Chapter 21: The Third Floor

Ronan Aldermere climbed the Queen Mother's tower with a torch in one hand and his wife's fingers in the other.

He stopped her on the second landing.

"Stay here," he said.

"Ronan."

"She had a cup of poison on a table and a smile on her face. I do not know what is behind that door."

He held her eyes.

"Let me look first. Please."

Sorrel's jaw worked.

She was shaking, and she kept looking up the dark stair.

"Five minutes," she said. "Then I'm coming up."

"Five minutes."

He left her with the captain and took the last flight alone.

The third floor of the tower had one door.

It was oak, banded with iron, with three bolts on the outside, each of them oiled and bright from use.

Ronan stood in front of it with his heart hammering.

He thought of the six years he had spent behind his own walls, and of the woman who had built them.

Helene had known where to put a king and where to put a mate-finder, and she had put them both behind doors.

He slid the first bolt, and the second, and the third.

The door still did not open, because a lock sat under the handle.

"Madam," he called. "I am Ronan Aldermere. I have come to open this door."

Nothing answered.

He put his hand flat on the oak.

The fire woke in his palm without being asked.

He pushed it into the lock until the iron ran red and the tongue slid back.

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