“Where are you going?” Elias asked.
“To save all of you from turning a door into another discussion.”
“Your arm is in a sling.”
“My other arm works.”
She crossed the outer room and opened the small service door near the fireplace. A cold passage waited beyond it. At the far end, weak white light showed around the edges of an iron gate.
Mara looked back at us.
“The court’s old covered way still reaches the royal garden.”
11
BRYONY
Mara’s certainty lasted until the iron gate refused to move.
She planted one boot against the wall and pulled the handle with her good arm. The gate answered with a dull groan, shifted half an inch and stopped.
“It worked more smoothly a century ago,” she said.
Elias looked at the sling. “Most things did.”
The covered walk ran along Harrowmere’s outer wall. A stone roof kept out the sky, but cold air moved through narrow arches on our right. The royal garden lay beyond them, white and silver under the last hour of night.
The Crown had been whispering since we entered the passage.
Make Stellan open it.
Order the house.
Use what belongs to you.
I kept my mouth shut.
Stellan reached for the gate. Mara slapped his hand away.
“I have it.”
“You have one working arm.”
“I also have a crowbar.”
She pulled a rusted bar from two hooks on the wall and wedged its end under the gate. Stellan stepped back before she could threaten him with it.
Mara leaned her weight onto the bar. Metal scraped over stone. The gate gave another inch, then another. Elias steadied her at the waist, careful of her injured shoulder, and muttered something unkind about people who ignored medical advice.
“Less complaining,” she said through her teeth. “More pushing.”
“I thought you had it.”
“I’ve reconsidered.”
Stellan caught the edge with both hands. He didn’t pull until Mara nodded. Together they forced the gate along its track.
The sound carried through the covered walk, loud enough to wake every bird in the garden. Rust fell in orange flakes. The gate finally struck the outer wall and stayed there.