The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(46)

“You were right,” she whispered in reply. “She normally doesn’t fall asleep like this when she’s watching us. But choosing a boring game like Wizr, and playing it so quietly . . . just look at her. Should we go?”

Owen nodded. They had several hours before the effects of the tea would wear off. The Mortimer girl grabbed his hand but paused to move one of the game pieces with her free hand. “Threat,” she said after the move, indicating a surprise attack he had not expected. Leave it to her to show talent at a complicated game she found boring. “Come on!” she said, tugging him to follow.

The two crept away from the library, their footfalls silenced by the thick carpet. As soon as they were past the doors, they broke into a run. Owen let her guide, as she knew the way. There was always a thrill to being naughty, and he could tell it was coursing through them both. There were servants all around, but everyone in the palace knew about Owen Satchel and the Mortimer girl, and there were only a few grunts and warnings not to get underfoot.

Their destination was a side corridor by the servants’ quarters. The level of dust on the floor showed it was not well traveled. A big, sturdy door met them at the end of the corridor. Owen had tried it before and found it locked, so he had never been back again.

The Mortimer girl grinned at him mischievously. “There is a window in the door. I dragged that basket over and stood on it, and that’s how I saw the secret place.”

“But the door is locked,” Owen said, yanking on the iron latch. It rattled but did not loosen.

“I know, but look over there. See the tapestry? Why would there be a tapestry in the middle of a hall that no one uses?”

Owen hadn’t noticed it before, and it did look a little strange. The tapestry was suspended from an iron pole fastened into the stone. The Mortimer girl winked and walked over to it, then pulled it aside. The tapestry concealed a curtained window.

“The curtain is thick enough to disguise the light,” she explained. “Look how dusty the window is too!”

Owen saw the window had a bar latch and he pulled on it. It was stuck. They exchanged a look and then gripped it together, wrestling with the bar latch. It was tight as a drum.

“I couldn’t do it myself,” she gasped. “But I thought . . . the two of us!”

Owen squinted and frowned, pulling even harder. The latch finally shifted and swung back, knocking them both to the floor. She landed on top of him and they had to stifle nervous giggles.

“It’s open!” she squealed excitedly. Rushing back to the tapestry, she pushed it aside and shoved at the glass. The window groaned open. “Help me up!” she said.

Owen grabbed her around the waist and helped her onto the windowsill.

“It’s covered in vines.” She scooted around and grabbed a fistful of vines and began lowering herself down.

“How far down is it?” Owen asked, his worry growing.

She let go of the vines and dropped down. Her face was still visible from the window. She beamed at him. “Not far! Come on!”

Owen listened for sounds of anyone approaching in the corridor, but heard nothing. He climbed up onto the windowsill on his own and scooted off and jumped. There was brickwork on the ground outside and the shade from the vines helped conceal him and the Mortimer girl. He reached back and slowly shut the window, making sure to leave it ajar so they could get back in.

There was ivy everywhere, smothering the wall. She had a leaf of it sticking to her hair as she peered at the walled-in courtyard.

There was the well hole in the middle.

“Come on,” she whispered, taking his hand and starting to creep forward. They both looked and listened for any warning sounds. Their boots scuffed on the bricks. Owen gazed up and saw Ankarette’s tower. If she was looking out the window, she would be able to see them. The sun was high overhead, making their shadows small at their feet.

“I love wicked ideas like this one!” she said with delight, searching around for any signs they’d get caught.

They approached the well hole. It went down like steps. There were runners and gutters that led to the eight points, and he could discern a slight slope in the bricks. This well made the water run down into it.

“So, this is the cistern?” Owen said. They reached the outer rim and stared down into the huge dark circle.

“That’s what my grandpapa said. It collects rainwater during the winter. It goes under the palace quite a ways. That’s why there’s no dungeon. The palace was built on a cistern!”

Owen had never heard that word before she had first said it to him. The black gaping hole was wide enough that they could have stood across it without being able to reach each other. But he intuitively understood the structure. “It doesn’t lead to a water spring, which makes sense since the palace is on a hill. It would be hard to carry water up from the river every day.”

“Exactly!” she said excitedly. “The cistern catches the water and holds it.” She stepped down into the first ring of stones, trying to pull him along, but he yanked his hand away.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his stomach twisting with fear.

“I want to look down!” She tried to take his hand again, but he stepped back. “Oh, come on, Owen! Let’s just look!”

He was curious but cautious. His brush with danger outside the king’s chamber had rattled him, and he wasn’t feeling very courageous.