The guards at the front gate watch me approach through narrowed eyes. I hold my head high, channeling every ounce of regal poise I absorbed from Marion.
“Halt!” One of the guards, a burly man with a thickbeard, steps in front of the massive pentacle twisted into the design of the iron gate, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “State your business.”
It’s him—the same guard who killed Lila’s protector as she scrambled to hold back her brother.
My gaze drops to the ground beneath my feet. The cobblestones are stained red with blood. I clench my hands into fists so tightly, my nails bite into my palms. Taking a deep breath, I lift my head and spear the guard with a gaze that could melt glass.
“I am Lady Ashwood,” I announce, my voice barbed. “And I demand to see Queen Lockhart.”
The guard’s eyes widen slightly, and he glances back at his companions, uncertainty wrinkling his forehead.
I chose to ask for the queen mother for a reason,thisreason. She’s reclusive and withdrawn. It’ll take time for McDougall, for everyone within the palace, to figure out what to do with me. And that’s exactly what I need—time.
The bearded guard frowns, the lines on his forehead deepening as he settles back onto his heels. “Lady Ashwood? We were told Lord and Lady Ashwood were no better than swindlers. You’re the real deal, are you?”
“What you were told is irrelevant. Furthermore, I do not have to prove my lineage to the likes of you. I shall let your betters sort that out,” I say, my voice like steel. “Now, inform Her Majesty that Lady Ashwood—therealLady Ashwood—is calling. After what has transpired in her palace, Queen Lockhart will not do me the disrespect of refusing an audience.”
He crosses his arms over his barrel chest, a silent immovable wall. “Queen Lockhart does not receiveunexpected visitors. Perhaps Lord Four or King Lockhart—”
“I will speak only with the queen,” I demand. “At the very least, I am owed that much.”
He squints and rubs the scraggly end of his beard. “Wait here. I’ll convey your request to—”
“No,” I bark, taking a step forward, my dress swirling around my ankles. “If your queen wishes for me to wait, I shall do so inside the palace and not out here on the streets.”
I hold my breath, the seconds stretching, my heart hammering. I can’t afford to show any weakness. Not now. Not when I’m so close to getting back inside the palace to set everything right.
He hesitates, then slowly nods, signaling to the other guards to unlock the gates. As the heavy iron creaks open, I release my breath. The scrape of metal against stone sets my teeth on edge, but the Empress is a warm, steady pulse against my chest, a promise that I’m on the right path.
I straighten my shoulders and stride through the open gate, my adrenaline pumping and my pulse pounding between my ears. They close behind me with a resoundingclang, sealing me in as I step onto the stone pathway leading to the palace’s entrance. Massive doors loom ahead, flanked by more guards. They stand at attention, their gazes fixed as we approach. I lift my chin, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.
The bearded guard whispers to another, who steps inside, while the others remain by the door, their expressions unreadable. I stand there, waiting, nervous sweat sliding down my back.
They’re going to catch you, Hannah. They’ll see right through this expensive disguise and throw you in jail to rot.
I nearly choke and cover it up with some sharp throat clearing. I won’t let fear hold me back or trip me up. Not this time. I push away my doomed thoughts and stiffen my spine.
IamLady Ashwood, and these men will do as I say.
When I step inside, I’m taken back to the first time I entered the palace—naive and desperate to find my way home. The grandeur nearly overwhelmed me, the vast halls stretching endlessly, the marble floors and high ceilings making it clear this world wasn’t mine.
But this time, it’s different. The grandeur is still there, my senses humming with riches and splendor, but I’m not as wide-eyed as I used to be. I’m in control. I belong here. The palace, the Kingdom of Pentacles, is simply a company like any other, and I know exactly how to speak that language.
Same as before, McDougall is immediately at my side, his presence as sudden and silent as a ghost. His lace-white wisp of hair floats above his head, his weathered features pressed into a question. “Does my lady have any luggage that needs to be fetched or a carriage to be seen to?”
A smile lifts my cheeks, and a laugh escapes me. All luxury destinations are the same, it seems.
“No luggage. No carriage. Simply me.”
The urge to take his hand, to thank him for everything he’s done and apologize for trying to be someone I’m not, wells up within me. But I don’t. The time will come, but this isn’t it. The stakes are too high. For now, I’m happy my disguise works. The gown, the wig, theviolet contacts—I’m playing my role perfectly, and I’m in control of the narrative.
He nods. “Very well, my lady. Shall I escort you to the sitting room, perhaps ring for tea?”
“That would be lovely.”
He motions to the nearest attendant, who bobs into a curtsy and disappears into the maze of the palace as I fall into step beside him. The familiarity of his presence brings a sense of comfort, another reminder that I’m not entirely alone.
We reach the sitting room, the air tinged with the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting a warm glow on the velvet-lined furniture and ornate tapestries.
