And he had not mentioned the Key.
The breeze rippled the rosebush, bringing a waft of its cloying scent, a silent surprise that he had revealed so much. When he spoke again his voice had its normal acid tone. "I hope you and Jared enjoyed the challenge." He stood abruptly. "The Earl is waiting."
She scowled. "I don't want to see him."
"You have no choice." He bowed and strode toward the gap in the hedge, and she swung around and glared at his back. Then she said, "Why are there no pictures of my mother in the house?"
She had no idea she was going to say it. It came out in a harsh demand quite unlike her own voice.
He stopped dead.
Her heart thudded; she was appalled at herself. She didn't want him to turn, to answer, didn't want to see his face. Because if he showed weakness, she would be terrified; his controlled poise was hateful and yet if it broke, she had no idea what might be underneath.
But he spoke without turning. "Don't go too far, Claudia. Don't try my patience."
WHEN HE was gone she found she was sitting on the bench in a huddle, the muscles of her back and shoulders tight with tension, her hands clenched on the silk of her skirt. She made herself take a slow breath.
Then another.
Her lips were salty with sweat.
Why had she asked him that? Where had it come from? Her mother was someone she never thought of, never even imagined. It was as if she had never existed. Even when she'd been small, looking at the other girls at Court with their fussing mamas, she had had no curiosity about her own.
She gnawed the bitten nails on her fingers. It had been a deadly mistake. She should never, never have said that.
"Claudia!"
A loud, demanding voice. She closed her eyes.
"Claudia, it's no good hiding in all these hedges." Branches swished and cracked. "Talk to me! I can't find the right way!"
She sighed. "So you've finally arrived. And how is my husband-to-be?"
"Hot and irritable. Not that you care. Look, there are five paths here at a meeting point.
Which do I take?"
His voice was close; she could smell the expensive cologne he used. Not splashed on, like Evian, but just enough. "The one that looks least likely," she said. "Toward the house."
The peevish mutter became more distant. "Like our engagement, many would say.
Claudia, get me out of here!"
She scowled. He was worse than she remembered.
Yew thrashed and snapped.
She stood quickly, brushing down her dress, hoping her face was not as pale as she felt.
On her left the hedge shuddered. A sword came through and hacked an opening, and his big silent bodyguard, Fax, stepped through, looked quickly around, then held open the branches. Through them came a thin youth, his mouth sour with dissatisfaction. He glared at her crossly. "Look at my clothes, Claudia. They re ruined. Quite ruined."
He kissed her coldly on one cheek. "Anyone would think you were avoiding me."
"So you've been expelled," she said calmly.
"I left." He shrugged. "Too boring. My mother sends you this."
It was a note, on white thick paper, sealed with the Queen's white rose. Claudia opened it and read.
My dear, You will have heard the good news that your wedding is imminent. After waiting all these years, am sure yours excitement is as intense as my own! Caspar insisted on coming to escort you here--such a romantic. What a handsome couple you will make. From now on, my dear you must think of me as your loving mother.
Sia Regina.
Claudia folded it. "Did you insist?"
"No. She sent me." He kicked the astrolabe. "What a bore getting married is going to be, Claudia. Don't you think?" She nodded, silent.
12
The decay was gradual and we were slow to recognize it. Then, one day, I had been talking with the Prison, and as I left the room I heard it laugh. A low, mocking chuckle. The sound turned me cold. I stood in the corridor and the thought came to me of an ancient image I had once seen in a fragmented manuscript, of the enormous mouth of Hell devouring sinners. It was then I knew we had created a demon that would destroy us.
-Lord Calliston's Diary
The sound of the unlocking was painful, as if the Prison sighed. As if this was a door that had not been opened for centuries. But no alarms howled. Perhaps Incarceron knew no door could lead them out.
Gildas stepped back at Finn's warning; chunks of debris and a red rain of rust clattered.
The door shuddered inward, and stuck.
For a moment they waited, because the narrow slit was dark and a cool, oddly sweetsmelling air moved beyond. Then Finn kicked the rubble aside and put his shoulder to the door. He heaved, and rammed it until it stuck again. But now there was room to squeeze through.
Gildas nudged him. "Take a look. Be careful."
Finn glanced back at Keiro, sitting slumped and weary. He drew his sword and slipped sideways through the gap.
It was colder. His breath frosted. The ground was uneven, and ran downhill. As he took a few steps a strange tinny litter rustled around his ankles; putting a hand down, he felt drifts of crisp stuff, cold and wet, sharp against his fingertips. As his eyes grew used to the deeper gloom, he thought he was standing in a sloping hall of columns; tall black pillars rose to a tangle overhead. Groping to the nearest one, he felt it over with his hands, puzzled. It was icy cold and hard, but not smooth. A mass of fissures and cracks seamed it, knots and swelling growths, and branches of intricate mesh.
"Finn?"
Gildas was a shadow at the door.
"Wait." Finn listened. The breeze moved in the tangle, making a faint silvery tinkle that seemed to stretch for miles. After a moment he said, "There's no one here. Come through."
A few rustles and stirrings. Then Gildas said, "Bring the Key, Keiro. We need to shut this."
"If we do, can we get back?" Keiro sounded worn.