“No. Absolutely not.”

Lita shook her head, her arms crossed, and her face wearing a look of supreme stubbornness.

“I can’t clean it,” Christopher begged. “Stoops wants me to shine his swords and he’ll keep me at it all day.”

“No. No. NO.” Lita shook her head violently with each word, making her long braid swish around her like a whip.

“I’ll clean the chandelier, Christopher,” said Mally.

Christopher’s wide eyes latched onto her.

“Would you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Sure.”

“May heaven bless you!” he cried in relief, kissing Mally on either cheek and rushing down the corridor.

Lita positively refused to even keep Mally company. It made her stomach turn even to see someone so high on a ladder, so Mally made her way alone to the library, where the chandelier waited to be cleaned. Mally was proud of herself. It was just her fourth day in the castle, but she had memorized a good number of servant passages in that time. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still get horribly confused and lost, and come out onto the east wing when she had intended the third floor. Many times she got so disoriented in the weaving, maze-like servant passages that she would have to peek around a tapestry or mirror to get her bearings.

She ducked into a small room that housed sheets and towels and, glancing over her shoulder, opened a wardrobe. She pushed the heavy cloaks to one side and stepped in, pressing her hands against the wooden back. It swung open, revealing a narrow stone passage with a low ceiling. Every couple of feet, a torch was mounted on the walls; their light flickered as new air swept down the passage. This passage led directly to the library on the second floor and Mally was pleased she wouldn’t have to risk the many floors and corridors of knights. Other passages joined hers and multiple times she waved or nodded to other servants traveling to their various destinations.

Mally hadn’t heard from Ivan or Galen. She knew that this was to be expected, but the news of the raid had made Mally nervous. She wanted to know for herself that Galen and Olive and Edwin (Galen’s little brother) were all right. For the past day and a half, she had been listening hard for anything the servants were hearing. But tomorrow was Thursday and Mally would be able to enter the city. She would go to the Lone Candle and see for herself how they were. In the mean time she would just have to do the job Ivan had put her in the castle to do.

Gerda enjoyed talking and Mally had quickly gathered information from her. She now had a nice idea of who had worked in the castle when the Royal family had died.

“I started work here early that spring,” Gerda had said. “I adored King—” Gerda glanced at their bedroom door to make sure it was closed “—Sebastian and Queen Amara.” Mally had seen this behavior many times already from the servants. No one was allowed to say the late king and queen’s names, but the servants did when they were sure a knight was not listening. “They were the most wonderfully kind people. I was devastated when the queen had her riding accident, and I cried for days when His Majesty was poisoned.” Gerda’s eyes had indeed taken on a watery shine. “And I never believed it was Alice Spindle who killed him.”

“She was a servant,” Lita had supplied.

“Yes, the sweetest, quietest girl. May she rest in peace.”

Mally had frowned at Gerda.

“But she did poison the goblet, right?” she had asked. In Blighten, Alice Spindle was not a polite topic of conversation. At Gerda and Lita’s glares, Mally had added quickly, “Maybe it was an accident?”

“It was no accident,” Gerda had nearly spat. “She did not put in that poison. She was set up. And I’m not the only one who believes that!” Gerda had exclaimed heatedly when Mally frowned dubiously. “Lita, you don’t believe it!” Gerda had spun around to face Lita who shook her head firmly. “And neither does Meriyal or Nathan or Nanette—”

“Who’s Nanette?” Mally had quickly interrupted.

“Nanette Lynwood. She was good friends with Cayla Black. Cayla was the one who first argued against Alice’s guilt,” Gerda had explained. “She left after the princess died. I think she couldn’t handle it anymore.”

“And the princess died of a fever?” Mally asked, wanting to be sure of the facts.

“Yes,” Gerda nodded. “Cayla looked like a ghost after it had happened. And Kiora—Kiora couldn’t make any sense of it. It was like she couldn’t believe it.”

“Were Cayla and Kiora…?”

“The princess’s nursemaids. They cared for her. Cayla mostly, but Kiora helped.”

Mally’s eyes lit up. What she needed was to talk to one of these women.

“Is Kiora still here?” Mally had asked hopefully. “Can you introduce me?” she asked Lita.

Lita’s widened eyes shot to Gerda who had become very still.

“Kiora died sixteen years ago,” Gerda had said stiffly. “She jumped from Bosc Bell Tower.”

.

.

Mally had reached the end of her passage and pushed the back of a large painting open a crack. After assuring herself that the coast was clear she swung it open, jumped out of the passage and shut it back.

The library was large, but the ceiling was moderately low. The job Christopher had begged Lita to do was clean the chandelier that hung in the center of the library. Mally opened a wardrobe in a corner and wheeled out a small ladder that was used to reach the top bookshelves. No wonder Lita didn’t enjoy it. She would have to stand on the topmost step to reach parts of the chandelier. Mally climbed the ladder and withdrew a cleaning rag from her pocket. This will take hours, she sighed, and started work.

As she cleaned the chandelier, she planned out how she was going to get information for Ivan and Galen. Gerda had pointed Nanette Lynwood out to her the other day. She was tall and had mousy brown hair, but that was all she had seen, for Nanette had walked through a door a second later. In fact, Mally hardly ever saw Nanette and decided that maybe she should question someone else first.

She would have to go slowly and wait for an opportunity to present itself in the conversation. If she seemed too inquisitive about the Royal family it would look suspicious. She was worried that Lita already thought her behavior odd.

So far, the only take on the events she had gotten was from Gerda.

“The queen died at sunset. She always went for a ride then, though I remember there was a nasty storm. That was how we found out, you see. When it began to rain, King Sebastian realized Queen Amara was still out and he sent Alfred Cass to find her; he was the stable boy then, but he’s in charge of them now. I’ll never forget that night. He came rushing into the great hall, soaked to the bone and covered in mud, yelling that the queen was dead. Supposedly, the horse had gone wild and jumped a dangerously high hedge. Which was so strange, because Queen Amara was a remarkable rider. The horses under her hand never faltered.”

“Perhaps the storm caused him to bolt?” Lita had suggested.

But Gerda hadn’t looked convinced, “Perhaps … And when King Sebastian died … I was sleeping and was yanked awake by Meriyal who told me.”

Mally had to admit that the story of Alice Spindle’s guilt was difficult to believe. Certainly, she would never poison a goblet that was hers and always hers to deliver. Unless she was stupid or wanted to be hung. And Gerda was fierce about Alice’s sanity and clarity. In Gerda’s mind, Alice Spindle would never have made such an atrocious mistake. And the only place where herbs and powders were kept was in a locked cupboard in the sickroom for making tonics. And not even there were the ingredients kept in a large enough dosage to kill someone. Which meant Alice must have gone into the city to buy the poison. Something that Gerda strongly argued was inconceivable.

And Mally agreed. It was too obvious.

So if Alice had been set up, who was the real murderer? But that didn’t really put her on a new path. The king and queen were clearly dead and the princess—in Mally’s opinion—looked pretty dead, too. Where was the proof that she was alive? The people had been told she had died of a fever and the only two people who could positively counteract that story were no longer at the castle. Cayla had moved on, though Mally was suspicious as to whether it was at her own inclination, and Kiora had leapt from the bell tower. But the funeral was strange. Royalty were seen in their caskets. The people viewed them. Paid their respects. It was tradition. The king and queen had been seen, so why not the baby?

It seemed that Mally was back in the position of quizzing older servants. After mentally running through her list of options, she decided to find Nathan after cleaning the chandelier. But, Mally never got the time to find Nathan. Halfway down a stairwell, she bumped into Sir Brian and it took a good twenty minutes before she managed to escape. And at the bottom of the stairs she ran into Meriyal, who needed her to sweep the steps clear of leaves.

I’ll talk to him tomorrow, Mally thought fifteen minutes later, massaging her neck as she returned the broom to the garden shed.

“Mally! Mally!”

“Now what?” she groaned.

But she was pleasantly surprised to find Sammy McGriff, a young boy of around ten who helped Jack Arrington, the gardener, rushing to her.

“I have a message for you,” he panted. “From Bob Kettle.”

“Bob? What is it?” she asked sharply, her mind zooming to Sam.

“He says you should come right away. That it’s urgent. Your horse—”

Mally didn’t hear the rest. Blood pounding in her ears, she left Sammy, running back into the castle seeking Meriyal.

It took her some time, but she finally spotted her leaving the armory.

“Meriyal!” Mally ran up the remaining stairs, pushing past Betty and Joan in her haste.

“Have you finished sweeping? Good, because I need you to—”

“I can’t,” Mally interrupted. “Bob Kettle just called for me. It’s urgent. Something has happened to my horse!”

She spoke in such a rush that her words tripped over themselves.

Clearly taken aback by Mally’s state, Meriyal said slowly as if trying to calm a wild animal, “Bob has stable hands. I’m sure they can handle—”

“If they could then Bob wouldn’t have called for me! Please Meriyal!”

Meriyal’s lips thinned but she nodded her head shortly.

A warning was clear in her voice as she said, “Hurry back.”

Mally spun around and raced back down the stairs, whizzing past Alfred and Joan again. At the main gate, she stopped and waited for the knight to allow her through. A stitch was starting in her side from running, but she didn’t slow, and people on the street watched her fly by. She slid to a stop at the entrance to Bob’s stable, gasping for breath.

“Bob?” she yelled.

“Out here!” came a reply from the fenced meadow.

Heart racing, dreading what she would find, Mally sprinted around the side of the stable to the meadow. She stopped in her tracks. Sam stood in the meadow, munching nonchalantly on some tufts of grass, looking utterly content. Beside him stood Ivan and beside Ivan stood Galen.

“Hi,” said Ivan once she had clambered over the fence.

Sam perked his head up and gave a loud snort of delight. He jutted his great head against her chest and closed his eyes as she scratched behind his ears. Galen grinned widely at her. On his chin was a nasty scratch and beside his right eye a faint bruise.

“Are you all right?” Mally immediately demanded. “I heard about the raid.”

“I’m fine,” Galen replied a bit too casually for Mally’s liking. “I’m glad to see you!”

“Don’t change the subject!” said Mally. “What happened?”

Galen looked a little surprised by Mally’s furious demand and a little … pleased? That didn’t make any sense to Mally, so she ignored the slight curve of his mouth and continued to glare at him.

“Five knights showed up during dinner and wanted to search the inn for hiding rebels,” Galen explained.

Mally gasped.

“Then they know…?” she couldn’t bring herself to finish that question. But relief washed over her as Galen and Ivan both shook their heads.

“The first time it happened, we thought they knew about us, but they search everywhere—houses, shops, stables,” Galen told her. “They don’t know who the rebels are so they search random places in hopes of catching us off guard.”

“But you got hurt,” said Mally, staring in concern at Galen’s face.

“Believe me, it’s nothing,” said Galen with that hint of a smile.

Mally stared at Galen in silence. Ivan awkwardly cleared his throat, startling Mally back to his presence. Now with her attention on Ivan, she glowered at him, suddenly remembering what had brought her dashing to Bob’s stable.

“What was the point of scaring me to death!” Mally snapped at Ivan. “I ran all the way here.”

“I needed to talk to you,” said Ivan, smiling broadly. “I couldn’t walk in and ask for you without suspicion.”

“So pretending that Sam was hurt—”

“I never said he was hurt,” Ivan replied happily. “You thought that.”

Mally glowered.

“Don’t be mad, Mally. I knew you’d come without hesitation if it was anything about Sam and seeing to your horse wouldn’t make the knights or servants think twice.”

“I told him it was a bad idea,” said Galen in an undertone.

“Well, there’s no need to do that anymore,” said Mally. “Meriyal has allowed me to visit Sam on Thursdays. I’m also running errands in the city then.”

A wide smile filled Ivan’s face.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed.

“So, how’s the castle been?” Galen asked softly.

Even though his air was casual, and he had his hands in his pockets, Mally knew he was tense.

“Smooth, I suppose. I’ve made friends with some of the servants.”

“But you’re okay? No one’s hurt you?” Ivan asked.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Mally assured Ivan quickly. “The knights haven’t paid me much attention.”

“None of the knights?” asked Ivan shrewdly. His eyes narrowed. “Not even Bayard?”

“Well, Bayard’s another matter,” Mally muttered, glancing at Sam’s hoof.

“What’s he done?” Ivan demanded sharply.

“Nothing, except threats. No one’s tried to kill me.” Yet, she added silently.

Ivan seemed pleased at that but Galen looked uncomfortable and Mally suddenly felt that she had said the wrong thing.

After glancing around the meadow casually, Ivan asked, “Any news?”

“I don’t have much,” Mally sighed. “One of my roommates—Gerda Higgs—was at the castle when the Royal family died. What she told me is what we already know: falling off a horse and poison.”

“And the princess?”

“Died of a fever,” Mally relayed, shrugging.

“The same as what Romore told the people,” Ivan nodded, his expression hard. “Have you questioned any other servants?”

“No. I’ve been too busy cleaning,” Mally said ruefully. “And I’m still so new. I don’t feel comfortable enough to ask those sorts of questions. But there’s a handful of people that are promising.”

“Good, we need to get as much information as we can, and I hate to say this, but you may have to question some knights. They were around during that time as well.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mally sighed, though she silently swore that it would be only as a last resort. Glancing at Galen, she suspected that he felt the same way.

.

.

Mally was starting to wonder if she would ever get the time to question any of the other servants. Meriyal kept her and the others so busy that her interrogation project only entered her mind after dinner when she was stretched out on her lumpy bed. She would have thought that growing up on a farm would have prepared her for all-day cleaning, but cleaning a castle was just different. There were so many rooms and so many things in them. She was used to plowing and cutting wood and retrieving water, but cleaning from dawn till dust just seemed to require an energy reservoir that Mally didn’t have yet. And any time that Meriyal thought Mally wasn’t busy, she would quickly add a handful of jobs.

Mally wiggled her toes and stared up at the darkened ceiling. Gerda was serving dinner to the knights as she always did and Lita had to help because Abigail had a bad cold and had spent the whole day in the sickroom. With this rare bit of solitude, Mally could plan her next move.

Nathan seemed like a wise choice. Mally had heard that he had come to the castle about the same time as Gerda. He might have a different spin on the deaths. Meriyal had been the Head Servant during King Sebastian’s reign as well, but Mally couldn’t imagine asking her such sticky questions. Not yet, anyway. Then there was the cook, Archibald Diggleby, who Mally had not yet seen because he stayed in the kitchens, and Evelyn Green, who said something unflattering about Mally’s appearance every time they passed in the corridors. Mally ticked the names off on her fingers as she watched the orange light from the fire dance on the ceiling.

She wondered what the knights would say if asked about the deaths. Ivan had said that some knights might be good and helpful to the rebellion but it seemed awfully dangerous to go picking out who was and who wasn’t. And Lita was right, if a servant knew, then Molick would know. If any knight was moving against Molick, then he had to be smart about it. Not for the first time, Mally pictured Sir Brian carefully depositing small bags of gold in teakettles.

And thinking of knights … ever since Gibbs had spotted her in the corridor, she had been waiting for him to drag her before the king or Molick and prove her a liar. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t even looked at her again. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe he really didn’t remember her as the farmer’s daughter in Blighten.

Her mind wandering, her eyes following the dancing lights on the ceiling, she suddenly realized with a jolt that she hadn’t seen the king. She supposed that wasn’t odd. She had only been in the castle for a little over a week. But she didn’t even know what he looked like, though she was sure he’d be dressed in royal attire.

“I swear this is the last straw!”

Mally sat up and looked at the door. Gerda’s voice grew louder and the door banged open so violently that it ricocheted back off the wall. Gerda stormed in, closely followed by Lita and Joan. “Gerda, you need to be more careful,” Joan warned as Gerda sat cross-legged on her bed, fuming. Mally perked up as she considered Joan as a possible source for information about the Royal family, but then she remembered that she had arrived at the castle two years after Salir Romore had taken the throne. “Bayard’s dangerous and if you anger him—”

“Anger him!” Gerda shrieked. “Anger him! What about me, Joan? I’m sick and tired of his disgusting advances!”

“What if you ignore him?” asked Mally.

Gerda snorted vehemently.

“I tried that already.”

“What about—”

But there was a sudden knock on the door and Lita jumped from her bed to open it. There in the doorway, looking slightly out of place, was Nathan.

“Gerda, can I speak to you?” he asked.

Gerda blinked, quickly rose, and walked out of the room. Nathan closed the door behind them.

“I wonder what he wanted?” asked Lita, frowning at the closed door.

“What happened?” Mally asked.

“The usual,” Lita retorted, spinning around to face her. “Disgusting advances—not gentleman-like at all!”

“No one ever said Bayard was a gentleman,” said Joan, gazing out the small window. She smiled slightly and shrugged. “It’s rather late. I think I’ll call it a night.”

“What a day,” Lita groaned, falling onto her bed. “I hope Abigail gets better soon. I hate serving that group.”

“Was the king there?” asked Mally.

“He’s there every night. Why?”

“I just realized that I don’t even know what he looks like,” Mally admitted, shrugging.

Lita frowned.

“He has black hair—a bit gray here and there, tall, thin and—the obvious bit—wears clothing that says he’s a king.”

“I assumed as much, but it just feels odd that I haven’t seen him.”

“He doesn’t usually flit around the castle.” Lita rolled over onto her elbow and said slowly, “You know what’s odd? I don’t think he’s as bad as the people think.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Mally startled.

“Well…” Lita sighed. “Wouldn’t a king who’s ruthless and uncaring act ruthless and uncaring?”

“I would think so,” Mally agreed.

“But that’s just it. He isn’t ruthless and uncaring … or maybe he is, just not around the servants. But we’re nobodies,” Lita pressed. “The knights treat us as nobodies so why wouldn’t the king?”

Mally stared at Lita.

“I don’t know.”