The guards outside paid her an indifferent glance as the doors clicked shut at her back. She scurried on her way, hoping her eyes weren’t too wide, grateful for the baggy trousers hiding her shaking knees. A terrified squeak bubbled in her throat, but she swallowed it down and took the carpeted stairs one at a time, her unbloodied hand clutching at the polished railing. Her vision tunneled as she descended.

She was sure she would faint, that she’d tumble down the steps and wake the entire castle.

The landing was empty, the corridors dead to either side. She ignored the pulse pounding in her ears and stole through the entrance hall, past the ballroom’s double doors, and into a narrow servants’ passage. Not a soul passed as she ducked behind a tapestry hiding the stairs to the basement where laundresses were kept.

Kaia and Libby and all the others were asleep. Angry snores issued from Matron’s quarters.

Anji stepped lightly between the cots, past her own, then down a short hall and into the washroom. A latticed window cast half-moon light onto the toilets, the sinks, the beaten-copper basin. She dumped the length of silk into the tub and dunked her stained hand into a pail of clean water.

She scrubbed in silence. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton. Fingers clumsy and cold. Her breaths were clipped and rapid chokes. The low light made it difficult to tell if she’d removed all the blood. She held up her hand in the moon’s pale glow. Blood was still caked under her nails, but she’d rubbed her hand raw. It would have to do.

She snuck back into the sleeping chamber to her cot. Underneath was a box she’d never opened in front of Kaia and Libby—certainly not Matron. She eased it across the stone floor, lifted it, and set it on the thin sheets above. Inside were a thick bronze coin, a dagger in a leather sheath, and a clutch of silver Celdia pieces she’d managed to stow away, the hollow iron rings looped to a length of frayed rope.

The Celdia jingled as she pocketed it. She clutched it tight, staring around the darkened room, but the other laundresses didn’t stir. Matron’s snores droned on. A steady thread of air escaped Anji’s lips and she turned, grabbed her father’s coat from its peg, and said a silent goodbye to her friends as she slipped out the door.

The catacombs were an ancient maze, lit by sconces throwing flickering orange light to the dirt floor. Her breaths echoed off the rock walls, each scuff of her shoes like a hammer blow she swore the whole castle could hear.