Still, I feel uneasy, sending him alone inside. But he is a survivor, just like I am, and he’s been in too many sticky situations to count. He always finds a way out.
With a grin, Pan pats his shirt pocket where I stuffed several coins with Ulysede’s mark and then disappears into the castle.
I wait until he’s gone before refocusing on our own path. Jarek holds his finger to his mouth, but I don’t need a reminder. We move along in the hedge, all the way to the steps down. When it’s safe, I weave a ball of light and let it float ahead to illuminate the narrow tunnel.
Jarek curses as he stoops to fit. His shoulders graze either side. “No wonder we didn’t know about this one. No worthwhile soldier can fit through it.”
“Right. The big brave warrior is afraid of tight spaces. I forgot.” I’ve never seen Jarek as agitated as moving through the wall into Bellcross. “It’s not long.” And we might have bigger worries ahead. “If Annika talked, the sanctum might be guarded too.”
“Those guards back there were not for us. They are for whoever is in that room above. A prisoner, I imagine.”
It dawns on me. “In my old room. Who do you think it is?” Maybe Wendeline? I pray she is alive.
“It is not our concern.” We reach the end of the tunnel and the stone wall. Copying Annika, I yank on the lever with both hands. The ceiling above shifts with that familiar scraping stone sound. I move to climb through, but Jarek seizes my hips and pulls me back. “No” is all he says before hauling himself through.
The sanctum is empty and dark.
Not a single flame burns. The lingering scent of incense is gone, and urns of flowers hold shriveled blooms. They look weeks past their prime, forgotten. An eeriness slips over my spine, something ominous hanging in the air. There were casters living and worshiping within the sanctum when I was here. Women who had nothing to do with Wendeline’s lies and treachery.
There’s no sign of them now.
“Leave your dress behind this pew. We’ll come back for it later,” Jarek instructs, shedding his fine jacket to reveal the leather vest and the arsenal strapped to his form.
The guy is a walking lethal weapon, and he is here, by my side, putting himself between me and danger at all times. It still feels foreign. “Thanks for coming with me, Jarek.”
“As if I had much choice with your stubborn ass.”
I shimmy out of the long skirt to reveal my own breeches and tunic. While the need to look noble worked in the castle, blending in as a commoner will allow us better movement outside of it.
I look up to find him watching me, but he quickly shifts, adjusting his cloak. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
His hand is on the door when it stalls.
“What is it? Do you hear something outside?”
He hesitates. “This face of yours … the one you used to wear. I have seen it before.”
I frown. “Where?”
“In my dreams. Nightly, since we entered Ulysede.” He peers over his shoulder at me, concern in his expression. “What does that mean?”
“I have no idea. What kind of dream?”
He shoots me a knowing look.
“Oh.” Oh. “If it’s since Ulysede, then it has to be the nymphs messing with your head somehow. Maybe Lucretia.” But how does she know my old face? Today is the first day I’ve worn the mask.
He curses under his breath. “But why? And does it not concern you that they can get into our heads?”
“Gesine said the nymphs like chaos.” What they think they’ll achieve by filling my commander’s head with visions of Romy Watts, I can’t guess. Maybe this is something innocent. But I don’t need Jarek worried about dreams. I waggle my eyebrows. “So, you’re having dirty thoughts about me, huh?”
His deep, dark chuckle vibrates in my chest as his sooty eyes rake over my face, rolling over my mouth. “Maybe don’t mention this to the king. I’d prefer not to die the moment he hears about it.”
“I wouldn’t want that. How could I tease you mercilessly then?” I poke him in the ribs, earning his smirk as he pushes open the door.
Together we stroll out into Cirilea’s city streets.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
ATTICUS
“How do you manage to stomp your foot with each step and not look like a beast walking?” I muse. “You must teach me.”
Annika’s angry footfalls grow even louder, echoing through the hall. “Neilina agreed to this brainless proposal of yours?”