Page 115 of Once the Skies Fade

The mission remained, though.

Regardless of what may or may not have been happening between the queen and me, even with the blood vow I’d made, my duty—my loyalty—was to the Durands first and foremost. I would do what needed to be done for the good of my kingdom and for the peace of my friend, even if it meant killing this female.

I just needed to keep myself focused on the reason I was here.

And it was not to fuck the queen.

Having fun was fine, unless it put the mission at risk––and whatever had changed between us tonight was an undeniable risk.

They postponed the next trial until after the citizens’ forum, which left me with altogether too much time with my own thoughts—traitorous, mutinous thoughts that insisted on returning to the queen no matter how hard I tried to stop them. What the fuck had she done to me? Never before had I felt such a loathsome emptiness after bedding someone.

Growling, I pushed to my feet for the hundredth time that morning and began pacing. I needed to do something, anything, aside from sitting here wallowing. I was no closer to knowing if she’d killed Brennan or not, but who could I speak to? Where could I look?

What did I already know?

First, Connor had received word from the healers that Brennan had been poisoned.

But Hilde worked closely with the healers and claimed they had ruled out poison, pointing instead to suffocation.

The healers refused to speak on the matter, understandably so, and Graham had been little help except to confirm there were no visible wounds, which could indicate poison—or not. He was obviously too afraid—even as Calla’s former advisor—to say anything to implicate her and wouldn’t be of any more help.

Maybe I could try the healers again, or find something helpful in the infirmary. They must have kept records or files on Brennan’s death. But how could I get in there without them seeing me?

It’s too bad I don’t have shadows to hide in.

That thought snapped my eyes to the far wall where I’d first noticed Calla hiding in my room. How had she gotten in here? She probably had a master key to every room in her castle, but something nagged at me. That night, she’d looked back at this wall, as if contemplating something. Hastily, I rushed across the room and examined the tapestry, running my hands gingerly over its soft surface and curling my fingers around its edge. The palace in Emeryn had its own secret gates and passages, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this castle did as well.

But when I pulled the fabric back, all I found was the same stone that made up every other wall. Shoving aside my initial disappointment, I lifted the fabric higher. There. Behind the middle of the tapestry, roughly half a meter up from the floor, lay a sizable gap in the stones. I rushed back into my bedroom, grabbed a lantern from the side table, and returned, holding it up to the dark crevice. Sure enough, past the opening lay a narrow passageway.

Wherever this led, taking it would prove far more fun—and hopefully more productive—than moping about in my room.

I stepped over the short wall of stones and plunged into the cramped space, holding the lantern out in front of me. My foot knocked into something, sending it toppling over with a loud clank against the hard floor. Peering down, I noted a small lantern similar to the one I held and smiled at the memory of Calla sneaking into my room.

Shit, I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of her. At least not fondly, anyway.

Forcing myself to focus, I pushed on ahead, navigating the passage and visualizing where I was in the castle as I went. At the first intersection, I turned right, confident this would take me to the stairwell, where hopefully the tunnel would follow it down to the lower floors. On either side of the passage at irregularintervals lay alcoves for hidden entrances into other rooms. I checked the first few, but finding nothing of interest, I gave up investigating the others.

Until, halfway down the passage parallel to my hallway, muffled voices caught my attention and pulled me back to the alcove I had just passed. Creeping into the tight space, I craned my neck, pushing my ear closer to the entrance, careful to keep the lantern back in case they might be able to see the light somehow.

“You were supposed to kill him,” a male’s voice growled, familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“No shit,” responded another, this one easily identifiable—Korben. “It’s not for lack of trying.”

“He cannot win this tournament.”

“So I’ve been told,” Korben groaned. “Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re the only one with a viable reason to want him dead, or have you forgotten how your friend died at the Emeryn palace?”

“It’s a tournament to the death; that should be reason enough for any of us.”

“Just get it done, or you might be next to have a tragic accident in these games.”

Heavy footsteps stomped away, and I jumped when glass crashed violently against the wall nearby. Hurriedly I backed out of the alcove and resumed my trek onward.

So someone had hired Korben to kill me, but who? The Assembly? That made the most sense, honestly. They seemed all-too-eager to get Calla off the throne, and short of that, no doubt they’d want some say in whoever sat beside her as king. But what threat did I pose specifically?

I stopped in my tracks as a thought struck me.

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