Chapter 13

THE DUERGAR PALACE was all baroque curves and flourishes, with streamers flowing from the highest turrets and fluttering banners draping over the walls. It was made of pale-gray stone, and it seemed there was an armed sentry in every window and on every walkway. Again, the juxtaposition of guards and weaponry with cheery festivity set me on edge.

The party went up to the main entrance of the palace, where the huge steel doors were swung outward for our arrival. Inside, we passed through a courtyard with miniature hawthorn trees and pleasant fountains and went on into the central interior. The space inside was grander than the New Garg fortress—high ceilings, statuary, luxurious overstuffed furniture, and fresh flowers in giant vases.

A legion of Duergar attendants awaited us in a neat line. As soon as the entire party had gathered in the great hall, they broke formation and approached the guests they were assigned to. When a waif-like young Duergar man with shifting eyes headed my direction, Emmaline hopped around in front of me and intercepted him.

Maxen let go of my elbow. “I’ll send for you after we’ve been shown to our rooms,” he whispered in my ear.

Oh, great. That wouldn’t cause any gossip at all.

He stepped away before I could reply.

Emmaline came to me brandishing her tablet. “I can take you and Lady Tisdale to your room, now.”

I glanced around, looking for the shifty-eyed Duergar attendant and spotted him sulking at the edge of the group.

“I told him we wouldn’t need him until later,” Emmaline said with a wan smile.

“Fine work,” I said appreciatively. “Please, lead the way. I can’t wait to change out of this.” I plucked at the fabric of my dress.

The party began to disperse as the guests were taken to their quarters.

Emmaline consulted her tablet, which I saw had a layout of the Duergar palace, and then took us toward a doorway that led out into another courtyard. The Duergar boy trailed behind us.

“You and Lady Tisdale are sharing a suite up there,” my page said. She gestured up at the second-floor balcony that ran around the rectangular courtyard. “All of the guests will be on the same floor.”

We went up a staircase and around to a door with a pink flourish design molded onto it.

Once inside, I spotted our luggage and eagerly went to my trunk to pull out a blouse and a pair of riding pants. I set Mort against the wall so I could change. Emmaline closed and bolted the door before our Duergar attendant could sidle inside.

“He shouldn’t expect to be let into ladies’ quarters anyway,” she muttered.

Lochlyn was moving around the suite, making delighted sounds at the canopied beds, the mirrored vanity, and the crystal chandelier that hung in the small sitting room. The accommodations were luxurious, to be sure, but I didn’t plan to be there long enough to enjoy them.

Emmaline took my discarded dress to one of the armoires to hang it up, and I pulled out my broadsword but left the scabbard on the floor. I went to the nearest wall and started tapping Mort against it.

“What in the world are you doing?” Lochlyn demanded.

“Looking for . . . vulnerabilities,” I said.

I methodically moved around the main room. When I got to the area under the window seat, the tone of the sword against the wall panels changed a bit. I knelt and ran my fingers over the panels and then searched for a way to lift the seat, thinking it might be hollow for storage. The seat tipped back, and indeed there were extra quilts piled inside. I moved the quilts and began exploring the storage space with my hands. At one end, there was a panel that seemed loose. I worked my fingertips around the edge of it and pulled, and it opened, revealing a tunnel not much bigger than an air duct.

“Ha,” I said softly.

The space was tight, but big enough for a slender spy to shimmy through.

I found another hollow area near the toilet and one more in the ceiling of the closet. There was also a service panel in one bedroom that I suspected was another way into the quarters. I probably hadn’t found all the secret passages, but I was satisfied I’d found enough of them. They weren’t just for spies. Palaces always had hidden connections between rooms for other reasons, too—often in the name of discretion for sexual interludes. If it came down to it, I might need to use the passages to move around the palace myself.

While I’d been casing the quarters, Lochlyn had danced around humming to herself as she unpacked her things. She sat at the vanity, touching up her makeup.

I went to put on Mort’s scabbard, sheathed the broadsword, and checked that my karambit, a small but wicked knife, was in its pocket on the scabbard strap. Feeling slightly guilty for destroying the stylists’ fine work, I swept my hair up into a high ponytail and coiled that into a bun that was held in place by a few hairpins.

“Could I see your maps of the palace?” I asked my page.

She handed me her tablet, and I scrolled through the diagrams for a couple of minutes. The labeling was woefully sparse, only giving information about the areas where we would be attending events. The rest were big blank blocks.

“How much time did you spend here during your summers at court, Emmaline?” I asked.

“I’ve been here once before, the summer I was fifteen.”

“If someone were held here against their will, have any guesses about where they might be housed?”

Her purple-gray gaze sharpened with interest. She put a finger to her lips and thought for a moment. “There are some quarters behind the stables, a big bunk house. I used to sneak out there with some of the other girls. Either there, or the basement. Not to sound cliché, or anything, but there is a sort of dungeon down there.”

I’d take the stables over the dungeon. Periclase wanted my sister for some purpose, but I would bet that he didn’t want her reporting she was mistreated too terribly at the hands of the Duergar. That would make him look bad.

“Any inconspicuous way to get to the stables from here?” I asked Emmaline.

She pointed at the map. “There’s supposedly an underground tunnel that starts here, just outside the west kitchen at what looked like an old root cellar. But it was barricaded at both ends, so I never got the chance to try it.”

I nodded. “Good to know. How much time do we have?”

“Another half hour until you’re expected for cocktails,” she said.

“Perfect.” I passed her tablet back to her. “Lochlyn and I are going to do a bit of, uh, walking in the garden. We won’t be long.”

Before my page could protest, I grabbed Lochlyn’s wrist and towed her out the door.

“You know what to do, right?” I said to her in a low voice.

She fluffed up her pink-streaked platinum hair with one hand. “You know it.” Her expression turned to pure confidence.

As I’d expected, there were a couple of Duergar standing near the stairway that led down to the courtyard below. They weren’t armed and plated to the teeth like King Periclase’s guards, but they carried weapons and wore the vigilant expressions of men who were on duty.

Lochlyn went ahead while I hung back. The men hadn’t seen me, so I pressed into a doorway to keep hidden.

They each stepped into Lochlyn’s path when she went for the stairs.

“For your protection, you must stay in your quarters until your armed escort arrives,” one of them said.

For protection, right. Periclase wanted to keep us contained.

Lochlyn stepped close to one of the men and placed her hand on his arm. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I just wanted to look for a place to practice. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m Lochlyn Tisdale, world-renowned vocalist. I’ve been working on a new song. Maybe I could sing a little and you could tell me what you think?”

Her voice was taking on the purr of the Cait Sidhe, and she’d maneuvered around so the men were facing her with their backs to me.

She began to sing, her voice reverberating beautifully down the stairwell. I waited for a particularly powerful sustained note, took a couple of hurried steps to the balcony rail, and launched myself over it. Landing in a crouch that finished with a roll on the soft turf below, I paused just long enough to get my bearings and then ran on quiet feet to a corridor leading deeper into the palace.

The jump from the second story might have broken the ankles of another Fae, but New Gargoyles had unnatural bone strength. Plus, being smaller than most of my race, I had less body weight for the impact. I could probably have jumped from the third floor and landed without injury.

I wasn’t dumb enough to gloat yet, though. I was in Unseelie territory and surely already had at least two spies tailing me. That was fine for the moment. I knew they wouldn’t tattle on me yet—they’d be too interested in figuring out why I was sneaking around. When I needed to lose them, I would.

Emmaline had indicated that one end of the tunnel to the stable quarters was near one of the blank blocks on the map she remembered as a kitchen.

I was in a service hallway, but the staff I passed were casting me curious looks. I walked like I owned the place, which usually worked well to prevent anyone from questioning me, but it was only a matter of time before someone decided to notify a higher-up or I ran into a guard. I needed to get away from all of these eyeballs.

The outer perimeter of the palace was designed as a sort of squared-off U. I was still in the bottom of the U, in the section that housed my quarters. I needed to get to the area at the end of the left prong of the U. The entire structure was many times the size of the New Gargoyle fortress, and being unused to Fae palaces, I was going to have to pay attention to keep from getting turned around. My best bet was to get outside as quickly as possible.

Taking a couple of abrupt turns, I was aiming to get to an external door when I caught the unmistakable crisp linen and fresh soap smell of laundry. A laundromat would most likely be situated on an exterior wall, due to the great volume of venting required. I sped up, following my nose and the low, rhythmic rumbles of washing machines and dryers.

My hand was inches from the laundromat door when it swung inward. I was looking straight at the broad chest of a Duergar in light armor.

“Oh, shit,” I said.

“Oh, shit, indeed,” he replied mildly.

When I tipped my head back, I locked gazes with a pair of the most remarkable eyes I’d ever seen. Blue rings demarcated the outer iris, bleeding into gold that transitioned into grass-green around the pupil.

I had just enough time to notice that his right forearm was encased in stone armor before I whirled around, ready to dart away.

But three Duergar barreled in from the right and two more from the left. I instinctively reached back for Mort. Wrong move. They obviously took it as a threat, and a second later I was on the ground writhing as one of the guards shot me with a magi-zapper.

It seemed to go on forever, like lightning burning up my spine.

When it finally stopped, all I could do was lie there gasping like a beached fish. I watched helplessly as the one with the stone armor forearm peeled me off the floor and slung me over his shoulder like the living rag doll that I was. Still paralyzed from the zap, I tried to force the gears of my brain to grind into motion and tune into what the guards were saying.

When I caught King Periclase’s and Maxen’s names, I knew I was royally screwed.