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“The passage to the kitchen is behind here,” Maude says, pointing to a crumbling statue of a young archer with a wolf by his side. “But I’ll show you the grounds for now. This way.”

I pretend like I know what she’s talking about. We walk through the garden, buds just beginning to blossom on the trees, the sun filtering through their branches. We pass by the old oak tree, where Dr. Blythe made me practice the third Augury, Growth. The tree was so big, I never thought I’d be able to affect it. But I did. I remember the blood that poured out of my nose while he clapped in appreciation.

I notice new things, too, things I hadn’t been able to sense before. The smell of the earth is different here than in the Farm—there’s a chemical note to it that makes my nose wrinkle. And what I once thought of as wildness in the way the trees grow now feels contained—this garden may look untamed but every tree was carefully planted. They are as trapped here as I was, all shoved together with no room to breathe. Earth is the element I connect with the easiest and most deeply—the trees around me sense my presence, the way a dog’s ears might prick at a familiar noise. I want to reach out to them, to join with them.

We pass the little pond, where I once told Ash I couldn’t see him anymore. Bright orange-and-white fish dart around in the shallow water. We emerge out into the tidier area, skirting the giant hedge maze. But instead of going in through the door next to the ballroom—the door I always used when I visited this garden—Maude swerves sharply to the right. There are stairs cut into the ground, hidden by bushes, leading down to a plain wooden door. She opens it and I find myself at the edge of a bustling kitchen.

A large wooden table dominates the center of the room. Several cooks in white aprons are busy shouting out orders or stirring things in pots or chopping vegetables. There are five enormous stoves and something seems to be boiling, simmering, or baking in every one. Scullery maids with soot-smudged faces poke at fires and refill the piles of wood stacked at various points around the kitchen. One girl is kneading an enormous pile of dough. We’re clearly in a lower level of the palace—the windows are high up in the walls, long rectangular shafts of light slanting through them. Gleaming copper pots and pans hang from racks on the ceiling. The smells here are delicious; roasting meat and garlic and freshly baked bread. A footman is flirting with a maid in one corner and with a start I recognize her—she’s Carnelian’s maid. I think her name is Mary.

I resist the urge to touch my face, to make sure it still looks as different as I made it.

“Who’s this?” a red-faced cook bellows. She’s nearly as fat as the Countess of the Stone, Raven’s evil former mistress. But the Countess of the Stone has cold, cruel eyes—this woman bears a much friendlier expression.

“Garnet hired her to serve Coral,” Maude explains.

“Good for him,” the cook says. “It had to happen sooner or later. Here you go, dearie, have a tart.” She motions to a tray of pastries topped with glazed apple slices. I scoop one up and eat it gratefully.

“No time for food,” Maude says, leading me away.

“Thank you,” I say to the cook, brushing a few crumbs from my lips. She smiles at me.

We walk down a long stone hall, other corridors branching off it, and then up a set of stairs, emerging into the servant’s wing of the palace. Maude leads me down the main corridor and then makes a sharp left.

“Here we are,” she says, opening the door to what appears to be a combination drawing room and fitting room. There is a three-sided mirror in one corner near a row of closets. In the opposite corner is a couch upholstered in peach silk and a low mahogany coffee table. A pitcher of water and two glasses sit on the table. “Find yourself a dress that fits—I think the lady-in-waiting garments are . . .” She opens a closet door, closes it, then opens another one. “Ah. Here we are.”

There are rows of white dresses with high lace collars. A knot tightens in my stomach. This is all becoming too surreal—me being here, under totally different circumstances. I look at the dresses again. Are these the same ones Annabelle wore?

“Come on now, Lily, we haven’t got all day.” Maude reaches into the closet and pulls out a dress. “This looks to be about your size.”

She hands it to me and I realize I’m expected to change right now. I slip off the brown dress, sad to lose the only part of the White Rose I brought with me. The lady-in-waiting dress fits fairly well and I decide it can’t have been Annabelle’s—she was far thinner than me, and flatter in the chest. The lace itches around my throat.

“That looks lovely. Now just to fix your hair.” Maude reaches for my low bun, but I step back.

“That’s all right, I can do it,” I say. I don’t need Maude asking questions about the arcana, which I carry in my hair everywhere I go. I wait until her back is turned and then hastily sweep my hair up to form a tight bun on the crown of my head, just like Annabelle wore, keeping the tuning fork tucked away inside.

“Very nice,” Maude says. She spritzes me with some flowery perfume and pronounces me fit to be seen in the palace.

“Her ladyship and Cora are out at the moment,” she says. “I’m surprised Cora didn’t stay home and wait for your arrival. She usually greets the new ladies-in-waiting.”

“She probably didn’t believe Garnet either,” I say.

Maude chuckles. “You’re right, my dear, she likely did not. Well, I suppose it falls to me to show you around a bit, then.”

I smile. No Cora and no Duchess and a tour of the palace? This is the perfect time to look for Hazel. Maude might even lead me straight to her.

“That would be lovely,” I say. “Lead the way.”

Seven

I FEEL CONFIDENT THAT I’LL MASTER THE TOUR QUICKLY—after all, I lived in this palace for three months.

But once we reach the end of the servant’s wing and pass through the glass promenade that connects it to the main part of the palace, Maude pulls back a tapestry depicting some former Duchess of the Lake, which hangs on the wall by the dining room. A set of stone steps are behind it, leading to, I presume, the series of corridors I saw earlier.

“I’m sure you know the rules about being seen,” she says as we descend. The air is noticeably cooler, and I’m reminded of the secret passageway from Ash’s parlor to the library. I wonder if these halls connect with that one.

“Why don’t you just go over everything,” I say. “I’m sure both Garnet and the Duchess would want me fully briefed.”

This seems to impress Maude. “Smart girl. Very well. We may use the main corridors only at meal times and when the Duchess is out. You may be seen in various rooms—I’ll give you a list later—as long as you are cleaning. The Duke’s quarters will be off-limits to you, as are the Duchess’s and surrogate’s.”