had a friend who went missing. People say she might have worked in Castle Hades as a servant. Her name was Alice.”
“I don’t know her.” An immediate answer.
My heart sank. I supposed I was hoping he’d say that he knew her, and she was alive and well and working in the kitchens. Then again, he didn’t seem like the type of person who would learn servants’ names.
While I stewed in my disappointment, we fell into a deep, unnatural silence. The sun slipped down below the horizon, and darkness began to gather.
The train slid to a stop, parallel to the river. When I saw the spindly gold towers of Thorn Island Palace, I had to smile at the beauty. The palace loomed just on the other side of a bridge to my left, spectacular in the moonlight.
Just as I was standing, a man in a dark suit opened our carriage door, and motioned for us to step out.
I crossed out of the train into the cool night air, breathing it in. The river formed a sort of moat around the palace grounds, making it into an island.
While Castle Hades was all cold and gray , this palace was a delicate network of golden stone, of ornate carvings and narrow spires that reached for the skies.
A wooden bridge spanned the moat, and my heels clacked over it as we crossed, side by side. The glorious silk of my dress skimmed over my legs as I walked. A cool breeze rushed off the river, toying with my cloak. And along with it came the masculine scent of the count—iron and woodsmoke.
At the other end of the bridge, a stone path led to wooden doors with elaborate iron filigrees. Already, I could hear the music from inside the palace. Even if I was on a spy mission with my worst enemy, with the Angel of Death himself—I loved parties.
Clovian guards stood on either side of the door. Torchlight danced over the palace’s ornate carvings and gargoyles. Behind the guards stood two gargantuan statues—monstrous-looking stone carvings with hulking muscles and grimaces.
When we got to the doors, I read the names carved into them: Ohyah and Hahyah. Nodding at the count, the guards pulled the doors open. The music hit me first—low, sensual horns and rhythmic drum beats. A woman was singing about the Fallen.
You’d better watch out for the Fallen
Castle Hades is calling
The lions are gone, the ravens are dead
The king and queen have lost their heads …
Then, as we stepped inside, I took in the splendor around me. The ceiling rose two stories above us, with high windows depicting images of serpents and stars, trees and orchards. Around the perimeter of the great hall were statues of nude women in various ecstatic poses, mouths open with pleasure. One statue appeared to show a woman having an erotic experience with a snake coiled around her thighs.
Everywhere I looked, men and women were dancing, kissing, enjoying themselves. I took comfort in some of the raven tattoos I saw. Mortal Albians like me. But they weren’t the kind of women I grew up around. These women glowed like stars, with jewels threaded through their hair. Their skin shimmered like pearls. Not of the immediate royal family, since they were all dead, but distant cousins or relatives.
But as soon as they realized the count had entered the hall, all eyes were on him.
A hush fell over the room. Even in his dark cloak, the count commanded attention.
Two bejeweled women sidled up to him, blushing as they drew closer.
I was practically invisible. And that was a wonderful thing if I was going to spy. If I drifted away from him, it would be painfully easy to go unnoticed here. As I slipped into the crowd, I plucked a champagne flute off a passing tray.
But now, I had to decide what information I really wanted to give the count. On the one hand, if the Free Men were trying to stop murders in my city, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. On the other, if I failed to deliver, the count would throw me out on my arse. Money gone, left to the Rough Boys. And I’d never find out the truth about Alice.
Ernald would tell me to look out for myself first—not to trust the Free Men either. The aristocrats like them had never done anything for East Dovren or the slums. Not before the war, nor after. They hoarded the wealth and left nothing for us. And annoying