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‘She was here a while ago.’

Alex couldn’t resist another look at the pictures.

‘She’s good with our guests.’ Kara remained at a deferential distance. ‘We can’t tell anyone when she’s rostered on guide duty because we get inundated. She likes to be with our most vulnerable guests. She would do more tours but she also designs the temporary displays—she just dropped in her plan for a new exhibition.’

‘Yes, she’s been working hard on it.’ He glanced over and realised the desk right beside him was Tilly’s. A single framed photo was on prominent display. His pulse skipped as he realised the child in the picture was her—gap-toothed, her hair wildly bright, more orange than auburn. A man was crouched beside her, wearing an achingly familiar smile. They were posing in front of a museum in London. Her dad. He swallowed. This was her most personal place—where she felt at home enough to display a tiny part of herself. He picked up a small spray bottle and sniffed it. Vinegar.

‘We use it as a cleaner,’ Kara explained. ‘Did you see the solstice display last year?’

He shook his head. ‘I imagine it was a massive success.’

‘Our most popular exhibit ever.’ She smiled. ‘Tilly would say it was a team effort, but she’s too humble. It was all her. We’re going to miss her terribly. You know she digitised our entire catalogue?’

‘No—you mean…?’ Miss her. Huh. He sharpened his focus and encouraged the woman’s obvious need to sing Tilly’s praises. ‘When did she do that?’

‘She started not long after she arrived at the palace. I think at first she wanted to learn about Montaurella, and perhaps she felt comfortable here.’ She glanced at the frame on the desk. ‘Digitising was a long-term project we hadn’t got to. We were a very small team then—it was before we opened the tours.’

Right. His father wouldn’t have put resources into the department before he’d worked out he could make money from it.

‘Tilly worked on it every spare moment she had. She added every item in the palace—with the provenance, historical use, any anecdotes—all into a database. It’s incredibly comprehensive. Took her years. She’s passionate about proper curation and care for the Crown property.’

While he’d once accused her of knowing the value of everything only because she was obsessed by money.

‘She’s an incredible asset.’

Asset. He knew Kara meant it as a compliment, but his gut tensed. Tilly was a person. One who wasn’t pathetic or lazy. She’d buried herself in the back room of a small museum space all through her late teens and early twenties. She’d tried so hard. He’d been too prejudiced to believe what was right in front of him. He glanced back at the photos of her with some of the people she’d guided through the palace. No wonder half the population of Montaurella were vociferously defending her online. Those who’d had personal contact with her knew she was genuine, relatable, honestly more regal than he and his father combined.

He sighed, regret curling through him. ‘Did she say where she was going?’

‘No.’ Kara frowned. ‘It was funny, she asked whether there’d ever been a dungeon in the palace.’

He cocked his head. She’d asked about dungeons? ‘Really?’

‘I told her the only underground space we have in the palace, aside from the jewel vault and the wine cellar, is the crypt.’

His heart stopped as he realised why she might’ve asked about that. His stupid reference—to the dungeon, to the dragon. If she went to the chapel. If she found it. If—

No.

Luca was slumped in a seat to the side of the altar. He jerked to his feet and simultaneously turned white as Alex stalked in.

‘Out,’ Alex snarled.

Wordless, breathless, the man left. Always such a coward. Alex strode to the tapestry and lifted it. The door to the crypt was open. He went back to the chapel, grabbed Luca’s heavy chair and hefted it to wedge open the gap. Sweat coated his outsides, while sick rose in. It was too easy to get locked in down there. Even though Luca would still be listening. As far as Alex knew, the coward had listened before and done nothing. At the top of the stairs his muscles stiffened but he reached for his phone and set his jaw. He trudged heavily down each step until he could see the flicker of light at the cavern below.

‘Who’s there?’ High-pitched, Tilly’s voice sounded a mile away and nervous with it.

‘You should be careful not to get locked in here,’ he muttered as he got to the cavern.

‘Alex?’ The sorrow in her voice sliced through his self-control.

‘What are you…?’ He swung his phone torch around to find her. ‘Oh, no.’

Not there. Not crouching by that heavy chain with a small cuff on the end of it. His phone slipped from his fingers.

‘Fuck.’ He turned, inadvertently kicking it further, plunging him deeper into darkness. ‘Why…?’ Rage—humiliation—overwhelmed him. ‘You know no one can hear the screams. Not even in the chapel. I tried.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’ Her voice quivered. ‘I’ll go—’