“Now who’s the cynic?” Amon said. “Maybe you need to find yourself some honest eyes and ears.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh!” Raisa said, stricken. “I’m sorry. You said you have to get up.” Half an hour into reform, she was being as self-centered and inconsiderate as always. She tried to ignore the voice in her head that said, That’s what queens do.

“Come on, let’s go.” Seizing one of the torches, she led the way down the tunnel, trying to ignore the rustlings of rats and the reflected eyes of the creatures that stared down at her from the imperfections in the walls and scattered ahead of her at each turning.

Amon had no trouble keeping up, with his long legs. “How did this passageway get here?” he asked. “And who else knows about it?”

Raisa swiped a cobweb from her face. “I found it after I came back from Demonai,” she said. “It’s really old. I don’t know who made it, and I don’t think anybody knows about it. I haven’t told anyone but you.”

At last they reached the roughly circular stone chamber that meant the end of their journey.

“Here we are,” Raisa said, setting the torch into a bracket by the door. She slid back the panel and pushed aside the wardrobe she’d positioned in front of the entrance.

“Where are we?” Amon asked, mystified.

“You’ll see,” Raisa said, picking her way through a minefield of shoes and boots, pushing aside fluffy dresses on racks.

Her bedroom was chilly and dark, the fire dying in the hearth, her nightgown still laid out on the bed.

Amon emerged from the closet behind her and glanced about. His eyes widened and he looked a little panicked. “Raisa…is this your bedroom?”

“Yes,” Raisa said in an offhand fashion. She crossed to the hearth and poked at the fire, laying on another log.

“Blood of the demon,” Amon swore. “There’s a secret passage in the walls leading to your bedroom? That doesn’t worry you?”

She looked up at him. “No. Why should it?” In truth, it hadn’t. She’d been focused on the convenience of having a means to come and go without passing under the eyes of everyone in the busy palace corridors.

“Somebody made this,” Amon said. “Who else might know about it?”

“This apartment has been shut up for hundreds of years,” Raisa said. “Maybe a thousand. You should have seen the way it looked before we cleaned it up. Someone made it, but whoever it was would’ve died a long time ago.”

Amon was examining the sliding panel, running his hands over the wood molding surrounding it. “You should have it boarded it up, Raisa. Close it off permanently.”

“You worry too much,” Raisa said. “I’ve been here three months and no monsters have come through.”