared at her. “Where did you come from?”

  This close, she got a good look at his face. He looked as if he’d been punched, or stung by a particularly nasty insect. “We’re here to rescue you, you fool.”

  “But—”

  “Grab your papers. We’re leaving.”

  Torrell gave her an entirely familiar look, one that said she was crazy. Meanwhile, Glen was crouching by the door and gesticulating wildly for silence.

  Kaddie crept close until she could hear the sound of muffled voices. Thankfully, they quickly faded.

  Glen immediately brought out her sickle and slid the blade between the door and its frame. Kaddie expected Torrell to be busy, gathering his belongings. Instead, he was standing at the desk, staring at the pile of papers.

  Figuring he was befuddled with shock, she hurried over and began collecting his smudged drawings and scripts.

  “No,” he whispered, huskily. “Leave it. I’ll explain later.”

  Glen had somehow managed to pop the lock and was beckoning. Kaddie dropped the sheaf of papers on the desk. There was something about this she didn’t quite understand. Surely, he wasn’t about to do as Tenadas had advised? But this was hardly the time to demand an explanation. Later perhaps, when they were back in the dispensary kitchen. All they had to do now was slip outside, return the way they came, and all this would be over.

  “Clear,” Glen hissed. He held the door while Kaddie and Torrell dashed into the corridor.

  Her first thought, it was darker out here than she remembered. The ceiling was lower, the walls narrower. One of the lanterns had gone out, or perhaps it was no different than before and her foreboding was simply painting a darker picture.

  The servants’ door lay ahead to the left. Painted to look like the wall, its latch and hinges were skillfully recessed and effectively hidden, and they had to wait until Glen pushed aside a small panel and clicked open the door.

  “Quickly.” She gave the bewildered Torrell a push into the servants’ stairwell. Light danced briefly at the end of the corridor, revealing faces. “They’re coming,” she hissed.

  Glen was already part way down the steps. “Crone’s teeth, how many?”

  “Two, I think.”

  Torrell was slowing down. “Maybe if I explained.”

  “No.” She pushed him onward.

  “Kaddie—”

  Glen had reached the bottom of the stairwell. “Come on. We need to hurry!”

  Above them, the door burst open. Torrell stopped glaring at her and ran, with Kaddie hard on his heels. Their feet clattered noisily on the steps. All attempts at stealth were forgotten. She rummaged in her pockets, the fingers of her right hand alighting on the bundle of glass vials wrapped in a linen handkerchief. And as they burst through a door and dashed across a wide, carpeted hallway, she extracted one of the vials and kept it cradled in her fingers.

  The two men giving pursuit were now hard on their heels. One of them was holding a knife, inspiring her to keep running across the hall, through another door, and onto the stone-floored corridor that led to the kitchen and the dungeon. She could feel the heat from the kitchen’s hearth and hear the sound of voices. Would they be better off if they ran in that direction?

  If Groach was there, maybe he could help them. But it was too late. Glen and Torrell were already descending the stairs that led to the dungeon so she had no choice but to follow.

  The vial in her hand felt warm. Something tugged at the hood of her coat. It was immediately followed by a curse. One of the men had almost caught her. She flew down the stairwell after her companions. But it was too late. Two steps to go, a hand grabbed the collar of her coat, and she fell backward onto the steps. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Kaddie managed to wriggle free and descend the two remaining steps. But she was off balance, disoriented.

  The man who grabbed her spun her around, just as she brought up her right hand. “Going somewhere?” He held a long-bladed knife.

  She saw its serrated edge coming for her face. With a yell she smashed her right hand against her assailant’s jaw. The vial it held broke against his teeth. Simultaneously his knife pushed into the flesh of her left cheek. The pain caught her by surprise. She gasped, and dropped at his feet.

  He began screaming. “I’ll cut you up, witch. I’ll cut you up!”

  Hands were now at her shoulders, grabbing and pulling. The air reeked of citrus and caught in the back of her throat.

  Glen’s voice. “Crone’s tits!”

  “Don’t breathe,” she began. “Don’t—” But her face was burning and she couldn’t see.

  “Run,” she heard Torrell say. “One of them is still coming.”

  “Left pocket,” she managed.

  “What?” Torrell’s fingers were digging into her ribs, trying to keep her upright as they made their escape.

  “Left pocket! Throw it, you fool!” But it was too late. Her mouth refused to work, and her head was full of screaming pain and blinding light.