I’m really, really hoping this is just a small antechamber and not crypts 2.0. Sure enough, my fingers brush over stone, and I’m touching a wall. “Here we go.”
I run my hands up and down the stonework in the dark, and to my surprise, there’s something protruding—a door handle? I turn it and the door swings outward.
Light spills in.
72
A group of women sit in the room in front of us. It’s a library of some kind, the walls filled with books and scroll-nooks. Chairs are seated near a fireplace, and one woman sews on an embroidery pedestal while another holds a book in her lap. A third woman stands as we stumble inside. She’s got a long, thick braid and wears a pale lavender dress that looks incredibly ornate and very expensive. There’s a circlet on her brow. Her pregnant belly is rounded and in her arms is a child of no more than one or two years old.
Her eyes narrow at the sight of us. “Guards. Bar the secret passage and arrest these intruders.”
“Hi,” I say, waving. “So this is terribly awkward, but Aron told us to come here.”
A man rushes out of the room and I can hear him bellowing for guards. Markos and Kerren pull closer to me, holding their swords, while Solat tries to shove me behind him to protect me.
Sweet thought, but no.
I shove him back and take a step forward. “We mean no harm, okay? We just had to get away from the Adassian army and Aron told us there was a secret passage in the crypts because the ugly statue was dedicated to him. I swear we’re not here to hurt anyone.”
The woman holds her baby closer to her chest and takes a step back as guards flood into the room. “If you mean Aron of the Cleaver sent you, then you must be working for the Adassians.” She holds her baby’s head protectively and steps behind one of the guards. “Take them to the dungeons. My husband will want to know how they managed to sneak in.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” one man says, moving forward.
Markos raises his sword and I put my hand on his arm. We’re not attacking anyone. “So this is awkward. I think you’re talking about Aron of the Cleaver—Hedonism Aron, who’s shacked up with the Adassians and is attacking you guys, right? That’s not who I’m with. My Aron is the Aron of Arrogance. He’s just outside, creating a diversion so we could get away. He’s come here to join the Yshremi army.”
The woman—the queen—pauses. “Your Aron?” She arches an eyebrow.
Aw shit. I might have just given myself away as his anchor. I ignore the flutter of panic in my chest. “I’m a devotee,” I lie. “But I’m telling the truth—there’s a second Aspect of Aron here, and he’s fighting his way toward your gates even now. If you don’t believe me, look outside.”
The queen gives us a tight look. She hands her child to another one of her women, who scuttles out of the room with the baby, accompanied by a few guards. More file in to take their place, and the room feels stifling.
“Give us your weapons,” she says in an imperious voice. “You’re surrounded and there’s no hope for your plot to work.”
I gesture at Kerren and the others to do so. “There’s no damn plot. We’re here because my Aron wants to fight the other Aron and he said the Yshremi are faithful to him. I promise, just go look outside.”
The queen exchanges a look with one of her guards. She leans in close to him, whispering as others take our weapons away. I give up my quarterstaff and grimace as I pull the shield out of the front of my dress. Damn thing must have cut into my sides somewhat awful, because my skin hurts. I hear the word “husband” mentioned, and “front lines” and the queen’s expression grows even more pinched. She seems to age in a matter of seconds. But she straightens, looks at me, and then flicks a hand, indicating she wishes to be followed. “Take the woman. We will see if this is truth or not.”
“No,” Kerren says, trying to push in front of me. “She stays with us—”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, putting up my hand before he can get himself killed. Or me killed. “We have nothing to hide. It’s fine. I promise.”
“If Aron finds out,” Markos begins, warning in his voice.