Page 109 of Queen of War and Ruin

He’s talking to a group of well-dressed men, probably minor lords. His back is turned toward me. Good.

I slip through the door and leave the crowded ballroom behind. Petrys leans against the wall a few steps ahead. As I approach, he turns and vanishes down another hallway. I follow him, slowly, swiveling my head around and smiling vacantly like I’m admiring the beautiful artwork on the walls. Almost all of the paintings I pass are portraits of Malrik. It’s unsettling to feel his pale eyes on my back no matter where I turn.

The music and laughter of the ballroom slowly fade. When I finally reach Petrys, he hands me a bundle of dark cloth.

“Put this on,” he whispers. “Your dress shines like the damn moon.”

I take the heavy cloak from his arms and pull it over my shoulders, hiding the sparkle of the elegant ball gown. Petrys pushes on the wall, revealing a hidden doorway that leads to a tight, dark passage. For the servants, I realize as I follow him through the door.

We make our way up one flight of stairs, then another. It’s so dark in the passageway that I need to keep one hand on the wall as I climb the stairs, following the sound of Petrys’s breathing.

Finally, the door cracks open. Petrys peers out, then turns back to me. He looks very pale in the dim light filtering through the open door.

“Wait here,” he whispers.

He steps through, then pulls the door closed. Darkness swells around me. I hear the low rasp of men’s voices in the hallway outside, followed by laughter, and then another low, muffled conversation. There’s something that sounds like feet scuffing the floor, and then boots thud closer to the door. Another low, growling laugh echoes through the stuffy darkness of the servants’ hallway.

“About damn time,” a man’s voice mutters.

I press my back into the wall as the footsteps thump past the door.

And then nothing. I breathe as quietly as I can as the voices fade. Finally, the door swings open silently, flooding the narrow hallway with light. I blink as my eyes sting.

“Over here,” Petrys whispers. “Watch the hall. Tell me if they’re coming back.”

I glance down the hallway. Four identical wooden doors stand in a row, their brass doorknobs gleaming in the lamplight. Petrys kneels in front of one, his face furrowed in concentration as he sticks a small piece of metal into the keyhole.

“Is that the right door?” I whisper.

“It’s the one they were standing in front of,” Petrys replies as he frowns at the lock.

I turn to stare down the hallway. Behind me, Petrys curses under his breath. Metal clicks against metal. The flame in the lamp hisses softly. Time passes, slowly and agonizingly. I shift back and forth under the heavy cloak, listening to my skirts rustle and trying not to glance over my shoulder at Petrys as he struggles with the lock. Gods, if only I could do something useful. Like pick a damn lock.

“Fuck,” Petrys snaps. “Finally.”

The door behind me swings open. A cold gust of air enters the hallway, making the lamps flicker and dance. Petrys stumbles to his feet, then steps into the room and turns back, offering me his hand. I follow him. He closes the door behind us.

The room is quiet, dark, and cold. Wind rustles the heavy curtains. I shiver, wondering why Varitan left the windows open.

“Zarek?” Petrys whispers. “Where are you?”

He starts to pace the room. I let my gaze drift across the windows, following the far curtain as it dances lazily in the wind. That’s the open window.

I step closer, frowning. There’s something odd about the window⁠—

“Oh,” I gasp.

Petrys spins to face me. I shiver as wind creeps across my skin.

“The window’s not open,” I whisper. “It’s gone. Broken.”

“Shit,” Petrys snaps.

He rushes toward the open window, and I notice something on the floor, sprawled halfway between the door and the shattered window. It looks like a pile of clothes.

Like laundry, my mind whispers. Like a pile of white laundry left on the floor of a cave. Streaked with blood.

The back of my throat turns bitter. I rush forward, knowing what I’m going to see and dreading it at the same time. My dress crunches as I fall to my knees. I reach forward as the dim light from the window washes over the cold, still body of my husband. And then I jam my fist in my mouth to keep from screaming.