Chapter 421: The Descent

Chapter 420: The Descent

Lyria’s POV

I did not grant my maids the opportunity to protest.

I merely followed the maid, bidding my own remain behind with a quiet gesture of my hand. Bridget appeared to have a great deal she wished to say, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes burning with objection. But she held her tongue.

I followed the maid, who led me through corridors familiar enough at first, the well-worn passages of the palace, the same I had walked a numerous times before. But then she turned, and we proceeded by an entirely different way.

This route did not lead towards the Queen’s chambers, as I had supposed it should. For it was always there that I had met with Her Majesty before.

Yet perhaps she had resolved to change the place of meeting on this occasion, particularly given the hour, and her evident wish that none among the suitors should learn of it.

And so I kept quiet and followed the maid. These passages, too, were known to me — I had been punished often enough to labour about them — though I thought it most unlikely the Queen should make use of, so wretched a corridor as this, for the place stank.

This was a servants’ passage. It led, in the main, to where the horse dung was kept before its sale by servants in need of some small additional income. The stench was overpowering, and I pressed my sleeve to my nose, though it only helped me a little.

I had always hated coming this way, and had I known this to be our route, I should have asked my maids to prepare some manner of covering beforehand.

The maid, however, appeared entirely unaffected by it. She walked on without pause, and I followed, my thoughts turning over what this might signify.

We emerged at length into the open air, and I drew what breath of cleaner air I could, though it did nothing, the smell being everywhere about us. Actually...it was worse still here. The barrels in which the dung was kept stood lined against the walls, and I knew the contents to be fresh.

Again I wondered at the meaning of it all. The maid led me towards a carriage, old, worn, and plainly never intended for any person of consequence.

"What i-is the meaning of this?" I asked at last.

"I am not at liberty to say, Your Highness. I am under strict instruction only to bring you," she replied.

I did not move towards the carriage.

Something here was amiss. Something that sat ill with me entirely. The Queen had summoned me before, certainly — but always within the palace walls. Why, then, should she send for me in such a manner as this?

Perhaps there was something I had failed to take note of?

Perhaps this was some ploy to draw me out. And yet I knew well enough who this maid was, she belonged to the queen and I recalled, too, that Her Majesty had made plain at our last meeting that she intended to summon me again. I suspected this to be that very summons, and yet still...

"Your Highness," the maid said, a note of impatience entering her voice.

Still I did not move. Had I only thought to bring my dagger, I might have felt less afraid. Or had I brought my maids with me... I paused.

A servant nearby was gathering barrels — barrels of horse dung, by the smell of it. He was not alone; another assisted him, smaller in stature, and though both kept their heads bowed low, I knew perfectly well who they were.

I very nearly laughed.

I could not understand how they had managed it with such speed. They were dressed as servants of the stables, and yet I knew them to be no such thing.

And in knowing they were near me, I found the courage required, and entered the carriage.

The carriage was old indeed. Its seats were worn, its fabric faded, and it carried the smell of dung about it still. I kept a hand pressed to my nose. The maid entered after me, gave her instructions to the driver, and the carriage began to move.

It wobbled as it went. The road was uneven, and the carriage lurched with every turning of the wheels. The maid remained silent, and I did not attempt to draw her into conversation.

Some minutes passed.

Then the road grew worse still. The carriage bounced and jolted, and I gripped the edge of my seat to keep from being thrown about within it. Whatever road this might be, it had not been maintained in some considerable time.

At last we came to a stop, and the driver announced our arrival.

The maid opened the door and descended, and I followed shortly after.

I frowned, taking in the building before me.

It was vast, and had once been impressive.

It appeared to have belonged, at some former time, to a person of considerable wealth and standing. Yet vines now grew thick upon its walls, and it had plainly been neglected some while.

There were guards posted about, though dressed with a casualness that belied their office. I noted, upon several of them, the royal insignia.

The maid led me within.

The interior was lit, though the windows stood locked and barred. She led me through a narrow corridor, upon which I observed no ornament whatsoever.

The building had the aspect of emptiness entire. Only a few candelabra offered any light at all.

We continued through a succession of corridors and turnings, which I took care to mark, and came at length upon a staircase.

The maid descended, and I followed her.

The stairs seemed to be endless, I lost count of their number entirely. And the further we descended, the heavier the air became, not with damp, nor mould, but with a smell I recognised all too well.

Blood.

My stomach turned within me, and I saw, in that instant, Patricia upon her bed...dead, with stab wounds upon her flesh.

I clenched my hand into a fist, letting my nail bite into the flesh of my palm, when suddenly a scream rang out.

But it was not the scream that gave me pause. It was the laugh that followed it, one I also knew far too well.

I forced myself onward. The maid continued ahead, entirely unmoved by the sounds, and I followed until we reached the foot of the stair.

The maid pushed open a door, then stepped aside, gesturing that I should enter.

I knew I had no choice in the matter, and so I did.

"At last," a voice said, from her seat upon a chair, a smile upon her face.