And it’s true. This is the only life he has ever known—will ever know. For the first time, I realize I’m not the only one whose destiny is completely out of my hands, and a part of me kind of feels sorry for the prince. But that’s not the reason why we’re here.
“I always thought my mom came here to tell your mom she found the bodies, but last night I realized … what if my mom actually came here to find them?”
“Grace—”
“If my mom came here to find the bodies, then we can find the bodies.”
“Grace, they’re gone. They were smuggled out of the palace centuries ago. Everybody knows that.”
“Do they?” I have to ask. “I mean, think about it. Some people snuck into the palace and cut the bodies down, yes. That we know. But looters were everywhere that night. The whole city was filled with mobs. War was raging.”
“Yeah. And the bodies got lost in the chaos.”
“Have you ever tried to carry someone who’s unconscious? Well, I have—”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Alexei’s heavier than he looks,” I add quickly. “And carrying him was hard. I could barely drag him twenty feet. Think about it. Why drag four dead bodies across the city when you have a whole palace to hide them in? Especially if you know that you can always come back once the dust settles and give them a proper burial?”
I know my theory makes sense, but the prince doesn’t quite believe me, I can tell. He’s looking at me like I’m confused or na?ve. But not crazy. Never crazy. And I kind of love him for it.
He’s still shaking his head, though. He’s still trying to make me see.
“You don’t get it, Grace. The palace is huge, yes, but every inch of it has been remodeled and modernized and refurbished in the last two centuries. I mean, two hundred years have gone by. If the bodies were here, don’t you think someone would have found them before now?”
Sometimes I really hate common sense. That’s why I go to such great lengths to avoid it.
There’s a desk in the room with an old-fashioned pen set and really fancy paper. I rush toward it and draw the Society’s symbol the best I can, then hold it up for Thomas to see.
“Look at this,” I say.
“Okay.”
“Have you seen it anywhere in the palace?”
“No. Why?”
“I think it might mark the hiding place or be some kind of clue. Think hard. Maybe it’s carved into some wood or etched into stone or … something.”
“Grace, the palace is huge. There’s no way—”
“The truth is locked behind the gates!” I practically scream.
There’s a look that people get when they don’t want to give a crazy person bad news. We need our delusions, or so it seems. The prince just met me, and already he knows how fragile I am, how breakable. And he doesn’t want to be responsible for my final, fatal crack.
“Grace—”
“You said you saw my mother here. You said you saw her wandering around the palace. When was that?”
“I don’t know.” Thomas runs a hand through his messy hair. “Years ago.”
“Was it three—almost four—years ago? Think.”
Thomas looks down at his feet, as if trying to remember. After a moment, he nods, certain. “Yes. We talked about how I’d just gotten my braces, so yeah. That would be right.”
It’s like I’ve been holding my breath for years. For centuries. But I can finally exhale when I say, “That was when she found them.”
I can tell by the look in Thomas’s eyes he doesn’t quite believe me. That’s okay, I think. I probably shouldn’t believe me, either.
“Think about it, Thomas. That day, when she was wandering around, she wasn’t lost. She was looking. And she found them.”
“Grace, that’s—”
“Where was she?”
“I don’t remember. It was a long time ago, and—”
“Thomas, think!”
I don’t mean to shout.
I don’t mean to rant and rave. Thomas is a good guy. He’s on my side. He didn’t choose to be a part of this, but neither did I. When he nods and leads me down the hall, I have to tell myself that we’re not looking for bodies.
We’re looking for a way out.
All around us, Adria is in mourning. Heads of state are paying their respects. Palace officials are running to and fro, getting ready for the official funeral. Thomas’s grandfather is dead and his father is now king, but the prince is here with me.
I have to wonder if maybe we aren’t both crazy.
But as soon as Thomas leads us down the south corridor I know in my gut we’re almost there.
“The gates,” I say as the old palace gates come into sight up ahead. I can’t keep from singing.
“‘Hush, little princess, it’s too late. The truth is locked behind the … gates.’”
They’re open now, and nothing stands between the south corridor and the atrium-like room that probably used to be a courtyard. The floor is cobblestone. In the center of the room there is a fountain.
More hallways and corridors and staircases diverge from this space and I turn around, suddenly lost.
“This used to be the outside, right?” I ask, but I think Thomas knows I’m really talking to myself. “So did they mean behind, like coming out of the castle, or behind, like you’re coming in?”