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The West Wing.
The one place I was refused entry and have been trying to get to since I arrived.
A million thoughts flit through my mind, and my heart races as it always does when I think of what awaits us there.
Instead of saying any of those things, though, I simply nod as he leads the way.
We’re fairly silent as we walk the length of the hall, twisting and turning down each passage. It’s nerve-wracking to have only my anxious thoughts to keep me company, but I’m not sure what to say. Everything that comes to mind, every question I want to ask, feels wrong.
So, I keep them to myself until we eventually come to a stop at a dead end.
Einar rests his torch on the hook next to us and runs a hand along the right side of the wall until his finger finds purchase in a nearly invisible crevasse. He pulls out another key and uses it to grapple with a small lock.
A red light filters in, revealing a rectangular frame.
Fascinating.
He pushes it open wider, and, suddenly, I know exactly where we are.
A rose-shaped mosaic lights the floor and walls around us, casting a haunting reminder of every reason I was sent here.
There are even more alchemist’s tools in this room than in his private study. Beakers and metal frames, small candles, and mortar and pestles line the long table in the center of the room. Along with shelves holding hundreds of jars of ominous-looking substances.
Einar looks back at me with a sad smile.
“This is where I spend most of my free time,” he says, finally breaking the tense silence between us. “This is where I’ve spent nearly two decades searching for a cure.”
I marvel at that, at him, at how dedicated he is to his people, and at his endless amount of hope.
"Once I realized what had happened, I went to search her rooms.” He doesn’t need to clarify theher; I know too well who she is. “On her bed was this single, blood-red rose, along with a note telling me it was my only hope for a cure. After that, she disappeared. Even the substantial resources of a king couldn’t find so much as a trace of her.”
Madame can change her features on a whim. The resources of all the kings in the world couldn’t find her if she didn’t want to be found, but there’s no point in telling him that now.
So I say nothing, because there are no words to express my fury or the overwhelming sadness that has crept its way into my bones at her callous calculations. Even sending me here, knowing he possessed a flower with a rare poison she required for reasons only she knew.
She knew he had it because she gave it to him. And now, she wanted to take it away. To ensure he didn’t find a cure? To keep punishing him?
Or was this her plan all along. If she truly had meant to poison him the first time, perhaps she needed more of this to finish the job in a way no one would be suspicious of.
Your first task is simple. Marry the king and produce an heir.
I swallow back a fresh wave of revulsion. But really, what had I expected? How would she possibly control a kingdom still in the possession of a strong-minded king?
The second one might be trickier. I need you to steal something valuable. My sources say it is well hidden. You’ll need to gain his trust, first.
I had been relieved when she had sketched it out. A flower. It seemed simple enough. But now…
The sound of Einar’s footsteps forces me back to the present. He walks directly toward the stained-glass window I noticed when we first arrived and removes the chain around his neck. He inserts it in an ordinary looking pane in the window frame. I understand the basic mechanics of lock picking, a skill I picked up courtesy of Aika, but I don't think even she would be able to tackle this one.
The pane swings open to reveal a single, black-stemmed flower in a small vase.Or what is left of one.The mosaic above the rose, of sorts, is an exact replica, far more accurate than the loose sketch I was shown before leaving. Except the glass version still has a full array of petals, whereas the flower before me is down to two.
It is identical to the one Madame sent with Damian. That must have been quite a challenge, even for her, but then, her mind was never the broken part. It’s her soul that’s been rent in pieces.
Of course.I sigh, cursing him internally for showing me this place, even as I know that I set this all in motion.
This is why I’m here, is it not?The whole cursed thing that started this mess, the reason for every damned thing I’ve done and am about to do.
“Why would you trust me with this?” I can hardly hide the note of accusation in my voice, even though I know, rationally, he isn’t the one to blame.
