The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(80)

“How will they get inside?”

“The Observatory Deck,” I say with pride. “Via post-balloon.”

He struggles to smile. “Your idea?”

“Yes.”

“But I need to go find the route to the Observatory Deck, so I can get there easily before the midmorning star and make sure the door from the deck to the interior is unlocked and unobstructed. They’ll arrive and wait until everyone is at the Ascension Ball to attack.”

He remains silent. I try to search his eyes for what he thinks about my plan. “What do you think?”

“It’s smart—and unexpected.”

His encouragement fills up the tiny holes of doubt inside me. He tries to sit up but leans back against the pillows again.

“Here. Stay still.”

“How did you get here without her knowing?” he asks.

“Auguste sent me and the teacup dragons as a wedding gift.”

He stiffens.

A silence crackles between us, the noise of the fire in the hearth heightening it.

“You’ve seen him?” Rémy’s swollen mouth purses.

My stomach becomes a tangle of nerves.

“He’s been working with the Iron Ladies. Supplying them with information and help.”

“You forgave him?” he asks.

“I took his help. Now, rest.”

“Go open that door,” he says, then traces a shaky finger along the edge of my face. “I missed you.”

“And I you.” I nuzzle my face into his shoulder and try to hold back the storm of tears wanting to break loose from my chest.

I lie there until his breathing slows and he drifts off to sleep and I know that he’s going to be all right. But before I head back out again to find the route to the Observatory Deck, the bedroom door eases open.





“Camille,” a voice whispers from behind.

I leap up from the bed at the sound of my name. It’s the servant from earlier. The one who took Zo’s dead body.

“It’s me.”

And just like that, I finally recognize her voice.

“It’s Bree.”

I race to her and wrap my arms around her. “I knew it,” I whisper into her hair. “I knew when you were trying to show me around the apartments. Your eyes. I felt it. But I had to keep my disguise.”

“I couldn’t tell you at first. I didn’t want to alert anyone and didn’t think I’d be able to keep it all together,” she says. “But after what happened with Zo... I wanted to get rid of the body first and make sure it was safe.”

I squeeze her tighter. “What happened to you?” I comb over her, touching her cheeks and arms. “Are you all right? I was so worried. They told me they put you in a starvation box.”

“They did, but then when you disappeared from the palace, Elisabeth Du Barry came and got me out.”

“She did?” I say, shock rattling me. Elisabeth Du Barry did something that didn’t benefit herself?

Rémy coughs.

“Who is there?” she asks.

“Rémy.”

Fear flashes in her eyes. “She will know.”

I squeeze her hand.

“She has the guards lash him every few hours. If they find him gone, they will search the entire palace for him.”

“That’s why we have to work fast,” I say. “Do you know where I can find Arabella? I need to see her, then get to the Observatory Deck.”

Bree looks startled by the question. “Well... yes. She’s right next door.”

“What?” I gasp. I glance into a slit in the bed-curtains at Rémy. His mouth is slack with sleep, and the blood on his bandages is drying. His wounds no longer leak fresh blood.

“He will be fine here,” Bree replies. “We’ll close the bed-curtains. Any servants who come in will assume it’s you. I’ll make sure he remains hidden. Give strict orders to the other servants—as I’m a premier servant now—not to disturb you.”

I nod, trusting her.

Knots of pressure and panic tighten throughout my body as I place the lace-skin mask Du Barry gave me back on my face. The anticipation of seeing Arabella again—of having help—is almost too great.

“Let’s go. The apartments are connected.”

We slip through a network of servant corridors. I hold my breath until Bree stops walking. What if Arabella is ill like Valerie? What if she is unable to help?

“Ready to go in?” Bree waves me forward.

My stomach knots. “Where are we?”

“One of Sophia’s tea salons.”

“This is where she keeps her?”

Bree nods.

I imagine a sleeping Sophia passed out, smelling of champagne and macarons and flowers, and Arabella being forced to tend to her beauty work. Bree fumbles with her keys until she finds the right one. She jams it in and turns. The door opens. A chill drifts down my spine.

The room is tiny and dark with a single night-lantern whizzing about and a low fire in the hearth.

“Arabella?” I whisper.

Bree closes the door behind us. “We have to be quick. One of Her Majesty’s favorite and most loyal servants oversees her.”

I nod and tiptoe closer to the bed.