A Drop of Night(60)

Lilly throws Hayden a look a concerned look. I turn to Jules. “Jules?”

“Well, we’re not finding the exit without Perdu—” Jules starts.

Hayden pounds his hands together. “Unanimous.” He stands, and faces the dark. “And now we need a new base camp. Pronto. Check out the chandelier.”

I glance up. The chandelier is turning slowly, rotating down its chain with a soft creaking sound. Its arms are blades, folding outward in elegant swoops, reaching almost to the corners of the room.



We crawl out of the chandelier room, then pick ourselves up and run six rooms further. Will swings us to a stop in front of a pair of ornate doors carved with golden petals. I peer up through the gloom, squinting at the scroll above them. “‘Chambre de la Rose,’” I read out loud. “‘For my darling, my heart, my treasure, Madame Célestine.’”

“Sounds like a safe bet,” Will says, and we push in, light beams swinging through the space. It’s a bedroom. Beautiful. Everything is small, not quite child-small, but like it was built for a very short person. The wallpaper shows massive blooms, huge, abundant leaves, no thorns, makes you feel like you’re a tiny bug right inside the rosebush. Pale wood tables and flowery upholstered chairs look like they’re sprouting right up out of the floor.

This does seem like a safe bet. No one wants My Darling, My Heart, My Treasure tripping a wire and blowing herself up, right?

Hayden slams a dainty white writing desk against the door and we congregate around the bed. I drop onto it, dragging my legs up. Jules kicks off the pillows, hurling them at the wall.

“Hall of mirrors,” I say. “We need to get there. We need to get in. And then we need to take it over.”

Will hangs his flashlight from a tassel and gets on the bed, too. Lilly follows. Hayden throws himself into one of the tiny chairs. It creaks under him, the dainty legs bending.

“How are we going to find it?” Lilly asks. “It might be miles from here.”

“I don’t think so. It’s obviously not to the north. They said we’d have one safe direction to travel. They’re basically rolling out a carpet for us.”

“What about weapons?” Jules says. “I’m sorry, but if we’re hacking at the trackers with swords, this is not going to be a successful endeavor. It’s just not.”

“Wait.” Lilly sits straight up. “Rabbit Gallery.”

“What?”

“It’s full of weapons. It’s like a weapons buffet.”

“Uh-huh. That hall is at least a mile back, and there were trap rooms between here and there. Remember the room Will got all excited about?”

Will does that barking non-laugh thing and looks at the ceiling.

“We’ll take a different route,” Lilly says. “We can go six or seven rooms west. That should be far enough from the perimeter. Hopefully. And then we can head south. We’ll be fine.”

“What’s Rabbit Gallery?” Hayden asks. He’s tugging at something at the bottom of his leg, like he’s got an uncomfortable wrinkle in his sock.

“It’s an exhibition hall full of weapons and stolen art somewhere south of here,” I say. “But I’m not sure if we can make it that far.” I glance at the others.

Lilly nods. “We can. It’s either that or we find swords and letter openers and, like, joke them to death.”

Hayden grimaces. I look over at him. He’s still pulling at something inside his shoe. When his hand comes up it’s holding a waxy yellowed strip of skin.

Jules’s eyes widen in disgust. “Leprosy, much?” he says.

Lilly swallows loudly. “Hayden, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he looks confused. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

We stare at him a second. I shake my head. “We make a run for it, then? All in favor?”

Nodding all around. We grab our flashlights.

“Leave the food and anything we don’t need,” Will says, dragging the desk away from the door with his good hand. “We’ll come back here.”

I dig the compass from my sweater. Lilly shines her light at it. We head out.

We’re going west this time, away from Jellyfish Hall and toward what we assume is the center of the palace. At the very first door we all stop. Listen. No sound. We open the door and step over the threshold, and it feels like walking toward an oncoming truck, staring down those glaring headlights and sixteen growling wheels, and being like: psh. I got this. We’re heading straight for Dorf, straight for the trackers and whatever it is we were brought here for. It feels like tempting fate. So, about 30 percent exhilarating, 70 percent stupid.

After five rooms we turn south again, through the dark, echoing halls. No traps so far. Dorf was telling us the only safe way to go was toward the palace’s center, but I don’t think he counted on us backtracking. We start to run, lights flashing, our feet quiet on the polished floor.



It’s possible we’re lost. We’re heading south, and no one’s been decapitated yet, both good things, but we had to go up a steep narrow staircase about five rooms back and now we’re someplace I don’t recognize at all: a suite of small, luxurious rooms, tucked above the huger halls and ballrooms below. Little windows are embedded in the paneling, low, near the floor. The panes are angled downward, and through them I see chandeliers, marble floors about thirty feet below. These rooms are small, paneled in dark cherry wood. The ceilings are so low. It’s like a running through a dollhouse. The air is warm. The lamps are lit, glistening on coffee-colored leather and brass-riveted wing chairs.