Cloak of Night (Circle of Shadows #2) - Evelyn Skye Page 0,11
actions were, again, that horribly bizarre mind control where Broomstick’s old friends seemed completely normal except for their unflinching lack of morality and their dedication to the Dragon Prince’s war. Broomstick, on the other hand, could hardly breathe, let alone read the papers in his hands.
If he, Fairy, Spirit, and Wolf couldn’t assassinate Prince Gin, Kichona would cease to be Kichona.
Chapter Seven
Fairy darted through the Citadel’s grounds, keeping away from the paths and staying along the back sides of the buildings whenever possible. Her first stop was the mess hall. There was a boiler room beneath the main dining room that no one ever went to except the maintenance staff, and it was both out of the way and uncomfortable enough to be used as a prison cell.
She tiptoed to the back door of the mess hall and pressed her ear against it. It was relatively quiet on the other side. Thank the gods it wasn’t mealtime.
But Fairy didn’t go inside. If the boiler room was being used as a jail for the empress, the main access door from the inside would be locked and heavily guarded. Luckily, Fairy knew a secret way in. (She’d brought a boy down there once, but it had been way too steamy—and not in the good way.)
She knelt in the garden behind the mess hall and brushed the ground with her hands, searching. Mud caked in her fingernails, and a couple rocks scraped her.
She kept digging. It had to be around here somewhere.
The footsteps were nearly upon her before Fairy noticed. Her pulse flitted like a caged hummingbird.
Nines, she swore as she dove into the bushes. Hopefully it was dark enough that they wouldn’t see her, or if they did, she’d pass as the silhouette of one of the boulders scattered around the garden.
“It’s better than we could have imagined,” a woman was saying. “Who knew that when he swore loyalty to Zomuri, it would impact the people?”
“Still not as strong as direct mind control,” a man said as they approached where Fairy hid.
“No, but it’s achieved with zero effort. And I’m sure Emperor Gin will find a way to magnify Zomuri’s influence.”
They passed Fairy without noticing her, but panic spiked in her chest nevertheless. Something was happening to the people of Kichona because Zomuri was the official god now? What was it? She hadn’t felt it herself, or noticed it in Broomstick, Wolf, or Spirit. Maybe they were protected because Luna, as goddess of the taigas, was still their patron god.
Even so, she worried for everyone else.
Broomstick’s concern pulsed through their gemina bond. He’d sensed her worry, and now undulations like sound waves drummed through their connection, a continual question about whether he needed to come to her aid.
She sent back an arrow of reassurance. He’d understand that she was dismayed but not in danger.
Fairy had to get back to digging. Finding Empress Aki was more important than ever. They had to stop whatever it was that Prince Gin and Zomuri were doing to the kingdom, put the empress back on the throne, and make Sola, goddess of the sun, the people’s patron god once more.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Fairy started scraping through the mud again. This time, she found the wooden trapdoor she was looking for, the planks softened from years of being forgotten and buried in the earth. She pried it open.
A blast of dank air greeted her. Fairy cast an owl spell, the skin around her eyes tightening as night vision took hold, and she slipped into the darkness and cobwebs of the abandoned staircase.
Soon, the humidity was so heavy, it was hard to breathe. The steps ended in what appeared to be a wall. It was actually the back of a massive boiler, though, installed at some point in the past for additional heat but with the side effect of rendering the emergency exit stairwell virtually unusable. That is, except for someone as tiny as Fairy.
She paused here and listened for any sign of guards or a prisoner. The room was filled with the labored pumps of steam through the pipes that crisscrossed the walls and ceiling. Fairy released her owl spell—she couldn’t see anyway, with the heavy mist clouding the air—and cast a new one to allow her to hear better.
As her ears tingled, she began to discern the sounds layered beneath the churning of the boiler. There were kitchen workers’ footsteps in the mess hall above. Rats skittering inside the walls. Moths clustered in the