That night, Mally lay awake in bed, listening to the sounds of sleep coming from the two beds beside hers. Her heart pounded against her chest so loudly she feared it would wake Lita and Gerda. What she was planning was completely crazy. Anxious as she was to warn Ivan and Galen, she knew going to them after curfew was foolish in the extreme. But the Lone Candle had already been searched and no matter what Galen had said about it being random, Molick did not seem like a random man to Mally. He didn’t have the other servants being followed. No, he was having Mally followed. He had a reason for this. He was guessing Mally would lead him to something or someone and Mally would not let that happen. She would not help Molick catch the rebels. She had to warn them.

Rain splattered against the small window. Turning her head on her pillow to stare out into the inky blackness, Mally hoped that it wasn’t raining as heavily as it sounded. She didn’t like the idea of running. Her side hurt even at a quick walk, and rain would certainly not improve the trip.

Once she was sure that Lita and Gerda were truly asleep, Mally slid off the bed, dressed, and crept out of the room. She had never been through the castle after everyone had gone to bed. The darkness made her skin crawl. She didn’t dare light a candle. Praying that she wouldn’t run into a knight doing a nightly round, Mally rushed through the corridors as silently as a ghost, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. She didn’t know what she would do if she ran into Bayard. Thankfully, she didn’t meet anyone and was soon tiptoeing across the deserted kitchen. Feeling it was now safe to risk a flame, she lit one of the candles on the table. Glancing over her shoulder, she inched open the door she had seen Rosa disappear through to fetch Archie mead on numerous occasions. It creaked and squeaked and Mally clenched her teeth painfully as the noise rang in her ears.

She took the steps two at a time, holding her candle out before her, and rushed past giant barrels of wine piled ten feet high, past racks of cheese the size of wagon wheels, past hanging hams and salamis until she had reached the back of the cellar. A stained and torn sign was nailed to a wooden post next to a large group of black barrels. Mally squinted at the neat, loopy script with her candle’s light and read: Gooseberry Wine. She looked down and inspected the floor. Three boards to the right—she crouched down and dug her fingernails into a thin crack between one board and another. It moved! Biting her lip, she carefully slid the board out of place, revealing a few stone steps; the rest disappeared in the darkness below. Mally hastily swung her legs through the opening and walked down the steps, sliding the board back over her head as she went.

It wasn’t a long descent. She stepped away from the stairs and looked down the tunnel, or at least tried. The brilliant light of her candle hurt her eyes in the dense darkness. Breathing in a shaky breath, holding her candle aloft, she slowly started down the tunnel.

She wasn’t sure how long she walked, but it couldn’t have been too long, for when she came across a set of worn stairs her candle hadn’t burned down very low. Mally walked up the stairs and at the top found a dead-end. What looked like a wooden door stood before her. Carefully, she pushed the door open.

She stepped into a very small, very old shed. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and rusty shovels, axes, and nails littered the walls and floor. Knowing that her candle would be useless in the rain, she blew it out and set it beside the door. She exited the shed, pulling her hood over her head. She appeared to be right outside the castle’s walls; the shed was so tiny and run down that it seemed to disappear in the nasty brambles and scraggly bushes that hid it from view.

Nervously, Mally looked up at the wall, terrified of seeing a knight standing on patrol above her head. But no one was there. Jerking her hood farther over her head, she sprinted away from the shed down a cobbled street. It was raining just as heavily as she had feared and by the time Mally had reached the road that she knew led to Bob’s stable, she felt like she had swum rather than run. Her cloak was heavy and clumsy and her feet squelched in her shoes. Splashing her way, she continued on, passing the road to the stable. She kept to the sides of buildings, always looking in both directions like a petrified rabbit. The city was so empty and silent that Mally felt like the only living person.

She ran on, forced to stare at her feet while awkwardly holding her hood over her face. Panting, her side stinging, she stopped and stared about her. She should have been at the Candle by now. Mally stared wildly down the street she had come down before swiveling around and staring down another. Trying to keep the panic out of her throat, she attempted to read the sign of the building she stood before but in the dark, she couldn’t make it out. Swallowing with difficulty, Mally started to walk again. Her eyes were as large as an owl’s as she tried to see through the rain anything that she recognized.

Feeling her resolve snap like a twig, Mally’s panic overcame her and she ran at full speed. She ran blindly, turning down one road and then taking a sharp turn down another. She splashed through the streets of Bosc without any sense of direction. But her side seized up and she stumbled to a sliding halt, collapsing on a barrel outside a shop. Gulping down great gasps of air, Mally looked up and blinked in surprise. There it was! The Lone Candle! Halfway down the street! She had found it! Jubilant and relieved beyond measure, Mally made to walk around the giant barrel but then the air in her lungs disappeared. A lantern bobbed in the distance, heading toward her. Quick as a flash, she dived behind the barrel, peering around its side. Three soggy knights walked toward her and, without glancing her way, continued straight on past. She waited until the light from their lantern dwindled to a tiny speck before rushing to the Candle’s door like a criminal to her shelter.

Wheezing and gasping from the pain in her side, Mally pounded on the wooden door, desperate to be out of the rain and out of the open. She felt horribly exposed. No music issued from inside nor any voices. No light spilled out on the road from the large window to the right. She knocked louder and pulled on the gold chain beside the door frantically. From somewhere inside the inn, she heard a bell ring faintly.

Had she waited too long to depart from the castle? Maybe he was in bed. Maybe no one dared open their doors after curfew for fear of what danger and trouble that would bring. She raised her fist to knock again and a piece of wood covering an eyehole slid away.

“Mally?”

She recognized his eyes just as much as his voice.

“Can I come in?” she whispered, pressing herself up against the door. “I need to speak to you.”

Galen’s eyes disappeared and in seconds the door had opened and Mally nearly tumbled inside, dripping water all over the floor.

“Galen? Who is it?”

Olive’s voice came from somewhere upstairs, strained and nervous.

“No one, Mother,” Galen replied, ushering Mally through the door behind the bar. “The sign was hitting the wall again.”

“I thought I heard the bell ring.”

“Really? I didn’t.”

“Ah, well. The rain must be playing tricks on me. Goodnight, Galen.”

“Goodnight, Mother.” Galen closed the door behind the bar. Mally stood in a kitchen. It wasn’t as large as Archie’s but it got the job done. Large black pots sat beside a soapy washtub. Galen was staring at her in deep worry. “What happened? Why are you here?” He stepped closer to her and frowned slightly. “What happened?” he repeated.

Unlike the dining area and bar, the kitchen was well lit. Mally quickly turned her face away from him, wishing the bruise on her cheek was gone.

“What happened?” Galen demanded in a fiercer voice.

Mally swallowed.

“I had a … confrontation with Bayard.”

For a moment, Galen looked like stone.

“When?” he bit out.

“Two days ago,” said Mally. Relieved that he wasn’t yelling, she added quickly, “But nothing’s happened since then. I haven’t even seen him. Please don’t tell Ivan.”

“Tell Ivan?” Galen suddenly exploded making Mally back away in alarm. “Why didn’t you come to me when it happened?”

“It was at night,” said Mally, startled.

“And this isn’t?” Galen asked, pointing at a window. “Do you realize how dangerous entering the city is at night?”

“I came here to warn you!” Mally fumed heatedly. She was risking her life and this was how he thanked her?

Galen froze and stared at Mally.

“Warn me about what?” he asked quietly.

“A knight has been following me. I noticed him yesterday when I was in the city running errands. The day before that I was called to Molick’s sitting room.”

Galen’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned the color of sour milk. He sat down quickly at a large table.

“He asked me questions about the rebels, but they were pretty general—ones he asks everyone,” Mally continued, taking a seat opposite him. “But when I saw the knight, I got worried. I think Molick found me suspicious. I wanted to warn you to keep your distance from me for a while.”

Galen blinked and said so flatly that Mally nearly laughed, “And tonight doesn’t count?” He rubbed his chin distractedly. “I’ll tell Ivan. You couldn’t have sent a letter?”

Mally opened her mouth like a fish. How stupid. Of course she could have sent a letter. She could have penned it to discreetly share her fears of being followed among lines of silly gossip.

Galen sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Mally nodded, embarrassed. Sitting in the warmth of the kitchen with Galen, rushing out to warn him suddenly seemed so ridiculous. She felt hot around the collar and just wanted to return to the castle.

“I mean your bruise,” said Galen.

“Yes, I’m much better. Gladys—she saw to my bruises and cut—”

“Cut?” Galen repeated, once again looking shocked and angry. “He cut you?”

“No. I fell against a candle stand.”

Galen looked momentarily speechless. Mally fidgeted slightly in her chair.

“Like I said, I haven’t seen him since then. I would have come earlier, but I had to find a way out of the castle.”

Galen frowned.

“How did you leave the castle without the guard seeing you?”

“The servant passages.” And when Galen continued to look confused, she remembered Meriyal’s order to keep them secret. But she brushed this away. Galen wouldn’t spread this bit of information. “There are secret passages that only the servants use. Molick is just as obsessed with them as he is with the rebels. I had to find one that led out of the castle. I—” Mally looked at her hands, now feeling like a complete idiot for such a risky excursion. “I just wanted to warn you,” she muttered

Galen looked startled for a second before a very small smile appeared on his face and leaning forward slightly, he said, “Thank you.”

.

Nearly two hours later, Mally was clambering back out of the tunnel. She shook her cloak, showering water droplets all over the cellar floor. Mally flung back her soggy hood and hurried back up to the kitchen. There she blew out her candle and replaced it on the table. It was half burned, its wick obviously lower than the rest. She hoped that Rosa and Archie wouldn’t pay it any mind or assume they had left it burning by accident. A few minutes later she was rushing along a dark corridor, her wet skirt swishing heavily about her ankles. There was a servant’s passageway at the end that would lead her to the third floor.

“Miss Biddle?”

Mally gasped and spun around. Sir Anon stepped out from behind a towering vase. In his hand he held a lit candle. How could she have not seen the light? She must have been so focused on reaching the servant passage that she had walked right past him.

“Sir Anon,” said Mally in surprise. “I didn’t see you there.” She hoped her smile covered her nervousness.

He stepped closer, his eyes sweeping over her.

“What are you doing in the corridors at this hour?”

Mally’s mouth went dry.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she invented. “I took a walk.”

“In the rain?” he asked, staring at her dripping cloak.

“Yes—in the rose garden. Rain calms me,” Mally answered, though she didn’t feel remotely calm and she doubted that she looked it. “I did it all the time back home,” she added.

“You used to live?”

“In Bligh—Halspeare.” Mally hoped her fumble would go unnoticed.

“Halspeare. Why did you decide to leave it?” Sir Anon asked curiously.

Mally thought that this conversation was heading down an odd road. Did he no longer care why she had been in the rain? Or if she was telling the truth about staying inside the castle’s walls?

“Halspeare is wonderful, but I wanted a change of scenery,” Mally invented. She fervently hoped that the city could be called wonderful, as she had never stepped foot there. “I’d never been to Bosc or the castle.”

Sir Anon seemed pleased with that. He stepped closer to her and raised the candle higher so that her face was in clear view.

“I hope your mother and father don’t miss you too much?”

“I’m an orphan,” Mally said quickly.

Why was he looking at her like that? It was as if his eyes were trying to memorize every detail of her face. They were barely inches apart. Mally longed to step backward, but knew it would be impolite.

“I suggest you return to your quarters, Miss Biddle,” said Sir Anon abruptly. “And in the future, may I recommend a cup of deep sleep tea? I believe Rosa McGriff has a large supply.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Mally, gratefully stepping away from him and curtsying. “I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She turned and hurried down the corridor. Before she made to pull the tapestry from the wall, she glanced down the corridor where she’d left Sir Anon, but he was gone—or perhaps the candle had simply been extinguished.

.

“Your shoulder is completely healed and the bruising to your side is much improved,” Gladys proclaimed.

Mally rolled down her sleeve and stood.

“So you don’t need to see me anymore?”

“No, but of course I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to drop by.”

Mally smiled. Gladys had been asking Mally every day to sit for a tarot reading. (“I’m not very good, mind, but it’s fun.”)

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Mally, grinning as she left the sickroom.

Sir Anon stood a few feet from the sickroom door, gazing out of one of the tall windows.

“Sir Anon,” Mally greeted him with a curtsy.

Sir Anon nodded.

“Miss Biddle.”

Mally walked past him, glad that he didn’t want to talk. It had been three days since her late night excursion and at first she had been terrified that he had told someone, but Molick had not sent for her again.

In the following weeks, life continued normally. Mally could hardly believe she had been in the castle for a month. Archie had finally calmed down over Mally’s personal guard, she hadn’t bumped into Bayard, and she hadn’t heard anything from Galen and Ivan. Lita’s annoyance or anger seemed to have burnt out, but she still hadn’t told Mally what had caused it, and Mally didn’t care to ask for fear that it would bring back her mood. A happy, cheerful, talkative Lita was much more pleasant to be around. During her errands into the city, Mally kept her eyes open for the watching knight and on the last Thursday, she hadn’t seen him once. She hadn’t noticed any knight watching her in the castle, either.

But then, maybe he didn’t like following her on mushroom hunts.

Mally had heard all about Archibald Diggleby her first week as a servant. From the stories, he seemed picky, stubborn, reclusive, and brilliant. Mally had heard quite a few well-chosen curses thrown about with Archie’s name attached, but she’d never heard anyone wishing him gone. His talent for food and drink made up, it seemed, for his difficult manner.

Mally thought it strange and out of character that a person who greatly disliked people in his kitchen was perfectly happy if she were present. She was often being tracked down at his request. Lita found all this wonderful.

“He’ll give you anything!” she said ecstatically, after Betty had told Mally Archie wanted to see her. “Do you know what’s in that cellar?”

“He’s shown me around,” said Mally evasively. She hadn’t told Lita about her late night excursion through the cellar trap door.

“Gooseberry wine, blackberry mead, five-year-old cheddars the size of wagon wheels!” Lita rolled off excitedly. “Cases of stouts, bitters … the Christmas wheat!”

“Christmas wheat, what’s that?”

“Just the best beer ever!” she cried jubilantly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We don’t usually get to drink a lot of it. Archie makes it for the knights and the king, but he’ll sometimes give us a little sampling. Say, do you think Archie would let me tag along when you go mushroom hunting? It sounds fascinating. I’d love to learn.”

“I don’t know. He’s awfully protective about that.”

“You don’t have to say that twice,” said Lita dryly as they made their way down the kitchen corridor. “But he loves you. He’d give you anything.”

Mally scrunched up her nose at Lita as they headed toward the kitchen.

Archie called on her whenever he wanted mushrooms. She had already been sent to fetch large basketfuls of black bonnets, angel wings, shaggy ink caps, and slippery jacks—all of which had taken hours. This visit was no different.

“I need flat-footed ogres,” yelled Archie the moment she and Lita had entered the kitchen. “Five basketfuls. And I need them no later than two hours before dinner.”

“That doesn’t give me much time,” said Mally, slightly annoyed.

“There was a slight change of plans,” Rosa gasped over her shoulder as she kneaded a huge mass of dough.

“Hey, hey, Archie?”

Archie’s sweaty face swung around.

“You wouldn’t mind if I went with Mally, would you?” asked Lita, smiling broadly. “She could teach me how to pick mushrooms. Two hunters are better than one.”

Archie was starting to look frazzled. The kitchen was a wreck of chopped vegetables, half-beaten eggs, and marinating meat. A dribble of dough dangled from his mustache.

“Fine!” he snapped, his mustache bristling. “I don’t care. Just get me those ogres!”

Two minutes later, baskets in hand, Lita and Mally headed to the forest that lined the southern side of the castle.

“So, where are we to find flat-footed ogres?” asked Lita happily. Mally was sure that she was thrilled to be outside instead of shining suits of armor.

“The forest,” said Mally. “They like it cool and shady.”

“What do they look like?” Then Lita chuckled. “Like an ogre’s foot?”

“Well, you just wait and see.”

They entered the forest and searched the thick, leafy floor. Lita didn’t see a thing, but after a few minutes of slow inspection, Mally found one.

“This is a flat-footed ogre,” said Mally, picking it and holding it out to Lita.

“Ugh!”

Mally felt that ugh did it justice. A brown, dusty mushroom, flat-footed ogres were around the size of a fist. Small round protrusions adorned one side. They disturbingly resembled toes.

“I don’t much like how they look either,” Mally admitted as she placed it in a basket. “But they taste good.”

It took a while, but Lita got over her squeamish attitude and had great fun scurrying from tree to tree, yelling for Mally to make sure she had found the right ones.

“The good thing about ogres is that they’re so distinctive,” said Mally. “Unlike fairy caps and amanitas.”

“Aren’t those identical?” asked Lita as she searched the ground with great intensity.

“Almost. The differences are very subtle.”

“So I doubt Archie will let me handle fairy caps in the near future?” asked Lita grinning.

“No, I don’t think so,” Mally agreed laughing.

Once their baskets were full of the ugly mushrooms, Mally and Lita returned to the castle where they dropped off their load to an even more frantic Archie.

“What’s going on?” Lita muttered to Mally. Stunned, they watched him and Rosa running back and forth—spoons swinging through the air like swords, knives chopping and slicing with vigor.

“Rosa, what’s the matter?” asked Mally as Rosa dashed to the herb cupboard.

“Didn’t you hear?” Rosa gasped. “Molick’s returning today.”

“Returning?”

Mally and Lita looked at each other blankly.

“I didn’t know he had gone,” said Lita.

“I don’t think he was gone very long.” Rosa was now frantically digging through brown bags, pulling out dried herbs. “We were just told this morning. The entire dinner had to be changed. King Salir told us to cook his favorite as a welcome home.”

“Rosa! Stop talking and get over here!” Archie yelled from the stove. Rosa jumped, clasped her herbs to her chest and rushed to him.

“Welcome home?” Lita snorted. “I’d like to see anyone who’s glad he’s back.”