A narrow door emerged from the dust behind it. Just big enough for us to crawl through. If these passages led to the royal rooms, I hoped to catch a fragment of Kallias and Tallon’s conversation again.
“What happened?” Scythe asked, her lamp casting a dim light on my face as she wedged herself beside me.
I opened the door and crept through. “I think your spare time would be better spent cleaning this than braiding ribbons,” I muttered, brushing something soft and gooey.
“Creepy tunnels aren’t on my to-do list,” she snorted, following me inside. “It’s below my pay.”
The light confirmed my worst fear—rat droppings smeared across my hand. I wiped it on my leggings with a grimace. We crawled deeper into the pitch-black tunnel, halting at every creak above us.
The Spire was unlike other palaces. There was only so much stone to hollow out before reaching its limits. Older places like the Golden Palace had been built layer after layer, sections stacked over tunnels, halls over passages. I had no idea where we were, but I remembered where I’d last heard Kallias’ voice.
As we rounded the corner, muffled sounds reached us. Scythe met my gaze, her eyes bright with mischief. She scrambled toward the small door ahead, marked by a trail less dusty than the rest of the crawlspace. With a quick flick, she dimmed the lamp to a faint glow and pressed her ear against the wood. I joined her.
“I am theking!” Kallias roared. “He pushes back on everything I say or do, taunts my nobles, and allies with theVelli. Elohios knows why he’s been spending so much time with the eastern nobles.”
“Kal.”
A voice, too familiar. Someone close enough to call him by a nickname. Greaves.
“I would have killed him—wanted to,” the king growled, the words muffled as if he were turned away.
“He mingles with eastern nobles, but doesn’t like Sai’glon. Why?”
“I have no idea. You know him as well as I do,” Kallias bit out.
“He’s your son.”
“Is he?” The question was chased with a scoff.
Scythe raised an eyebrow at me.
“If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t put him on the throne.”
A thump sounded, followed by a muffled noise—something hit or thrown. “I’ve no choice. Tallon is the only option, regardless of whether he’s mine. I‘m not leaving Radaan anytime soon. I’ll have time.”
“Time for what, Kal? To teach him? Eldeiade had him for seventeen years. He learned all he would from her. You’re not getting younger–”
“As you keep reminding me.”
“Without another heir—the throne will be left to him. He’s too open with his rebellion. If you don’t do something drastic, he’ll tear this kingdom apart and take Nienna with him.”
“Donotbring her into this.”
Scythe’s brows shot up, and I frowned, pressing closer to the door.
Greaves’ voice came again, darker. “Send her back.”
“Enough,” Kallias snapped, his tone icy, dismissing his guard without hesitation.
“You won’t, because you can’t, but it’s what’s best. You’ll ruin her.”
A loud slam echoed through the room, followed by heavy footsteps storming off.
Greaves groaned from the other side. “Gods, where are we off to with all that pent-up rage?”
“To do something drastic.”
A door slammed.
