“Near the guest wing.”
Well, that was something. At least Scarlet didn’t have to worry about them starting out hopelessly lost.
“We’re trying to get to Artemisia Port E. You know where that is, right?”
“E…,” murmured Winter. “E for execution. Earth. Evret. Emperor.” She pondered a moment longer. “E for escape.”
Scarlet groaned. “E for unhelpful.”
“No, that does not work.”
Scarlet spun on her and the princess came to a hasty stop. The back of her skirt was dark with blood, and smears of it covered her arms, her legs, even her face. In fact …
Looking down, Scarlet saw that she had a fair amount of it on herself, as well. This would not help to make them inconspicuous.
“The docks, Winter,” she said, glowering at the princess. “Do you know where they are or not?”
The princess scrunched up her face and pressed her bloodied palms against her cheeks and for a moment Scarlet thought she was going to cry.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her breaths shortened, her shoulders beginning to quake.
“Princess,” warned Scarlet.
“I think so. The docks … yes, the docks. With the mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?”
“And the shadows that dance. Port E. E for escape.”
“Yeah, E for escape.” Scarlet could feel her hope slipping through her fingers. There was no way this was going to work. “How do we get there?”
“We take the rail. To the edge of the city.”
“The rail. All right. How do we get there?”
“Down, down, down we go.”
Scarlet could feel her patience unraveling. “And how do we go down?”
Winter shook her head, apology swimming in her amber eyes. Scarlet would have wanted to hug her if she hadn’t simultaneously wanted to strangle her.
“Fine. I’ll figure it out. Come on.” She took off down the hallway, hoping they would stumble across a flight of stairs or an elevator. Servants had to get around quickly, didn’t they? Surely they would find— She rounded a corner and screeched, nearly colliding with a girl, a maid who couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old. Winter crashed into Scarlet and she grasped the princess’s arm, adrenaline thundering in her ears. The maid stared at Scarlet for a heartbeat, then at the princess, covered in blood, then dropped into a nervous curtsy, clutching the linens in her arms.
“Y-your Highness,” she stammered.
Clenching her teeth, Scarlet grabbed the knife out of the scabbard and lunged for the girl, pinning her against the wall with the blade against her throat.
The girl squeaked. The linens tumbled around their feet.
“We need to get to the rail that will take us to the docks. Quickest way there. Now.”
The girl started to shake, her eyes round.
“Do not be afraid,” said Winter, her voice singsong and delicate. “She will not hurt you.”
“Like hell I won’t. How do we get to the docks?”
The girl raised a finger. “D-down this hallway, to the right. The stairs go down to the sh-shuttle platform.”
Pulling away, Scarlet grabbed a white tablecloth from the fallen stack and ushered Winter down the hall without looking back.
The corridor ended in a T. Scarlet turned right and found an alcove that dropped into a bright stairwell. Once the door had shut behind them, Scarlet shook out the tablecloth and draped it around Winter, doing her best to knot it into something that resembled a cloak, hiding the blood and the princess’s recognizable beauty. Deeming her work passable, she grabbed Winter’s hand and headed down the steps. As they reached the second landing, the walls changed to rough gray-brown stone. They were underground, in the sublevels of the palace.
Three floors down they emerged onto a platform lit by glowing sconces. Before them were silent magnetic rails. Scarlet approached the ledge, peering each way down the tunnel.
She spotted a second doorway, arched and trimmed with phosphorescent tiles. The entry into the palace corridors, as opposed to the dull servants’ entrance.
Something clicked. The magnets started to hum. Heart launching into her throat, Scarlet held out her arm and backed Winter against the wall. A bullet-shaped shuttle emerged from the tunnel and glided to a stop on the tracks. Scarlet held still, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t see them, wouldn’t even glance their way.
The shuttle door lifted with a hiss of hydraulics and a giggling noblewoman stepped out, wearing a flamboyant emerald-green gown that glittered with jeweled peacock feathers. A man followed in a tunic stitched with runes similar to those worn by the thaumaturges. He reached over and squeezed the woman’s backside. She squealed and swished him away.
Scarlet didn’t breathe until they’d stumbled to the door and their laughter faded in the stairwell.
“That was not her husband,” Winter whispered.
“I really don’t care.” Scarlet lunged toward the shuttle. “Open!”