Chantress Fury - Amy Butler Greenfield Page 0,54

knocked on the heavy door.

No one opened it.

I knocked again, harder. “It’s Lucy,” I called through the keyhole.

Nat didn’t answer.

Maybe he isn’t there, I told myself. Maybe he’s asleep.

But there was another, more awful possibility that I couldn’t ignore. Maybe he knows I’m here but he’s done with me.

I knocked twice more, so loudly that I was half-afraid I’d wake Penebrygg in the inner room, but no one came.

I forced myself to turn away. No matter how desperate I felt, I couldn’t stand there all night, not when I was needed elsewhere.

The rain lashed at me as I crossed the dark courtyard again. I wasn’t giving up, I told myself. I might have to wait until later, but I was still determined to talk to Nat, to ask for one more chance to set things right between us. Deep inside, however, I couldn’t help fearing that I’d already been given that chance—and I’d thrown it away.

Weary and aching with sadness, I set off toward the guardrooms to see Captain Knollys, hoping he might have some new clue about Melisande’s whereabouts. Much to his frustration and mine, however, Knollys had nothing to report.

“There’s no sign of Melisande anywhere,” he said. “Or of that servant of hers. And no one’s approached those rooms since we went there this morning. Whoever—or whatever—those women are, they’ve gone to ground.”

It wasn’t good news, but I knew I needed to bring it to the King anyway. It had been many hours since I’d last seen him, and he would be wondering what progress I’d made.

It took me another half hour to find where the new State Rooms were located, in temporary quarters by the tiltyard. When I arrived there, everything was in confusion. The most valuable trappings had been carried across from the old State Rooms, but the Brussels tapestries were still rolled tight, the King’s gilded throne sat forgotten in a corner, and paintings by Holbein, Raphael, and Gentileschi were stacked against the walls. Crates of documents were piled up everywhere, and mobs of clerks and secretaries were scrabbling to put them in order.

The King, haggard but alert, touched iron with me, then drew me into a small alcove filled with yet more crates, six Turkey carpets, and an ivory-inlay writing desk. “Your captive—has she been found?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said. “But my men are still doing their best to trace her. And I may have found another clue that will help us.”

“A clue?” He looked hopeful.

“Yes. Here, let me draw it for you.” With the pen and paper he offered me, I sketched out the joined snakes. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“No. Not at all.” His blue eyes clouded. “Should I have?”

“Not necessarily.” I folded up the sketch and tucked it into my sleeve, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Don’t let it worry you. I’ll work it out. But perhaps you could tell me what’s going on elsewhere? I hear there’s been another sighting of a kraken.”

“Three at least, by now,” said the King. “The only bright spot is that it seems that the attacks are slacking off elsewhere. As far as we can tell, we’re bearing the brunt of things here in London.”

Was that because our enemy was bent on destroying the country’s seat of power? Or was there another reason? I thought of how the sea serpent had honed in on my singing, how the kraken had come to just that part of the river where I had been working magic, how the river kept calling to me.

Could it be that I was the target?

The King was skeptical. “If you’re the target, then why aren’t all the monsters lining up outside Whitehall? And what about those mermaids that came before, and the attacks at Portsmouth?”

The Lord High Admiral huffed up to us, holding up his iron ring. “Your Majesty, if I might have a word?”

“Of course.” The King gestured for him to speak.

The Admiral coughed, glanced at me, then shook his head. “In private, Your Majesty.”

“Very well.” The King motioned for us both to follow him.

The Admiral stayed where he was. “In private, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll find somewhere,” the King said, not catching his meaning.

The Admiral skirted around me and barked into the King’s ear. “I want to speak to you without her.”

The King stopped still. So did I. So did half the clerks and secretaries in the room. The Admiral may have meant to be discreet, but his voice carried.

“You wish to speak to

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