An animagus is nearby. In the palace complex. During Deliverance Week.

“Out of the way!” someone calls, and I realize I’ve blocked his horse cart. I step aside, still studying my surroundings, racking my memory for anyone who might have brought an animagus along with them. Ambassador Songbird does not have a sorcerer among his staff. None of the condes or condesas I know of keep one for an adviser. The only animagus who is allowed unfettered access to the palace is Storm, Elisa’s brother-in-law, and he is far, far away.

I hurry into the monastery, more desperate than ever to reach Rosario.

22

Now

THE sanctuary is more crowded than usual, with stable boys in work frocks sitting side by side with noble ladies in fine silks. The altar reeks of burned blood and rose petals, for many choose to perform the Sacrament of Pain during Deliverance Week.

I search the faces, my gaze lingering on anyone in priest’s robes, hoping to see Father Nicandro. But he is not here.

I’m almost to the archival room when a priest steps in front of me, blocking my way. “Can I help you, child?” he says.

I don’t recognize him, so I have no idea if I can trust this man, but time is short and I’m desperate, so I say, “Where is Father Nicandro?”

“Father Nicandro is unavailable at the moment.” Meaning, He’s the head priest and you seem like no one, so go away. “Perhaps—”

“Tell him Lady Red Sparkle Stone is here to see him on a matter of grave urgency.”

He opens his mouth, closes it. Ponders the white streak in my hair. “Very well,” he says. “Have a seat on the bench.” He turns before I can reply.

I adjust my new sword and sit. The bench grows hard beneath my rear. It feels as though an eternity passes, though I’m sure it’s only a few moments, before Nicandro comes shuffling my way, aided by his cane.

“Red,” he says, voice low. “I did not expect to see you. Please come. Hurry.”

He guides me past the archives and into a private prayer chapel. Candles line the walls. Kneeling cushions litter the floors. The arched ceiling is low, trapping heat and the scent of the rose petals that are scattered everywhere. This is where the priests themselves come to pray, when they need a respite from their flock. For now, at least, we are alone.

“Now tell me,” says Nicandro.

“I was cut from the Guard for being a ‘distraction’ to the boys.”

The priest frowns. “That reeks of political maneuvering.”

“Yes. Someone got to Sergeant DeLuca, convinced him that cutting me was a good idea. Rosario’s supporters have been eliminated one by one. I fear for him.”

“I’ll get a message to him at once.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait here.” He turns to leave.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“There’s an animagus in the city. Maybe right here in the palace.”