Chapter 15: The Cradle Room

Lucas was out of bed before the key had finished turning.

He pulled on his trousers and a loose shirt, and left Felix asleep with one arm flung over the black book.

The guards outside his door sat against the wall with their spears across their knees, breathing slowly.

He stepped round them in his bare feet.

The Omega Hall was long and cold, and lit only by one lamp at the far end, where the cradle door stood in its own small pool of yellow light.

The door was open a hand's width.

Lucas slipped behind the last stone pillar in the corridor and stood still.

He had been a nap-and-snack man in his first life, and he was quite sure he'd never done anything so stupid.

His heart beat in his ears.

HOLD ON ALPHAS: TROY 66%, FELIX 62%, JULIUS 55%, the system said, very quietly.

"Not now," Lucas whispered.

It was quiet.

A long time later, the door swung inward, and Melinda came out.

She had her hair in a plain braid and a thick grey cloak over her nightgown, and her face was not the face she wore at Court.

It was drawn and thoughtful, and it looked tired.

She held a stack of loose pages against her chest.

She pulled the door to behind her, and tried the latch, and it did not catch.

She frowned and tried it again.

"Old wood," she muttered, and gave up, and walked away down the hall toward the stairs, without the lamp.

Lucas counted a hundred before he moved.

Then he crossed the corridor, took the lamp from its hook, and put his shoulder to the cradle door.

It opened with a long sigh.

The room inside was round, high and very old.

The walls were carved from floor to ceiling, in pale stone worn smooth by hands.

He lifted the lamp.

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