Anna Neven might have given her vow to the Vespers. But Clem Madigan’s allegiance remained to be seen.

34

We rose early with the sun and prepared to ascend, leaving our tents pitched, as if we would soon return for them. The Vespers’ and the duke’s servants would remain behind, tending to the camp. I didn’t carry much: a satchel stuffed to the brim with several changes of clothes, green apples, a wedge of cheese, the journal with my exposé notes, an inkwell and quill. My father had snuck a dagger to me, and it was hidden in its leather sleeve, tucked away in my boot.

I walked with the Vespers’ party through the long, frosted grass, my father, mother, and Imonie leading the way. We were silent, pensive. All too soon we reached the mountain entrance.

Two great wooden doors sat before us, thrice the height of a woman, arched and latticed with iron. I thought about how long it had been since the passage or the lift inside had been used.

“And how are we to open these doors?” Lennox asked with a huff.

“The doors will open on their own, since all six of us are together again. Emrys, the seventh, is already here, of course,” Mazarine said from the back of the line. “Approach the doors, Ambrose.”

My father closed the distance between us and the entrance, and just as the troll predicted, the doors creaked open on their own, streams of dirt cascading from the stone lintel above. The mountain seemed to rumble, as if recognizing the broken court that stood at its feet. The twin doors came to a rest, gaping open like a mouth, eager to swallow us. The passage was dark; I could smell damp stone and rich earth and rotting wood.

“Brin,” the countess said crisply, pivoting on her heel to regard the troll. “Why don’t you lead the way?”

Mazarine snorted, but moved to the head of the line, passing my father with a polite nod.

“Do you need fire?” he asked, but she didn’t answer.

She stepped into the darkness of the passage and vanished, and we waited, uncertain.

“Should we follow her?” Nura whispered from behind me.

No sooner did she speak the words than fire bloomed in the passage. Torches bracketed on both walls ignited one by one.

We followed Mazarine’s path. I could feel the heaviness in the air—cold, quiet, sentient air. The floor beneath our boots was swept clean, set with stone. The walls on either side were recessed and carved with moons and suns and people. Relics of the duchy that had once dwelled here.

This place felt like a tomb.