Shadow and Bone

like years had passed since I’d left the ballroom, but it
couldn’t have been much more than an hour.
“Go to the hedge maze and turn left. Stay off the lighted
paths. Some of the entertainers are already leaving. Find one
of the departing wagons. They’re only searched on their way
into the palace, so you should be safe.”
“Should be?”
Baghra ignored me. “When you get out of Os Alta, try to
avoid the main roads.” She handed me a sealed envelope.
“You’re a serf woodworker on your way to West Ravka to
meet your new master. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nodded, my heart already starting to race in my
chest. “Why are you helping me?” I asked suddenly. “Why
would you betray your own son?”
For a moment, she stood straight-backed and silent in the
shadow of the Little Palace. Then she turned to me, and I took
a startled step back, because I saw it, as clearly as if I had been
standing at its edge: the abyss. Ceaseless, black, and yawning,
the unending emptiness of a life lived too long.
“All those years ago,” she said softly. “Before he’d ever
dreamed of a Second Army, before he gave up his name and
became the Darkling, he was just a brilliant, talented boy. I
gave him his ambition. I gave him his pride. When the time
came, I should have been the one to stop him.” She smiled
then, a small smile of such aching sadness that it was hard to
look at. “You think I don’t love my son,” she said. “But I do. It
is because I love him that I will not let him put himself beyond
redemption.”
She glanced back at the Little Palace. “I will post a servant
at your door tomorrow morning to claim that you are ill. I’ll
try to buy you as much time as I can.”
I bit my lip. “Tonight. You’ll have to post the servant
tonight. The Darkling might … might come to my room.”
I expected Baghra to laugh at me again, but instead she just
shook her head and said softly, “Foolish girl.” Her contempt
would have been easier to bear.