Page 38 of Seven Ways to Kill a King
She shrugged. “I’ve gotten as far as I can, but the laces will need tightening in the back.”
He gestured for her to spin as she muttered that she should have chosen a better gown, and Cass was suddenly behind her, his clever fingers on the laces and his breath on the back of her neck. Miri swallowed.
He tugged each row tighter then paused. “I’ve never—I don’t know how tight these should be.”
Miri looked down at her chest, where it swelled perilously from the bodice. “Tighter, I’m afraid.” She raised her arms, testing to be certain she would be free to climb and move. “But not much.”
The bodice was black cambric, embroidered with delicate vines. The skirt was black as well, traditional in style and entirely ordinary. She appeared to be a lady of no real stature who would serve at the beck of Edwin’s queen. A lady on her way to mass warranted no attention.
Miri turned to face her guard.
Cass dutifully did not look at her chest. “Do you have your blades?”
She nodded. “Three. Two within easy reach.”
“And the vial?”
Miri carefully patted the small pouch hidden beneath folds of material at her waist.
“And your courage?”
She smiled. “I’m unable to leave it, though I might like to.”
Cass’s gaze stayed on her a moment too long. “Then we should go.”
Chapter 22
As they stood in the shadows of the chapel, the only light was the flicker of far-off torches and lanterns. Miri looked up the tall tower of the castle. Its stone was tinted blue by a scant bit of moon through the clouds. She would part with Cass, climb that tower, and kill the next king.
Miri turned to her guard in the darkness. His eyes were on her face as she drew the cloak from around her shoulders. She handed it to him wordlessly, unable to say goodbye.
“We’ll need to dye your hair soon. It’s getting lighter. On our way to Ravensgate.”
It was a promise that she would make it and they would escape with their lives. She nodded. “On our way to Ravensgate.”
Miri hoped it was true.
She said no more as she slid into the shadows, her slippered feet silent on the path. It would not be a maze to find Edwin’s rooms. There was only one way: up. She entered through the postern gate, her hands carefully positioned in front of her waist, fingers clasped together. She kept her gaze on the smooth stones beneath her, moving with purpose through the quiet corridors. The whispered swish of her skirts echoed through the hall, barely audible as she turned toward an inner castle wall. Kingsmen were posted at a wide arch across the small courtyard, their shoulders straight but their eyes on the darkness before them, not behind—not where Miri was.
She unclasped her dusty hands, grateful for the lack of rain or dew and that the stone was dry as she wrapped strips of cloth tightly around her palms. Miri wasn’t certain she would have managed the wait if weather had impeded her plans. She tied her skirts back as well as possible and gripped a wood beam then a carved corbel. Her feet slipped into the narrow cracks of stone as she pushed herself up. The construction curved outward, so if Miri fell, it would be to the flat stone covering the earth, not the rough pieces she was crawling over. It was why she’d had to dress as a lady and why there would be no return using the same route. After her task was complete, she would have to descend the tower while the ladies made their way to the chapel under the cover of early morning, but her disguise was not foolproof. She couldn’t pass for a lady in the light of day, not when all eyes were upon them as they returned to the queen’s rooms, so the way up had to be in the dark of night, through the second-level window.
Miri’s fingers slid from the gritty stone, and she slipped. Her elbow slammed against the side of a support before she caught herself, black dress pressed against the shadows as she waited to discover if the guards had heard. When her breath returned, she raised a hand toward the carvings beneath an oriel window and drew herself up and over the ledge. Her arms trembled with the strain, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse on the floor inside.
A hideous tearing sound came as Miri’s skirt caught on the edge of a carving, and she was suddenly jerked to a stop—stuck between the frame of the window and the ledge outside. Her eyes snapped to the space above her, her heart skipping with fear that someone might have heard, but she couldn’t let go to free the material. She was caught, every measure she tried to shift stolen by a determined snag. She felt without warning more hopeless than when the guard at Kirkwall had touched her with his sword. She couldn’t go backward, or she would fall. She was trapped, snared by a foe she could not fight or stab. Gods, she felt hot tears welling in her eyes.
It was not how she would die. Miri gritted her teeth and drew herself forward with all of the strength in her arms. The material ripped loudly, but with a finality that let her fall over the ledge inside. She panted, fingers trembling as she jerked the frayed threads free, then with more horror, she checked her pouch to be certain she’d not lost her vial. It was there, so she scurried into a nearby alcove to sort the torn bits of her dress into reasonable order. She pulled the fabric from her palms, unsurprised her fingers were tipped in scratches and blood. She would not have to climb any farther—not that she could have with the sheer flat walls of the upper levels. She’d only needed to bypass the lower level and reach the second floor so that she could gain access to the spiral stairs that led toward the lady’s rooms, which had secret passages.
It was quick work when the castle slept, but Miri had to skirt several guards on her way. The king’s mistress’s sitting room was empty. Most of her ladies were asleep in their beds after so many years of going unneeded. A scattered few lay sleeping on the cushions before the windows of her bedchamber, where the cool night air brushed against a dozen sheer silks hanging from bedposts and over chairbacks. Miri crept through the room toward the massive stone fireplace, which was bare of wood. She pulled a candle, which had cracked during her climbing, from the pouch at her waist and lit it from a taper that had been left burning near the bed. She stepped through, careful of soot, and behind the hidden panel to be engulfed in the damp, stale air of the passageway.
The space was narrow, sandwiched between two walls, and left her no choice of which direction to go. She held a hand before the flame of her tilted candle, making her way as quickly as the air would allow. When she finally reached the end of the passage, she dampened her fingers and pinched the flame, waiting for the scent to dissipate as she prayed she’d been right about which corridor led to the king.
Miri listened for a painfully extended length of time, alone in the darkness and yearning for fresh, open air. She heard nothing, could see nothing, and felt no sense of movement beyond the wall. Holding her breath, she reached for the panel, pushing down the fear that the king had since blocked the way. There could be any number of furnishings on the other side, but her only other option had been climbing through the tube that evacuated his garderobe, and no one had attempted that since the uprisings following the Lion Queen’s murder. It had not ended well for the men who’d tried.
The panel came free of its frame with a woodenpop, and Miri held very still for another torturous moment. When she heard no movement from inside the room, she slid the panel aside, only to find more darkness. She reached tentatively forward, feeling the heavy woven back of a tapestry. Miri moved to her knees to peer below it and saw the bottom of a wide, open space. Its floors were covered in finely woven rugs, and its ornate fireplace was bare of wood. There was another passage on the far wall behind the massive wardrobe, Miri had been told, but that one led to a tower that held two sorcerers, something Miri hoped she would never face again.
She shook off the cold thought, crawling from the passageway to avoid shifting the massive tapestry from its place. Moonlight streamed through high windows. The air near her was still, but it rustled the sheers across the room. Her gaze roamed the far space as she searched for any dangers, trying to discern shapes that might be sleeping men. Miri eased forward on her knees, jolting and nearly screaming when she came face to face with the tangled mass of a hulking snake. She froze as it stared at her, its dark eyes unmoving and its head low. One more move, and the creature would have struck. Miri winced, silently begging the creature to let her go as she backed slowly toward the wall she’d only just emerged from. When she’d given it enough space, the snake slithered from its spot, crossing the floor at an angle and speed that made Miri’s stomach turn.
She leaned back, giving herself a moment to catch her breath, then settled on putting the panel back into place. She’d made it to the king’s rooms, clearly, and should she find the bath and complete her task, she did not want to have to come back to hide her trail.
