But how long has he been in there? And what did he hear? The thought sends me into a fresh panic, and I clutch the candlestick tighter.

The porcelain knob rattles; then the armoire door swings open and Søren tumbles out, barely managing to land on his feet. Clumsy as it is, there’s a surprising amount of grace in the exit, especially considering that the wardrobe seems far from big enough to hold his broad frame. My dresses have been pushed to either side, and behind him, in the back of the armoire, I can just make out the opening of a tunnel.

A tunnel in my armoire is certainly helpful to know about, though I’m embarrassed that I’ve never found it myself. Not that there was ever much of an opportunity to snoop before, with my old Shadows always watching.

But how long has he been in there? If he overheard Blaise and me talking, I’ll have a difficult time explaining that away.

“Søren?” I say, doing my best impression of being surprised. I drop my arm to my side and try to hide the panic coursing through me. “What are you doing here?”

He straightens up, and his bright blue eyes move from my face, to my dress, to the candlestick in my hand. There’s no suspicion there, I notice. If he’d heard me talking about Dragonsbane as an ally, he wouldn’t look nearly so amused. I almost sag with relief, but manage to keep my expression surprised.

“Sorry, I planned this to go a bit more smoothly.” He scratches at the back of his neck and gives me a sheepish smile. “Were you talking to someone?”

I glance at Blaise’s wall and give Søren a shrug. “My Shadows,” I explain, gesturing to the walls. “I heard a noise and got a bit frightened.”

He frowns and glances at the walls in turn. “Your Shadows are here? Even when you sleep?”

My laugh is light and flirtatious. “I’m a very dangerous girl, Your Highness. The Kaiser wants to make sure I don’t incite rebellions or sneak off with crown prinzes.”

“Ah,” he says, and though the room is lit only by the moonlight coming through the window, I can almost swear I see his cheeks redden. “Do you think they can be persuaded to look the other way for a night?” he asks.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” I say before pitching my voice lower. “Why? Were you planning on inciting a rebellion tonight?”

Søren’s eyes glint with amusement in the moonlight before he turns his attention back to the walls. “I’m taking Lady Thora on a stroll. We’ll be back in a couple hours’ time. I can manage to keep her out of trouble until then,” he says in a voice I now recognize as his commanding Prinz voice.

“Are you certain?” I tease. “It’s a pretty sizable job.”

“Whose side are you on?” he asks.

I know he’s joking, but the words send a jolt through me anyway, reminding me I need to be careful.

“The Kaiser won’t like it,” Blaise interrupts. He’s pitched his voice lower and it sounds raspier. If I didn’t know it was him, I would assume the voice belonged to someone older. Someone unused to speaking.

“The Kaiser doesn’t have to know,” Søren says. “And I’ll see to it that you’re handsomely rewarded.”

Blaise hesitates, as if he’s actually thinking it over. “Two hours,” he says finally.

Søren nods, triumphant, and steps toward me, taking the candlestick from my hand and crossing to the dying fireplace, crouching with his back to me. When he stands up again, the candle is lit. “Come on, then,” he says, coming toward me and slipping his hand around mine, pulling me toward the tunnel in the back of the wardrobe. “We don’t have much time, and I want to show you something.”

“Oh, what could it be?” I ask innocently. “Troops? Weapons? What else does a rebellion need?”

He glances at the walls before shooting me a warning look. “Careful, or they might change their minds,” he says, but he hasn’t lost the mirth in his eyes. Despite myself, I can feel a dose of giddiness coursing through me as well. His enthusiasm is contagious and his callused hand around mine is raising delightful goose bumps on my skin. I hope Blaise can’t see the effect Søren is having on me, or if he can that he thinks it’s just an act.

See? I want to say. I can flirt with whomever I like, kiss whomever I like. It doesn’t mean anything with him and it didn’t mean anything with you.

I need to get away from him as quickly as possible, so I follow Søren to the wardrobe. He holds the door open for me, but before I step inside, he draws me against him, shielding me from Blaise’s gaze. His head ducks so that our foreheads are nearly touching.

“You look beautiful,” he tells me, his voice barely louder than a breath.

He says it shyly, in a way that makes me wonder if he’s ever said that to anyone before. A wave of triumph washes over me. After all, there is no mistaking a comment like that for something platonic. He does actually like me. I try to ignore the other reactions his words bring out in me—the heat that rises to my cheeks, the goose bumps that rise on my arms.

“Really?” I ask, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow. “And here I was just thinking I should have kept on that gray dress.”

He gives a snort and motions me through the small doorway at the back of the wardrobe that’s just big enough to crawl through.

THE TUNNEL IS NARROW FOR a good five minutes of crawling before it becomes tall enough to walk hunched over, single file. Another ten after that, it becomes the size of a regular hallway, like the tunnel I used when I first met up with Blaise. Søren falls into step beside me. We pass entrances to more tunnels as we walk, spidering out to who knows where. Tunnels that Blaise and I never found when we were young but that might prove useful now.

Though the candle isn’t bright enough to fill the whole tunnel, it casts a small circle of light around me and Søren. It’s enough to see that Søren has grime smeared across his cheek and sprinkled through his fair hair. Judging by the way he smiles at me, I’m sure I’m in similar shape, but I don’t mind. I prefer dirt to ashes, at least. I try to ignore the fluttering in my stomach that his smile sets off, but it’s such a rare sight on him that I can’t help but smile back.

“You have something…,” I start, reaching up to brush the dirt from his cheek. His skin is cool under my fingertips, and rough from the ghost of stubble that lingers there. His eyes meet mine and I suddenly feel shy. I drop my hand and quicken my pace. “How did you find this tunnel, anyway?” I ask him.

“The palace is full of tunnels,” he says, catching up with me. “It’s just a matter of looking for them. This one goes to my room as well, and a few other rooms in the north wing. There’s one tunnel that I think goes to the dungeon, but I haven’t tried that one.”