The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,80

of the guard is dismissing the soldiers, telling them to return to their camp outside the city walls. There’ll be no more training today, and their expedition has been postponed. A half-hearted cheer greets this news, and the lower officers lead the men out of the castle through the city to their makeshift encampment.

“As soon as they’re all out, we’re locking the portcullis again,” he tells Cal. “No one is to leave or be admitted without my permission. You must be able to do your work, sir, without this infernal din and all these comings and goings. A woman died here in this yard last night and these oafs are tramping all over it.”

“Thank you,” Cal tells him. “We will need to search the castle again, I believe—every corner, every cellar.”

“As soon as this is complete,” the captain promises, and bows.

In the far stable Jander’s horse stands in its stall, chewing on hay, a blanket warming its back. Cal’s and Rhema’s horses are also there, also at rest. But Jander is nowhere to be seen. The stable hands say they saw him pack a small bag, perhaps to go somewhere. Running away? they joke.

Cal frowns. It’s not funny. Jander is part of his team; he’s one of them. He belongs here.

“See if you can find him,” he tells Rhema, and she nods, walking away quickly to look for their friend.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Caledon

Although the guards say they haven’t seen Jander leave the castle, Cal isn’t convinced that he’s still there. Rhema organizes the other Guild-sanctioned apprentices into a search party, starting with the physician’s chambers, but Jander remains elusive.

Jander is an observer, a keen student of human behavior. He isn’t strong enough for hand-to-hand conflict, and a stocky soldier could easily take him down. But he’s wily and would have been weighing his chances to leave undetected. Maybe, Cal thinks, Jander’s been waiting for this opportunity. He has little interest in the long trip north if their only work there is to break up skirmishes and keep order. There’s a mystery to be solved here in Mont, and after last night’s failure, he may have decided to try his luck alone.

Jander has his own mission, of course, that transcends the threat from Stavin. The boy wants to break the curse of King Phras that has plagued him so long. So where is he headed, exactly? Somewhere his sharp wits will count for more than skill with weapons and sheer physical strength? Jander is smart, but that won’t save him from the claws of a possessed wild animal—or from a shapeshifting demon, its hands sprouting poisonous knives with obsidian blades.

Or from the Obsidian Monk, whoever that might be.

Rhema is back, and she bites her lip in worry.

“No luck yet,” she tells Cal. “I’ll go upstairs to the royal residences, but—”

“I know.” Jander’s not a person to seek out the powerful and the public. Cal takes his own search below stairs, through the hall keep’s vast and bustling kitchens, through the frigid cellars where wine and dried meats are stored. Another apprentice is ordering the cooks to open every cupboard and pantry, as though Jander might be hiding in one.

Cal follows the cellar passageway that leads to a hidden door, beyond which lie the stairs to the Queen’s Secret. Moriah’s holding spell is still working: The panel disguising the door won’t budge. Cal circles back to another long passageway, the castle dungeon in one direction, and its catacombs in another. He has less-than-pleasant memories of this dungeon—his dank cell; the sounds of men moaning or screaming; the clank of heavy keys and thick doors; the rustle of rats in the damp straw. He spent time in a cell waiting—expecting—to be put to death. Instead he was released, after Lilac accepted a punishment on his behalf, marrying Hansen and uniting their two kingdoms.

The door to the catacombs is solid, the iron handle cold to the touch. When Cal pulls on it, he’s surprised that it creaks open. These subterranean chambers are Jander’s kind of place, Cal thinks, but before he can go down there to investigate, he needs a lit taper. The catacombs are dark as a winter night, and colder than one, as well, the damp of the season settling in the long staircase and caverns.

With a flame lighting the way, Cal quickens his pace down the stone stairs. He should have come here first, and the fact that the door was unlocked—and so easily opened—suggests that Cal isn’t the first person to seek