“I’m sorry!” Miranda sputtered. “I really didn’t think it was going to be an issue! Renaud grew up right above it, so I figured if he knew about the pillar at all, he would have gotten it years ago, before he was banished.”
“He wouldn’t have had access to it when he was a prince,” Eli said. “The treasury vault can be opened only by the king’s direct order.”
Everyone turned and looked at him, and Eli took a step back.
“What? I did do some research on Mellinor. That was my first plan, actually—get Henrith to open the vault for me—but then I figured kidnapping would be much more high profile.”
Miranda slapped her hand against her forehead. “Well,” she said, “that clears things up nicely.”
“Does it really matter?” Eli said. “I mean, our objectives haven’t changed. Get Renaud, get the money, get away. The plan is still rolling smoothly. We’ll just have to be more careful. Besides”—he rubbed his hands together—“sneaking into a treasury sounds much more profitable than sneaking into a throne room.”
Miranda grunted, but she could think of nothing sufficient to counter all that was wrong with that sentence. Eli grinned and opened the closet door, spilling them out into the dark hazy hall.
“Look,” Miranda said, balancing herself against the sooty wall, “even if you’re right, and the plan is still valid, we don’t know where the treasury is. Since we made it this far with only a spying rat for trouble, it’s a safe bet Renaud doesn’t have the Pillar yet, but if anyone recognizes us, we’ll be up to our neck in guards and, shortly after that, enslaved spirits. We don’t have time to wander around lost.”
“So we’ll ask someone.” Eli smirked and pointed over her shoulder. “In fact, I think I’ve spotted someone who can help us.”
Miranda whirled around, and her eyes widened in shock. Standing at the junction where their small corridor met the madness of the main hall, still as a statue with her hands pressed against her mouth despite the other servants pushing past her, was Marion. As soon as Miranda made eye contact, the girl rushed forward, and the Spiritualist barely had time to catch her breath before the librarian’s hug crushed it out of her.
“Oh, Lady Miranda,” she gasped. “I knew you’d be back! I knew it! The king’s not really dead, is he?”
Miranda clutched the girl’s shoulders awkwardly. “No, Henrith’s alive. He’s with Gin, and safe.”
Marion looked up at her, eyes glowing with delight. “Really? Oh, thank goodness.” She looked around at Eli and Josef. “Who are these? Reinforcements from the Spirit Court?”
“More or less.” Miranda grinned, and Eli rolled his eyes. “Listen”—she pushed Marion back so she could look the girl in the eyes—“Marion, this is serious. We need to get to the treasury.”
Marion nodded vigorously and grabbed Miranda’s hand, pulling her to the end of the corridor. “This way,” she said, turning down a tiny hallway Miranda hadn’t noticed before. “With the main halls like that, it’s faster to take the servants’ passages.”
Miranda nodded and resigned herself to being dragged. Eli took up position right behind her, with Josef bringing up the rear. As usual, Nico was nowhere to be seen. Marion led them through a maze of narrow halls and then down a flight of stairs. This led to more hallways and then more stairs, until Miranda could hardly believe all of this labyrinthine tunneling fit inside the same castle she’d bullied her way into only days before.
As they followed the twisting hall down yet another stair, something occurred to her, and Miranda looked over her shoulder at Eli. “How did you know it was Marion?” she whispered. “I never told you what she looked like.”
“Simple,” Eli whispered back. “Who else in this place would possibly be happy to see you?”
Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle at the truth of that, and she turned her attention back to the stone hall as Marion led them past the turn-off for the prisons and down yet another narrow stair, heading deeper and deeper into the castle’s foundations.
CHAPTER 20
Marion led them deeper than Miranda had imagined the castle could reach, down below the prison, below the foundations, and into the very heart of the stone that lay far below the fertile soil of Mellinor. Though the city was low lying, there was no sign of water here, no seepage over the years as one would expect to find this deep below the surface. Only the ancient, wooden support beams and the occasional fluttering light of the lamps broke the monotony of the smooth, dry stone as the narrow hallways and connecting stairs descended deeper and deeper into the earth.