Page 116 of Once the Skies Fade

I was from Emeryn. Not only that, but I had close ties to the Emeryn royals. Was that why Brennan was killed? Because of the alliance? But the alliance was intended to help both our nations stave off potential war. Who in Arenysen could be against such an arrangement?

Someone who wanted to rule.

Shit.

It had to be the Assembly. Had they killed Brennan to sever the alliance?

It was more than possible, but I needed more than mere speculation.

I took off down the passage, spurred on by this fresh trail to follow, reminding myself that this didn’t clear Calla of any guilt. She could have been working with the Assembly. She could have arranged for her parents’ deaths and then Brennan’s.

Just the thought turned my stomach. Every interaction I’d had with her—every moment, and not just the intimate ones—pointed to her innocence, but I’d be a fool to let my feelings for her cloud my judgment.

Fuck, did I truly have feelings for her?

I shook my head and pressed on. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Until I cleared her name—until I could prove she didn’t kill Brennan—whatever feelings I’d stupidly developed for her were moot.

It took an embarrassingly long time for me to finally find where the passage led down to the lower levels. It didn’t follow the main stairwell as I had hoped, and I’d had to backtrack several times and try different paths before discovering a set of narrow ladders leading in both directions. For a moment I peered uptoward the dark opening that lead to the upper floors, wondering if Calla’s suite lay above my head somewhere. My muscles itched to climb the rungs to see, to check on her, but with how she had fled from my room last night, she probably didn’t want to see me.

No, she’d come to me when she was ready.

And if she doesn’t?

I shook my head.

Then it is what it is.

But now, I need to focus.

As quickly as I could––while precariously carrying the lantern in one hand––I slipped down the ladder, one level and then another and another, noting how the air chilled as I descended. Here there were no alcoves along the narrow passage, but in the distance came the faint sounds of chatter mixed with the dull clanks of metal and wood. I crept forward, following the noise. My stomach grumbled when the comforting aroma of braised meat and baking bread drifted toward me.

If the kitchens were that way, then the infirmary would be in the opposite corner to the left. Spinning around, I pushed forward, keeping my steps quiet as I continued. Around two corners and down one long stretch of darkness—the scents and sounds of the kitchen lessening with each step—I walked, trying to ignore the ache of my feet. The corridor then split, one path angling up, gradually rising. Leading to the outside perhaps? To the forest?

I shuddered slightly at the memory of the creeping vines and deadly trees.

The other path, unlike any other I’d traversed so far, had a dim light glowing at the end. Lowering the flame in my own lantern, I set it on the floor before slowly moving on. A crevice the same size as the one in my room was cut into the stone wall, but instead of being covered by a tapestry, it appeared tobe hidden behind a large piece of furniture that stood just far enough away from the wall to allow me to step into the room.

I immediately recognized the scent of healing herbs and cleaning solution.

I was back in the infirmary.

Carefully, I shifted to the edge of the shelving and peered around it, releasing a heavy breath at finding the room empty. The lanterns—several placed throughout the space—burned low, giving it an eerie quality that tightened my stomach. I just needed to find their records, discover something—anything—that would support the queen’s innocence, and get out.

What if she’s guilty though?

Then I’ll do what I have to, what I swore I’d do.

My job was to find the truth and act on it. I couldn’t let any bias keep me from accepting whatever it might be.

On the desk in front of me, a short stack of papers crowded one side. With one final check that I was alone, I rushed forward and quickly searched through the pile. Records for Korben from when I’d brought him in unconscious lay on top, followed by an order signed by the queen and her general for the release of Oryn, complete with authorization to have him transported home to Emeryn. Below that were a few pages signed by each of the healers dictating all they’d done to aid me after I’d barely survived the first trial. There was nothing after that of any significance, only some receipts for healing supplies and a handful of memos from the other healers stationed throughout the kingdom. The rest of the desk was clear, aside from a pad of blank paper and a few ink pens laid neatly in the center.

Squatting low, I hid myself behind the desk and pulled open the top drawer—nothing but wax seals and unused envelopes. The drawer below it held several sachets of tea, spoons, and napkins. Boring and not in the least bit helpful. I was about toopen the final drawer when the soft pad of footsteps hit my ears, slowly growing louder.

Shit.

Sprinting back to the cover of the shelf, I slipped into the crevice in the wall and focused on slowing my breathing and calming my pulse. Hopefully the heavy scents crowding the air would mask my presence well enough.

I held my breath as they entered the room—two sets of feet, two heartbeats—one of them speaking heatedly.

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