One day these guards will look at me the way they looked at my father, Tedros thought, prowling through the empty staff dining room into a carpeted corridor. One day no one will question my place as king— He tripped over a hole in a carpet and toppled through an open door, his crown flying off him, his body splaying onto a wet floor. He stood up gingerly, his chest and legs drenched. He lit his fingerglow and saw he was in a spacious bathroom, almost as big as his master bath in the Gold Tower. The floor was flooded an inch deep with water. Tedros scanned the bath with his glow until he found the source: a severed toilet hose that had dumped out the entire water tank. Tedros groaned and picked up his dripping crown, smushing it back on his head. He was about to trudge back into the hall and fetch one of the maids . . . but then something caught his eye.
Farther in, the bathroom had two side doors across from each other, each leading into opposing rooms. Which meant this bathroom was shared between whoever occupied those two rooms.
No wonder it’s so big, Tedros thought.
Curious as to why neither of the rooms’ inhabitants had noticed the leak, Tedros opened one of the side doors and stepped through— He raised his brows.
It was the strange guest room, with the brown-and-orange rug, bare beige walls, and lonely bed in the corner. The one his father used to hide in during his drunken hazes.
But Tedros hadn’t used this door earlier today. He’d entered through the front door across the room, which still had his bloody handprint on it. And he’d used a key.
He turned and examined the door he’d just come in, with no doorknob on the inside and deftly concealed within the pattern of the wallpaper. It’s why he hadn’t seen it when he was in here this morning.
A secret door? To a guest room?
It didn’t make sense. Then again, many things in this castle didn’t make sense. Especially in the middle of the night, when he could feel his brain deadening and his eyes starting to close. But then another thought struck him— Who shared the bathroom with this room?
He stepped through the secret door back into the bathroom and waded across the wet floor to the opposite side door.
He opened it—
A blast of perfume hit him, smelling of powdered rose. The small room had lavender wallpaper, a dark purple carpet, and a crisply made bed. A plate of half-eaten biscuits and an empty glass were on the nightstand, a dried-out lemon on the glass’s rim. Next to the glass was a leather-bound notebook. Tedros peeled it open and saw pages filled with Lady Gremlaine’s clear, graceful handwriting: schedules, to-do lists, addresses, notes to self. . . .
Tedros looked around the deserted room.
Shouldn’t she be sleeping?
There was nothing on the desk cabinets or mantel. He glanced back into the bathroom. There were no face creams or perfume bottles or even a toothbrush.
Tedros’ chest tingled.
He pulled the closet door. Empty. He yanked open the drawers and cabinets. Empty.
He rushed through the room’s main door into the hall and saw the square-jawed guard, reappeared.
Tedros frowned. “Weren’t you in the other . . . Never mind. Where’s Lady Gremlaine?”
The guard didn’t look at him, his narrow, hooded brown eyes fixed ahead. “Gone, Your Highness.”
“Yes, but gone where?”
“Packed up before lunch. Took all of her belongings and left the castle,” the guard said. “Said she was no longer needed.”
“What? Why would she—”
Tedros’ eyes widened. When they were in the Hall of Kings, he’d promised to stand up for her. To vouch for her after she’d helped him these past six months. He’d given Lady Gremlaine his word. But instead, he’d forgotten all about her and let his mother dismiss her, just like his dad once had.
“Like father, like son,” her words echoed.
Tedros hadn’t just been selfish. He’d been cruel.
The young king stiffened, heat coloring his cheeks.
It was time to swallow his pride.
Slowly he looked up at the guard.
“I seem to be lost after all,” Tedros said.
The dungeon wasn’t in the White Tower.
It was in the Gold Tower and to get there, they had to go through King’s Cove. Turns out Tedros had been working out right over the prison every morning and he hadn’t a clue. He followed the guard through the Gymnasium, tensing up as they passed Excalibur’s empty case, then tightening even more as the guard spotted King Arthur’s statue inside King’s Cove, the eyes gouged out.
“Your Highness,” he gasped, nostrils flaring, “someone has desecrated the—”
“I am aware, guard.”
“I’ll make sure to inform the other men—”
“I’m handling it,” Tedros clipped. “It’s one o’clock. I’d like to sleep tonight. Where is the prison?”
Still looking concerned, the guard stepped into the muggy grotto, the broad frame of his blue-and-gold uniform glowing in the pool’s ghostly light. The weak torches lit up the surface of the fungus-filled water and the slow, leaky cascade over the tall pile of rocks. The guard reached up to the statue of King Arthur holding Excalibur and twisted the sword’s hilt, the stone turning easily under his fingers.
All of a sudden the waterfall stopped running and the rocks parted, revealing a white stone door.
“I believe you have the key, Your Highness,” said the guard.
“Key?” said Tedros.
“Only you and Lady Gremlaine have keys to the door. Lady Gremlaine let us in each day to feed the prisoners. But if she didn’t leave her keys behind when she departed the castle, then only you can let us in now.”
Tedros took out his key ring. “But I don’t have the key to—”
He stopped. There was a coal-colored key scrunched between the many others on his ring—the one he always assumed opened a far-flung lockbox or weapons case. Skirting the edge of the pool, Tedros slipped through the gap in the rocks to reach the door and fit the black key into the lock. He pushed the door open, revealing a steep staircase down into darkness.
The guard lifted a torch off the wall and started descending the steps.
“This way, Your Highness.”
The young king followed quickly, trying not to breathe in the wet, fetid stench. Lancelot was right: the rest of the castle might be crumbling, but the real Royal Rot was hidden down beneath. Tedros was glad he hadn’t come alone.
“Has the prison always been here?” he asked the guard.
“Far as I know, Your Highness. Suppose the old kings enjoyed the thought of swimming idly while their prisoners festered below them. I’m not much older than you, so don’t take my word for it. Started my duties here only a few months after they packed you off to school.”
“How does one even become a guard at Camelot?” Tedros asked, guilty that he didn’t know the answer. In fact, he hadn’t ever remembered talking to a guard before. Growing up, he’d treated them like wallpaper.
“We go to school for it, Your Highness. Not all children get to attend the School for Good and Evil. Though I certainly wrote many a letter to the School Master, begging him to make me an Ever,” said the guard, starting to defrost.