Long May She Reign(57)

I passed it to Naomi so I could clutch Dagny closer to my chest. She was fond of hugs, for a cat, but not fond enough to put up with being held through all this noise and chaos. “Shh,” I murmured, stroking her back. She nipped my wrist in protest.

Naomi raised the lamp higher. Now I could see her fearful face, Madeleine’s stubborn calm—and another door, half concealed behind some crates.

“There!” I scrambled toward it. Naomi and Madeleine heaved the crates aside and pulled on the door handle. It resisted once, twice, sticking in the frame, but one final pull and it flew open, slamming into us.

The swinging light illuminated the space beyond the door at intervals. It was a narrow stone staircase, twisting down out of sight. Cobwebs stretched between the walls, and the worn steps were coated with dust. They looked like the slightest weight would make them crumble away.

“Go!” I said, jerking my head toward the space. Dagny squirmed again, hitting me in the chest with her tail, but I wasn’t going to let go now. “Quickly.”

They didn’t argue. Madeleine ran ahead, and Naomi gestured for me to go between them before pulling the door closed.

The floor was like ice against my bare feet, and the autumn chill settled through my nightgown, making me shiver. Cobwebs tangled on my arms as we ran down and down, praying the staircase was safe, praying more men were not waiting wherever it let out, our elbows bashing against the jagged stone walls. The passage was clearly one of the oldest parts of the Fort, not renovated even after a thousand years.

Ahead, Madeleine gasped. Naomi raised the light higher.

Water filled the narrow corridor below. It did not look too deep, but that could be deceptive, especially in the dark. Who knew how many steps it covered before it reached the floor?

“It must have come in from the moat,” I said. “Are we that far down?”

Madeleine stepped tentatively forward, holding her skirts high. She was wearing heels, I suddenly noticed. “There should have been a boat here,” she said. “It would have been tied there, look.” She gestured at a metal ring on the wall. Assumedly it had been there to stop the king from getting his feet wet if he ever had to flee his chambers. But there was no boat now. I peered into the darkness, as though it might be floating just out of reach, but no. Nothing.

“We’ll have to swim,” I said. Swim, with an oil lamp and a cat, in our nightgowns and Madeleine’s heels. But we had to do it.

“Or not.” Naomi followed the steps down, her white nightdress floating around her as the water rose to her knees, and then her waist, and then the bottom of her chest, and then . . . stopped. “We can walk. Come on.”

I wasn’t going to argue. I hoisted Dagny a little higher, but if the water reached Naomi’s chest, it would only come up to my waist. We’d be safe, as long as it wasn’t too full of disease. The water must have been down here a long time.

“It used to be deeper,” I said, nodding at the walls. There were lines about a foot above our heads, a difference in the color of the stone. “It must have drained somehow.” The water pushed against my waist, weighing me down, making every step a struggle. My white nightgown had puffed up around me. At least it was a fashionable size now, I thought distantly, and snorted despite myself.

Something skittered against the wall, and Dagny pricked up her ears. I didn’t pause to see what it was.

We passed the ruins of a boat once the stairs were no longer in sight. At least, I assumed it had once been a boat. Only rotten scraps remained.

A few minutes beyond that, stairs rose ahead of us again, eroded by the now-drained water. I stopped to listen. No voices, no signs of chaos ahead.

“Have we left the Fort?” I asked, as we picked our way onto the steps. The cold air hit me again, and I shivered. My skirt stuck to my skin, outlining my legs. Madeleine’s silks were stained by the water, but they were less see-through, at least. And she still wore those heels, apparently without concern.

“I don’t think so,” she said, looking ahead. “I don’t think we’ve gone far enough.”

I looked back over the water. The tunnel had vanished into darkness again. No sign of pursuit.

“We could wait here,” Naomi said, peering into the darkness as well. “It’s probably safe.”

“No,” I said. “I want to see what’s happening.” I wouldn’t wait here for them to find me. I strode up the steps, pressing my bare feet decisively into the stone.

The steps ended in a metal gate. It was locked, with a large padlock rusted shut across the handle, but the whole gate had warped with age. I shoved it with my shoulder, and it lurched, leaving a small gap. Another shove, and it bent sideways, leaving a space large enough to squeeze through. Naomi went first, her nightdress catching and tearing, and then she reached out to take Dagny before I climbed after her.

We emerged in the dungeons, tucked in one of the alcoves designed for guards. Everything was silent. “My lab,” I said. “This way.” We’d be able to find things to defend ourselves with there, chemicals and heavy instruments and things that made the eyes burn. But when we turned the corner, someone was already standing in the entrance to the lab. Madeleine raised her candlestick again. The figure turned at the sound of our approach.

It was Fitzroy.

“Freya!” he hissed. “You’re all right. Where have you been?” It almost sounded like a reproach.