But his smile faded fast when Corene turned to stare at him. “There’s a body,” she said. “We think it’s human.”
“What?” Liramelli exclaimed, pushing past Melissande, who looked ready to vomit. “It can’t be!”
“Of course it can,” Corene said. “Someone could have come down here to explore, and then tripped and fell. Hit his head and died.”
“His heart could have given out suddenly,” Steff said. “That happens sometimes.”
“Any number of things could have happened, but I don’t think you want to be the ones to examine the remains,” Foley said.
“But I do,” Liramelli said, brushing past Foley and Corene. “Whoever he is, I probably know him—”
“Her, I believe,” Foley said gently. “Judging by the length and style of the hair.”
Liramelli gasped and took two running steps before falling to her knees at the side of the body. “Bring the candle closer,” she said, and Foley obliged.
Corene and Steff crowded as near as they could, but in this light, from this angle, it was hard to see much. The face was so dark and bloated that the features were hard to make out, but the hair certainly seemed to belong to a woman. It was a fine wheat-blond color caught in a long braid and tied with a ribbon. The rest of her body was concealed by a white blanket that the woman appeared to have drawn up to her chin in an effort to stay warm. When Liramelli peeled the coverlet back, Corene could catch glints of gold at the woman’s throat and around the wrist, so this had obviously been a person of wealth. She appeared to be wearing traditional Malinquese clothing—a jacket and trousers—mostly black with random splashes of white.
“That’s blood,” Steff said suddenly. Corene barely had to turn her head to look at him, he was standing that close to her. “On her clothes. I thought it was a pattern in the cloth, but it’s blood.”
Foley nodded. “I think so, too.”
“She bled to death down here?” Corene asked sharply. “Was she—was she murdered?”
“That,” Foley said, “or she took her own life.”
“Either way, it’s awful,” Corene said. “I wonder who she is.”
Liramelli came shakily to her feet, murmuring a thank-you when Foley reached out to steady her. “It’s Sarona,” she said in a small voice. “She often wore her hair like that, and I recognize the necklace.”
“Sarona?” Corene repeated. “The woman everyone assumed ran off a few ninedays ago?”
Liramelli nodded. She looked as if she was trying very hard not to dissolve into hysteria. Corene was frankly astonished that she hadn’t done so already. “Yes. She didn’t run. She died.”
Just speaking the words was enough to push Liramelli over the edge. She dropped her face into her hands and started crying, thick choking sobs that shook her sturdy shoulders. Before Corene could even react, Steff had squeezed around Foley and taken Liramelli in his arms.
“It’s horrible, I know,” he said, smoothing a hand over her hair and cradling her against his chest. In the murky light, Corene couldn’t be sure, but she thought he kissed the top of her head. “I wish you hadn’t seen it.”
Liramelli’s voice was rough with tears. “I was glad she was gone, don’t you understand? I tried so hard not to hate her, but then when she disappeared, I was so happy! And all this time—she was down here alone and dead and I wasn’t even sorry—”
Steff had shifted his hold on Liramelli and now he was guiding her away from the body, back toward Melissande and the stairwell. “Just because you didn’t like her doesn’t mean it’s your fault she’s dead,” he said.
Melissande had come forward with her arms outstretched, as if she would take Liramelli from Steff and comfort her. But Steff, Corene noted, was not willing to relinquish the weeping girl.
“It is Sarona?” Melissande asked Steff in a low voice, and he nodded. “How very dreadful. We must tell Filomara.”
“And her parents,” Liramelli said on a sob. “And—and—Greggorio. And everyone.”
“Very well,” Melissande said. “Upstairs we go. Now. We will leave Foley to guard the door at the top until one of Filomara’s soldiers can be dispatched to bring the—to bring Sarona to the surface.”
At that, Liramelli looked up and tried to wrench away from Steff’s hold. “No—she’s been alone too long. Someone should stay with her.”
Melissande stepped closer, took Liramelli’s face between her hands, and spoke with utter solemnity. “That is merely Sarona’s body. She no longer inhabits it. It is terrible that she died in such a way, and we will help Filomara however we can to figure out exactly what happened. But you cannot help her by sitting down here in the dark and crying. You must go up and let the living do their part for the dead.”
For a moment, their gazes stayed locked, then Liramelli started crying again, but more quietly. She nodded and seemed to droop against Steff’s shoulder. “Let’s go up, then,” he said.
They were a mostly silent procession as they wound their way to the surface, alternately climbing the rough stairs or sliding their feet along the smoother ramps. The only noises were their shoes against the stone, Liramelli’s occasional sniffle, Steff’s intermittent murmurs of encouragement, and the distant sound of rats chittering in the walls.
Corene had never in her life been so glad to reach a doorway and step through it. Even though this windowless hallway was almost as low and shadowy as the underground stairwell, it felt airy as an elay bower; she felt a thousand times lighter, bathed in sun, and finally, finally able to breathe.
Liramelli sagged against the wall as Steff and Foley shoved the thick door back in the frame until the lock snapped in place. The girl looked pale as death herself, Corene thought. She could hardly imagine how Liramelli was still staying upright.
Melissande had drawn the same conclusion. “Steff, you must go to the empress,” she said. “Corene and I will take Liramelli to her parents before she collapses in the hall.”
“I’m all right,” Liramelli said faintly.
“You’re not,” Corene said. “But I want to wait here with Foley. If someone knows what we’ve discovered—well, two people are more difficult to overcome than one.”
Steff snorted. “I hardly think you would be able to fend off an attacker who overcame Foley.”
“Maybe not, but I could scream loud enough to rouse the whole palace.”
“All right,” he answered. “Melissande—are you sure you can get her that far?”
Liramelli pushed herself away from the wall to prove she could stand on her own. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little stronger.
Melissande put an arm around her shoulder. “We will manage,” she said. “You go to Filomara.”
In a few moments, the other three had disappeared down the low hallway. Corene stood tensely as she listened to their footsteps fade away, then she looked over at Foley. He was standing with his back against the door, his feet planted solidly on the floor, his hands casually at his sides. She remembered the weapons he had offered Steff, and wondered if there were more blades concealed on his body. She’d never actually seen him fight, but she’d always believed he could defeat as many assailants as he had to. She’d been so jealous of Josetta—to have someone so committed to her well-being. To have that someone be Foley. She had constantly imagined what that must be like.
She shook away the wisp of longing. “What do you think?” she asked. “Suicide or murder?”
“It seems like an odd place and an odd way to choose to die,” he said. “I’m inclined to think murder, but I can’t be sure.”
She nodded. She had formed the same opinion. “I wish you’d been guarding her,” she said quietly. “No one could have killed her if you’d been there.”
“I hope that’s true,” Foley answered.
“Of course it is. You would have followed her everywhere she went.
”
He regarded her silently a moment. “She could have gone to the bed of a lover. I wouldn’t have followed her into that room. He could have killed her and spirited her body out a window or a secret door. She could have joined a party for dinner in private rooms and swallowed poison. I wouldn’t have been in that room, either. There is no way to keep anyone completely safe unless you are standing next to her, beside her, no more than an inch apart, every minute of every day. And even then, there is no guarantee. If you stand in front of her, the arrow might arrive from the back. Or the first arrow might pierce your throat, and when you fall, the second one buries itself in her heart. No one is ever safe, no matter how closely the guard is watching.”
Corene nodded and slumped against the wall. All of her muscles felt sore and tired, as if she had spent hours holding up these stone ceilings so that the others could walk beneath them. “You’re warning me,” she said. “You’re telling me to be careful.”
“Yes,” he said.
“If somebody killed that girl,” she said, “can you guess who?”
“Someone who knew where the key was kept, for starters.”
She nodded again. “That might be a lot of people. Lorian, of course. Probably the head chef, too, and the housekeeper and anyone who might have reason to visit the underground storeroom.”
“I would assume Lorian and the housekeeper have their own keys to every door in the palace,” Foley said.
“You’re probably right,” she said. “So maybe this was someone who didn’t have a key, but knew the door would be locked. And knew where the key was usually kept.” She shrugged. “Greggorio, for one. Liramelli said something to that effect.”
“I would guess all three of the empress’s nephews knew.”
“Though Garameno couldn’t have reached the key if it was hidden above the door. Or carried a body down the stairs,” she pointed out.
“No. But he could have paid someone else to do it.”
“To commit a murder? Or cover it up?”
Foley shrugged. “Someone faithful to him. That man of his who goes with him everywhere—he might have done the deed out of love or loyalty.”
She tried for a smile, which wasn’t very successful. “You wouldn’t kill anyone for those reasons, would you?” she asked. “Even if I asked you to?”
He watched her steadily and didn’t answer. But it wasn’t reprimand she read in that gaze.
“You would?” she breathed. “I think I’m horrified.”
“If it was someone who had harmed you badly enough and there was no other way to keep you safe,” he said.
“Did you ever kill anyone for Josetta?”
“At the end. When soldiers from Berringey came after Rafe and she was in danger, too.”
“Did she know that?”
“I imagine so.”
“You never talked about it?”
“There were a lot of other things going on just then.”
“I hope you don’t have to kill anyone for me.”
“I hope so, too,” he said. “Mostly because I don’t want you ever to be so much at risk.”
“I’m beginning to think Malinqua is a more dangerous place than I was anticipating.”
“So am I. Maybe it’s time to leave.”
This time she almost managed the smile. “We can’t, remember? The empress’s soldiers would stop us.”
“I think we could outwit them. And there are other ways to get free.”
“Like what?”
“Write a letter to your father and let him know you’re being detained against your will. I could get that letter to a Welchin sea captain. I promise you troops would arrive on the very next ship to escort you home.”
She sighed and slid all the way down the wall until she was sitting on the uneven floor. “And spark an international incident! A pitched battle between Malinquese and Welchin forces! That seems like an awful way to end a grand adventure designed to prove how independent I am.”
“I can think of worse ways to end such an adventure,” Foley said.
She sighed again. “Like Sarona, I suppose.”
He didn’t answer, but that was clearly what he meant. She realized—for the first time—that Foley didn’t really care about political maneuvering, which prince married which visiting princess, who was named to the throne of Malinqua or Welce or Berringey. All he cared about was the survival of whoever he had been assigned to protect. It was a drastically simple measure of success, she thought. Much simpler than the gauges Corene usually used. A little freeing, actually. What would I be doing with my life if all I cared about was whether I lived or died? she wondered.
Not simpering her way through endless dinners in a foreign court, that was certain. At least not the one in Malinqua. The thought was so very odd that she shoved it back down to the bottom of her mind.
“I don’t think we’re at the point yet where I need to ask my father to send in reinforcements,” she said. “But if we reach it, I’m glad to know I can get a message to him through Leah.”
“It might be time to see her in person again. To tell her what’s happened today.”
“I was just thinking that. I’ll set something up.”
“Good.”
They didn’t have a chance to say more because a commotion down the hall signaled that a crowd was heading their way. Corene scrambled to her feet, wanting to look calm and composed for the soldiers, but she was surprised to see who led the delegation: Filomara, with Greggorio right behind her.
“She is down there? You saw her?” the empress demanded as soon as she caught sight of Corene.
It was the first time she’d laid eyes on the empress today, so Corene formally bowed her head before speaking. “There is a body at the bottom of the stairwell. It seems to be a woman, and Liramelli thought she recognized the hair and jewelry, but I don’t know for certain who it is.”
“Open the door,” Filomara commanded.
“It’s an upsetting sight,” Corene said carefully. “You might not wish to see it.”
“Open the door!” the empress thundered. “This is my home and I will face anything that happens within its walls.”
Greggorio had stepped past her and laid both his hands on the door as if confused to find it shut. He looked awful, Corene thought—skin five shades paler than usual, eyes wide and haunted, mouth tensed with the effort of holding something back. Screams or sobs, maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Foley spoke up. “The door locked itself again when we shut it.”
Greggorio had obviously arrived at the same conclusion, because he had already lifted his hand to run it along the lintel above the door. He came up empty, of course, and Corene watched as he went through the same thought processes they had. He looked at the floor, he bent down to poke through the thick dust in the corners. When he straightened up, Corene thought he looked both puzzled and on the edge of frantic.
“Where’s the key?” he demanded.
Filomara issued an order over her shoulder. “Someone fetch Lorian.”
Foley answered Greggorio. “We couldn’t find it. Steff forced the lock.”
“We need the key,” Greggorio exclaimed. He began digging at the seam between the door and the frame with his bare fingernails. “We have to get to her.”
Corene could only stare at him—she had never seen the easygoing Greggorio so wild—but Filomara came close enough to put a hand on his shoulder. “We will get to her soon enough,” she said gruffly. “She has waited this long for us.”
He shook her off impatiently. “All this time,” he said, as if the words were gagging him. “We thought she was somewhere safe and happy, and all this time—all these ninedays—down in the dark with the echoes and the rats—”
Well, he’s certainly been to the bottom of the stairwell sometime, Corene thought. And he cert
ainly seemed half-mad at the idea that Sarona had ended her life in such an infelicitous place. She didn’t believe he was clever enough to manufacture such distress, which made her think he couldn’t have been involved in her death. But maybe, this whole time, Greggorio had fooled them all.
“I am furious that she suffered, and in my home,” Filomara said, still speaking in a low, serious voice. “But she is not suffering now. Be calm. Lorian will bring the key.”
Greggorio deliberately turned away from her, from all of them. He continued running his hand over the door frame, checking the lintel again, unable to stop looking, searching, trying to find a way past this obdurate checkpoint and down to the dead girl below.
Filomara turned to Corene, her face harsh and set. “Thank you for watching the door until I arrived,” she said. “But these are Malinquese matters, and we will deal with them now.”
That was unmistakeably a dismissal. Corene was only too ready to go. “Let me know if there’s something else I can do—or tell you—or help with,” she said, stammering a little.
“If something occurs to me, I will.”
Another exchange of nods, and Foley and Corene were slipping past the soldiers and back to the main corridors. “Do you have any idea how to get to our rooms?” Corene muttered. “I’m not sure I can find the way if Liramelli isn’t with us.”
“I couldn’t retrace our steps, but I think I can find the main hall on the lower level,” he said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Surely even you could make your way back at that point.”
Indeed, they followed progressively wider and more welcoming hallways until they were suddenly in the grand foyer. It was bright with afternoon sun and bustling with servants and petitioners, and absolutely nothing in its calm, purposeful, well-ordered confines would make you suspect that somewhere on the premises a murderer might be lurking, hoping not to be discovered.
THIRTEEN
“I didn’t think you would be here today,” Chandran said when Leah showed up at his booth in the morning.
“Neither did I. It turns out the princess would like to visit with me, and this is where she asked me to meet her.”