Page 21 of To Bleed a Crystal Bloom
Drawing a lungful of goodness, I move deeper into the room that holds the heart of the castle; a woman with a barreling laugh and the ability to brighten your day with her wholesome recipes.
I reach for the steaming roll set on a small plate beside the hearth, splitting the soft, spongy dough in two. There’s a glob of cinnamon-nut butter piled on the plate that I sweep my finger through and smear across the bread, taking a large bite.
“Morning, girly!” Cook hollers, and I spin, cheeks bulging as I offer her a wave.
Her rosy, silver-streaked hair is pulled into a tight bun, auburn eyes twinkling, full figure swaying. She sets a large, copper pot on the cooker, making water slosh over the sides.
I skirt around the edge of the kitchen, plate in hand, dashing into the cellar stacked full of grain sacks, rounds of aging cheese, and big barrels of wine. Knees kissing the cold stone, I set the plate on the ground and thread my arm down a circular air vent cut into the wall, extracting my nabber—a mousetrap made from a hollowed-out tree branch, some coiled metal, and a bunch of ingenuity.
I lift it, peering down the spyhole only large enough for a rodent nose to fit through.
Curled at the end is a small, frightened mouse who obviously has the same appetency for cinnamon-nut butter as I do.
“This is not your lucky day,” I murmur, releasing the latch, lifting the lid, and digging my hand in to hook the squirming rodent out by its tail.
“Is it a fat one today?” Cook asks from behind, her warm, robust voice basting me with an immediate sense of ease. “There’s been something mighty big chewing holes in one of my grain sacks, so I’m hoping you’ve caught the vermin.”
“Normal size,” I answer, watching the poor thing swing back and forth, trying to twist up and bite me.
Cook hums her disappointment while I root around inside my bag, locating the jar with air holes. I unscrew it one-handed, drop the mouse in, and secure the lid. Spreading what’s left of my butter on the nabber’s internal wall, I reset the latch and slide it back in the hole.
“Any special requests?” Cook asks, and I smile, glancing over my shoulder. “Best get them in early. The kitchen will be busy over the coming weeks. We haven’t had a ball here inyears.”
I clear my throat and stand, stashing the mouse in my bag, ignoring the heaviness that settles on my shoulders. “What about some of those apple and pastry rolls you used to make when I was little?”
Her brows draw together. “The ones with lemon-toffee drizzle?”
I nod, wiping buttery fingers on my top.
“You only ever asked for them when you were feeling blue ...”
“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing another smile. “Just an abundance of ripe lemons on my tree. I’ll bring some down later.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Time to change the subject.
“How’s your granddaughter? Did you make it to Cardell to see her yesterday?”
Thatmakes her cheeks swell. Her daughter and son-in-law are truffle farmers in a neighboring village, and recently welcomed their first, long-awaited child.
“I did. And she’s a tubby one, unlikeyou.” She looks me up and down, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “One of these days, I’ll find a way to put some meat on those bones. Mark my word!”
We both say the last three words in unison, and I laugh, hooking my bag over my shoulder.
“Now, off you go,” she says, shooing me. “The soup ain’t gonna prepare itself. Bring those lemons down later and we can have a cuppa. I’ll tell you all about my wee babe.”
“Looking forward to it.” I lift onto my tippy toes and plant a kiss on her freckle-dusted cheek, then pick up the plate and dart off, setting it in the sink before I head out the door.
The mouse squeaks his displeasure at being jostled about as I sprint down the cold, barren hallway lit by flaming wall sconces. I come to a T and bank left, slowing my steps when I reach a cobbled archway on my right—one that looks like every other archway in this giant castle.
But it’s not.
It’s one of the thirty-seven entrances to The Tangle—the unutilized labyrinth of corridors lumped in the center of the palace that twists and turns and splits and crosses and feeds into areas otherwise difficult to access.
My secret weapon.
These corridors lead anywhere and everywhere, if you know how to use them. Some pop out in doors that are invisible to the untrained eye, others lead to sensible places regardless of the insensible track it takes to get there.
