Steam flowed vigorously from the recently-opened street grates. The storm had ceased, most of the water had been carried away by the city’s collection system, and the underground metropolis was now sweating via its metal pores after being cooped up for half the night.

  Although Robles had been boisterous and argumentative the previous evening, this morning he was silent and sullen alongside her in the carriage.

  However, she knew they had made progress, because Torrell had had to go out in the rain immediately after dinner, and she’d heard two messengers arrive during the night. The result of which, they were now on their way back to the palace, and as they reached the end of the tree-lined avenue that culminated at the palace’s main gate,

  “No guards.” Robles tapped his fingers on the large, boiled leather box sitting in Kaddie’s lap. “Are you sure you remembered everything?”

  “I don’t forget.”

  Conversation lapsed once more until they had alighted from the carriage and were standing before the squat, forbidding door outside the palace’s kitchen. It was early, the sun had yet to rise, and the air was chilly.

  “Before we enter,” Robles said, “I’ve no wish to alarm you, but going off the lack of guards, the consequences of the girl’s sickness may have brought things to a head.”

  “Consequences?”

  “Politics, my dear. And I’m wondering if I should have brought you.”

  “She won’t talk to anyone else.”

  “And therefore, here we are. Listen, if anything should happen and we get separated, look for Groach. Right now, he’s the only one we can trust.”

  Kaddie watched the carriage disappear from view around the corner, leaving them alone in the narrow street. On this occasion, when Robles let the door knocker fall, they had a long, anxious wait.

  “Quickly,” Groach said as the door opened. He beckoned them inside.

  Kaddie had assumed the kitchen would be extremely busy at this time of day. She tugged at Robles’ sleeve. “It’s too quiet.”

  “You don’t say,” he grumbled, as Groach led them through the service hall.

  As it turned out, neither the kitchen, nor the laundry, were deserted. There were a few faces she recognized from yesterday, still at their posts, busy at their respective tasks, but whether chopping vegetables, washing dishes, or wringing laundry, everyone was performing their task in silence and with the utmost caution, as if the slightest noise would bring intolerable wrath tumbling down upon their heads. It was a distinct contrast to the atmosphere of yesterday.

  Paces ahead, Robles and Groach were conversing in whispers. She caught a few words, something about a commotion at the city’s main gate, and an arrival of unannounced visitors at the palace.

  Kaddie kept a firm hold of the box she was carrying. She and Robles had argued over its contents the night before. A potential cure. Its side effects. The dosage.

  “She might lose her hair.”

  “Temporary,” Kaddie had asserted. “And it’s better than dying.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

  They simply hadn’t had time to prepare the myriad of alternatives in lower doses. She’d also caught snippets of a conversation between Robles and Elspeth, too, while she was eating supper.

  “If he was paid off, it explains why Poole waited so long and why he couldn’t fathom her diagnosis.”

  “You need to be careful,” Elspeth had said, “if we get this wrong he can stand back and blame it all on you.”

  “You mean we’re walking into a trap? You’re a cynical woman, Elspeth. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

  Kaddie had discovered she couldn’t finish her supper. Couldn’t sleep, either. And now, here they were, potentially about to be blamed for a girl’s death, and then what?

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  They reached the end of the service hall. Groach was holding open one of the swinging doors. “Don’t you worry, lass,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

  Her heart began to pound. She was feeling under threat and she’d had no time to collect her sickle.

  She and Robles hurried undetected beyond the stone-floored corridor and out into the grand, white hall. It was empty. She heard a man’s voice barking orders from somewhere on the upper floors. There was no sign of Poisoner Poole.

  “Quickly.” Robles was carrying his cane via its lower extremity. The shiny horse’s head was bobbing back and forth as if he was ready to hit someone with it.

  Kaddie avoided the high-piled woolen rugs as they dashed toward one of the grand staircases, lest she trip up with her precious cargo. “I wish I’d brought my sickle.”

  Her employer raised a stern eyebrow before offering her a manic grin.

  They ran up the stairs to the next floor. Kaddie heard heavy thumping noises, as if furniture was being overturned. A scream followed, one belonging to a man overcome by terror. She didn’t think her heart capable of beating any faster, and she feared if they were apprehended, Robles’ stick wouldn’t be enough.

  Finally, they reached the floor of Nianne’s bedroom and turned a corner. Robles put out a hand and stopped her from dashing forward. Someone had extinguished most of the lights on this particular corridor, and the single lantern at its far end wasn’t enough to chase away the shadows.

  “Maiden’s armpits,” he hissed.

  She stared beyond his arm at what appeared to be a bundle of clothing on the floor, but as her eyes got used to the gloom, it became something more. “It’s the nanny.” She recognized the skirt, and the barely held together topknot of hair.

  They crept forward. Robles crouched alongside the fallen woman, and after a moment shook his head. “Dead.”

  “What about Nianne?”

  He put a finger to his lips and crept a few paces ahead.

  Kaddie stepped carefully over a thick pool of blood on the floor. For the space of two breaths she couldn’t stop staring at it, and she was thankful that the lights had been extinguished.

  Looking ahead, she saw Nianne’s bedroom doors were open and Robles had disappeared within. Yesterday, those very same doors had been guarded by two footmen. Where were they?

  At the doorway she saw him standing in the center of the room, his shoulders lowered. “She’s not here,” he whispered. “She’s gone. They’ve probably taken her.”

  Kaddie dashed by him and placed the box she’d been carrying on the bed. “Nianne,” she hissed.

  Robles gathered his wits and opened a closet door. “Check under the bed, quickly.”

  She lowered herself on her hands and knees and lifted the trailing bedcovers. “Here,” she urged. “She’s here.”

  Robles dashed to the bedroom doors and quietly pushed them shut. “Maybe the nanny was trying to lure them away.”

  “And they killed her?” Kaddie was now flat on her belly, her arm at full stretch beneath the bed, searching blindly until her fingers latched onto a length of fabric. “Nianne, take my hand.” She felt the faintest touch before it drifted away. “I can’t reach. She’s too weak.”

  An exasperated growl escaped from Robles as he crouched at the bed’s opposite side. “You pull, I’ll push.”

  “But—”

  “Do it. Before someone comes, you idiot girl.”

  Kaddie crawled partly beneath the bed and stretched as far as she could. On this occasion she was able to grasp a piece of damp linen, and this time she pulled. She heard a gasp, followed by a sharp whimper. It was followed by a hand clutching desperately at her wrist.

  “Do you have her?” Robles’ voice was muffled.

  “Yes.”

  “Then pull as if your life depended on it.”

  Kaddie pulled until she was able to roll free from beneath the bed, drawing the frail figure of Nianne along with her. Together they lay in a heap on the rug.

  Robles was already on his feet, opening the lid of the box. “Quickly, sit her up.” He unstopped the first of two clay jugs.

  “What is it?” The girl’s voice was barely evident. Her eyes were blinking lazily in the dim light.

  “Something that will make you feel better,” Kaddie said. The girl felt like a rag doll in her arms as she attempted to sit her upright. “Drink them down fast, then we’ll get you out of here.”

  “Does it taste bad?”

  “Of course it tastes bad,” Robles growled, leaning forward. “Now, no more questions. Down the hatch.”

  Kaddie felt the girl shudder as she ingested the first jug’s contents. She could sympathize. The mixture would be decidedly bitter to an inexperienced palate, and there was worse to come. Robles had given her the milder of the two, and consequently the second dose left the girl in a state of tears.

  “Ask her about gifts.” Her employer was returning the jugs to their cradles within the box. “Quickly. We don’t have much time.”

  Nianne attempted to laugh in the midst of her sobbing. “Gifts? I was given nothing. Just the dress.”

  Kaddie and Robles exchanged a glance. “Where is it?” she said, and rose quickly as Nianne pointed toward the door of the closet.

  “Don’t touch it. Use a bed sheet,” Robles instructed.

  She threw open the door. It was difficult to see what lay inside the young woman’s wardrobe, but a garment paler than the rest, constructed with a wasteful amount of fabric stood out in the shadows.

  Leaving the door open, she returned to the bed and hauled at the bedding until one of the sheets lay in her grasp.

  “Hurry,” Robles spat. He’d already gathered the ailing girl in his arms and was heading toward the outer door. “Don’t forget the box. And bring my stick.”

  Kaddie gave him a sour look, but nonetheless made quick work of bundling the expansive dress inside the bed sheet, whose corners she then tied together and hooked the horse’s head of Robles’ stick through the bulky knot. Bracing the stick and the bundle over her shoulder, she collected the box with her free hand.

  It was an unwieldy arrangement, especially as, after listening for a moment and determining there was no one was outside, it became her task to open the door.

  “Hurry,” Robles said, as her fingers fumbled with the latch.