Page 28 of Song of the Heart Scale
Voices.
I darted behind a column, my heart pounding as two robed acolytes entered from a side door. One carried a stack of parchments, the other a box of sealed scrolls.
“I told you, the rites aren’t meant to be performed so soon—”
“We don’t have a choice. Prince Thorne gave the order himself.”
“That’sEmperorThorne now.”
After they passed, I waited ten full breaths before emerging again.
I followed their path and descended a spiral staircase, brushing my fingers along the iron rail slick with condensation. The further down I went, the colder it grew. Here, the torches burned blue-white. Their flames hissed.
The lower levels weren’t on any public tour. These halls were narrower, filled with storage alcoves and sealed chambers. Dust coated everything.
It took several false turns and another near miss—ducking behind a tapestry just as a patrolling pair of guards rounded the bend—before I found a servant’s corridor that sloped downward.
The air changed.
Incense. Strong and cloying. Not temple incense—this was funeral incense.
I crouched and pulled open a small ventilation grate. Cold air rushed through and stung my cheeks.
I crawled inside.
The crawlspace was barely wider than my shoulders. I dragged myself forward inch by inch, the stone scrapingmy elbows. Rats scurried ahead, their claws scratching like whispers.
Ten minutes. Then fifteen.
I turned once, then twice. I thought I’d gotten lost until the scent grew stronger. Something herbal. Cloying. Too much of it.
A faint glow shone ahead.
I came to another grate, pressed against it, and peered through.
The emperor’s chamber.
Enormous. Still. Lit by dozens of candles, their light turned gold by the silk-draped walls. A dragon mural coiled above the bed like a guardian spirit. And on that bed—still and pale—lay the emperor, shrouded in black silk.
Malachar sat on the floor beside him, cross-legged with one arm chained to the bedpost. His head was bowed. One eye was swollen shut, the other glowing weakly beneath the hooded lid.
I drew my dagger, twisted the screws loose, and pushed the grate aside.
I dropped silently onto the floor.
Malachar didn’t flinch.
“You’re late,” he rasped.
I straightened. “What happened?”
“You know what’s happened.”
I glanced back at the body. “Was it poison?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you see?”
