The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(87)

“Enjoying your evening?”

“Hmm,” I reply, too horrified to speak. All I can wonder is, does he really believe he’s dancing with one of the queen’s ladies? Or does he know it’s me? Did he somehow figure it out? I realize how stupid we were to think we could outsmart him. Blackwell knows everything that happens in his home. He knows everything that happens everywhere. I feel like a fly, fluttering on the edge of a spider’s web. I could escape, unharmed. But one false move and I’m dead.

“Good,” he says, seemingly oblivious to my terror. We dance along the hall, and I try my best to appear adept. Or at least not trip over my feet. But he seems oblivious to this as well. He barely seems to notice me. Instead, he looks around the room, craning his neck as if he’s searching for something. Finally, the music begins to wind down. He leads me back to the doors, only on the opposite side of the room from where the others stand waiting. I can see their anxious faces bobbing through the crowd, looking for me.

“It was a pleasure,” he says, releasing me. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some matters to attend to.” I nod and dip a curtsy, and Blackwell turns to leave. As I back away from him, he turns around. “Oh, and Miss Mowbray?”

“Y-yes?” I stammer, too frightened to remember to disguise my voice.

He pauses, and I see a flicker of something cross his eyes.

“If you’re going outside for some air, do be careful. As I understand it, we may have some unwanted guests this evening. But don’t worry. My men are on it.” Then he’s gone.

For a moment, my mind goes blank with terror. Does he know we’re here? Are we the unwanted guests? I don’t know. But I know I need to get the others out of here. Now. I don’t have time to wait until the masque starts, and I don’t have time to wait for Peter. And if I’ve got any hope of destroying the tablet, I’ve got to do that now, too.

I look to where the others are standing and catch John staring at me through the crowd. I’m sorry, I mouth. Then I turn around. And I run.

I hurtle down the stairs, into the entrance hall. Lining the walls is a series of arches, set about a foot or so into the stone. They’re purely decorative, all except one. I go to the third archway, place my hands against the flat stone surface, and push. It slides open to reveal a wide stone tunnel running the length of the great hall and beyond, all the way to the other side of the palace.

I gather my dress and squeeze through, pulling the door shut behind me.

“Schuyler,” I say. “Blackwell knows we’re here. Get the others out and meet me in the woods in ten minutes.”

The tunnel ends in a simple wooden door. On the other side is another staircase leading downstairs, into the dormitory. I pause a moment, listening for voices. It’s just a precaution; no one lives here anymore. But you never know.

I don’t hear anything, so I run down the stairs and into my old room. It’s somewhat of a shock to see it again. Tiny, windowless, dark. I never realized how much it looks like a prison cell. I haven’t been here in nearly a year, though you’d never know it. My bed is still unmade; one of my uniforms lies crumpled on the floor. There are a few weapons laid across the trunk at the end of the bed. It’s almost as if I never left.

Quickly, I pull the Azoth from the scabbard under my skirt. Strip off my dress, yank the jewels from my ears and the combs from my hair, grab my uniform off the floor. I don’t really want to wear it, but I can’t destroy the tablet in a dress. And the last thing I need is for someone else to mistake me for Cecily Mowbray.

I pull on the tight black trousers, the wrinkled white shirt, the knee-length black boots. Draw on the long tan leather coat, fasten the leather straps across my chest. After refastening the Azoth around my waist, I strap my weapons belt over my shoulder and holster everything I can find. A couple of large, serrated knives, a handful of daggers. An ax and an awl. It’s not as much as I’d like, but it’s better than nothing.

As I slip in the last dagger, my hand snags on something. I look down and realize I’m still wearing Humbert’s sapphire ring. I start to pull it off, and then remember what he told me. It’s a lucky ring. I keep it on, just in case.

I climb the stairs and follow the tunnel to one of several doors that lead outside. I can hear the bells in the courtyard clock begin to chime.

Nine o’clock.

I move quietly across the shadowy grounds, past the tennis court and the archery butts, the stables and the hedge maze, until I reach the edge of the grounds. It spreads out before me, vast and dark. I remember all the things I’ve faced out here and feel a tug of fear. There’s no telling who or what is prowling around tonight.

When I reach the forest, I take a sharp right, walking along the tree line, heading in the direction of the river. The last time I took this walk, I was on my way to my test. I still remember hearing the echoes of ships as they passed, the waves slapping against their hulls. The tomb is somewhere near the water.

I hear the tiniest rustle of leaves, and I whirl around, dagger drawn.

“Easy, bijoux. It’s only me.” Schuyler steps up beside me.

“What happened? Did they get out?”

He nods. “On the dock as we speak.”

I huff a sigh of relief. “What did you tell them?”

“The truth. Said Blackwell knew you were here, and you were off to get the tablet.”