The Queen of Grass and Tree (Southwind Knights #2)

Chapter Three, Part 1

Chapter III: The Judging 

“You’re late,” the Keller said.

The tower had been difficult for Asher to gain entry to and even worse to navigate. It had only taken him a few winding corridors to become lost.

“Come with me.”

He feared she would send him away, but she took him deeper into the castle, descending until they came to a door of heavy, dark wood. Everything from that point on was shadows and torches. The Keller led him down a winding stair and into a tunnel, eventually coming to a wide, musty room stocked to the ceiling with barrels. Bottles and casks pointed out from the walls. It was a massive cellar.

“I serve the Queen,” the Keller said. “You will serve me.”

Asher wondered when he’d get to see the Queen. She’d said they would speak again, and he was ready to. “Yes, Lady,” he said.

“For some reason she trusts you. I will trust you. Trust is important. Do not break it.”

“Yes, Lady.”

“Remember this place,” she said. “Report here every morning, on time.”

He had no idea where they were or how they’d gotten there.

“Yes, Lady.”

She handed him off to an errand boy—a reformed ragamuffin named Crispin—and he gave Asher a tour of the interconnected tunnels around the cellar. The labyrinth wound deep, far from any light or sound of the world above. The turned back at the catacombs, where Crispin identified what he claimed were the moans of Lady Margaret’s ghost—though Asher was fairly sure that the sounds came from the nearby dungeons. The halls in that direction emitted a rancid, unnatural draft. He wondered if the rabble-rouser was being held there.

They dropped off Asher’s belongings in the servants’ quarters, and after a two-minute rundown of a serving boy’s life, Crispin presented a two-hour dissertation on the best hiding places, least-used corridors, and most generous cooks—a lecture on how to survive castle life. Don’t anger the Keller, avoid the Queen, and if you’re caught roaming by the Wraith—Lilian’s bodyguard—run for your life.

In the kitchens, Crispin abandoned Asher to go beg for sweets, and he was left to explore on his own. A current of warm, sweet air lured him to the ovens, and for a moment he was transported back to the Baker’s shop in Southwind. An aproned old hag swept the floors, eying him with distrust. He put his hands up in plain sight and smiled. He knew this game.

“You the food taster?” she said, jiggling her wrinkled gullet.

“No, I’m a new servant.”

She grunted. “Are you?”

Asher supposed she’d seen hundreds of new faces pass through in her time. She must have been there a while. He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice.

“The Queen,” he said. “Who was she before she was Queen?”

“Well she was the Princess, wasn’t she?”

“Before that.”

She leaned on her broom, scratching the whiskers on her chin. “You trying to get me in trouble, boy?”

“No,” he said. “I’m nervous, and I thought I should know about the Queen so I don’t say the wrong thing around her.”

“Isn’t no offending this Queen,” the hag said. “She was one of us, wasn’t she? Spent her younger years bumming round the docks, they say. Just keep your sweet mouth shut and you’ll do well.”