Page 69 of The Mad King and the False Queen

“The perpetrator we apprehended today…is dead.”

“What?” Claude’s fists clenched. He pointed at one guard, “Find Martine to escort Dagmara back to her room. You,” he pointed at the next guard, “stay with her until Martine arrives. Coroner, with me.”

With that, Claude was exiting the greenhouse without so much as a glance in Dagmara’s direction. The guards obeyed instantly, one hovering near Dagmara as though his life depended on it, the other rushing to find Martine.

Stepping out into the courtyard, Dagmara watched Claude and the Coroner walk toward the exit, both in furious discussion. She wanted to ask to stay with them, to hear what happened, but she knew her place.

“How did he die?” Claude asked, his voice as emboldened as his strides.

Just before they exited, Dagmara heard the Coroner’s response. It seemed like a strange response, seeing as the servant was brought to the castle jail. Maybe she misinterpreted the words, or had the Ilusaurian verbiage wrong. But she could have sworn she heard him say, “He seems to have drowned.”

CHAPTER 26

Dagmara

After hearing the truth about Ilusauri’s deterioration, Dagmara knew she had to warn Queen Bernadette. Dagmara had to get to the Ilusaurian Scribestone somehow. Luckily, she was already in the royal wing, standing outside the greenhouse with the guard Claude assigned to her. This was the perfect moment to sneak off to the Scribestone.

Also, she wanted to ensure Magda had arrived in Flaustra safely. Magda had promised to send a message, but Dagmara hadn’t had the opportunity to check.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt the vial of bilans she had grabbed while packing for their abrupt departure. She eyed the guard, but he seemed to purposely be watching the doors instead of her.

Turning away from him, she quickly withdrew the vial, dumping it into the palm of her gloved hand before hiding the vial back in the depths of her pocket. Rubbing her satin gloves together, she knew she had to be fast before the potion began seeping through the fabric.

“Excuse me,” Dagmara said, lifting the pitch of her voice to sound innocent. She approached the guard and held out her palms. “I’m overheating, and these gloves are too slippery for me to take off. Can you help?”

The guard’s nose twitched, a single question crossing his expression in the blink of an eye. “Martine can help when she gets here.”

“I can’t possibly wait that long,” she persisted. “I wouldn’t want to faint on your watch.”

With that statement, he conceded. “Yes, guardian,” he said before reaching out and removing her gloves with his bare hands. He did so carefully, as if attempting not to hold her hand at all. As soon as he had one off, he put it in the crook of his elbow, and then slowly began removing the next. Once the second one was removed, his expression changed after seeing the scar on her palm, but before he could ask about it, he stumbled slightly.

“Sorry, Princess, I think I’m lightheaded as well.”

“Shall we sit?” Dagmara started for the bench before he had the chance to hand her back the gloves soaked in poison.

A loud thud echoed through the room as the guard dropped to the ground.

Maybe she had used a little too much in her haste.

She squatted beside him, using the fabric of her skirt as a barrier to pick up the gloves and deposit them into a nearby flower arrangement. They disappeared into the colorful array. Luckily, if the flowers were truly a projection of Claude’s mind magic, the bilans wouldn’t affect them. As long as no one saw the wound on her palm, questioning why she hadn’t healed it as a Life Guardian, she would be fine.

Racing out of the courtyard, yet trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, she stopped a maid passing through the corridor. “Martine asked me to meet her by the Scribestone. Do you know where that is?”

The maid’s face paled, clearly shocked that Dagmara was even speaking to her. “In the royal library, Princess,” she said before gesturing to a stunning silver door.

“Thank you,” Dagmara said before any more questions were asked. Luckily, she saw no one else in sight. She dashed to the library entrance and let herself in.

Shock rippled through her entire body at the grandeur of the space. The carpet was a patterned silver, and black banners hung from the rafters with the Ilusaurian crest. Bookshelves were stacked on either side, extending two stories tall. A few spiral staircases were spread throughout the space. The entire ceiling was a glass dome, allowing a pristine view of the starry night sky. The moon was aglow, so large that Dagmara questioned if this too was an illusion, or if the sky was really that beautiful.

On the other side of the library, across the entire stretch of the center alley, she saw a raised platform. It contained a different shade of bookshelves, spaced between floor to ceiling windows with silver curtains. In the center of the platform was a glass case with a silver book, resting on a circular table.

Dagmara raced forward, hearing her boots against the carpeted floor. There was seemingly no one else here, giving her the perfect opportunity.

Skipping up the stairs to the platform, she slid to a halt in front of the glass case. The book, glowing with magic, was the Ilusaurian Scribestone. She pressed her palms to the glass to slide it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Examining the case more meticulously, she spotted a keyhole.

The Scribestone was locked.

“You need this to use it.” A voice echoed through the room.

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