Free The Crown of Embers by Rae Carson Page B

only weeks after one of his brethren martyred himself in my city?
    I ask the old man, “How long has this village been here?”
    “Almost as long as Brisadulce itself. But we live and do business above ground too, in the Wallows. We are Your Majesty’s loyal subjects.”
    “I’m glad to know it.” I have so many questions. But my legs begin to tremble, and my breath comes too hard. I need to make an exit before my weakened state is too apparent. “When Lo Chato returns, tell him I require his presence in the palace. He will not be harmed. I wish only to speak with him. I’ll leave word with my mayordomo that he is to be received at once.”
    The old man inclines his head in what I presume is the only kind of bow his body will manage. “You should know that he is a private, reclusive person. He will be wary of your summons.”
    “Then you must convince him. I would be very disappointed if he did not come.” I pause long enough to see understanding in the faces below. Then I bid them good day and gesture for my entourage to retreat.
    “Tyrant!” someone yells at my back, and I whirl.
    The people shift uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze, and I can’t tell who the heckler is. “Fernando,” I say, clenching my fists. “Fire a warning shot.”
    He looses the arrow at once. It thuds into the ground at the old man’s feet. Its fletched tail vibrates with impact, as the crowd recoils.
    “Do not, ” I say, “add sedition to your transgressions.”
    I turn away and head into the tunnel, Hector and Ximena at my back. During our return journey, I nearly trip over myself more than once, so lost am I in thought. It was a small group—maybe sixty people. Why so few? Is the secret of the village so well guarded? Have they climbed the ledge and traveled this path to reach the catacombs? Was the heckler expressing the feelings of the whole group? Maybe the whole city?
    Most disturbing of all is the mysterious man called Lo Chato. He could be my assassin. And I have invited him to my threshold. But the Belleza Guerra devotes a whole chapter to the art of keeping one’s enemies close, and so long as I am cautious, I know I am doing the right thing.
    By the time we reach Alejandro’s tomb, my breath comes in gasps and pain shoots through my side. I want nothing more than a mug of spiced wine and a day of sleep.
    Fernando asks permission to stay behind. “I’d like to experiment with this opening a bit,” he says, gesturing toward the gaping hole we just climbed out of. “I want to see how it opens from beneath, determine how often it is used.”
    “Please do. We must keep it guarded from now on.”
    “I’ll take care of it.”
    “I’ll have breakfast sent to you. Not from the barracks.”
    He bows formally, but his lips twitch.
    When we reach my suite, I don’t bother changing into my nightgown. Ximena helps me shuck my boots, then I loosen the ties of my pants and collapse into bed, which is made up with freshly laundered sheets, thanks to Mara. They’re still warm, and I burrow into my pillows, catching the faint scent of rosewater. Truly, my bed is the greatest place in the world.
    I am drifting away when an idea startles me awake. “Hector?” I blink to fight off sleep.
    “Here,” he says from the foot of my bed.
    “Do we have contacts in the Wallows? I’d like to pinpoint the cave’s location from the surface, find out all we can about it.”
    “I’ll look into it, Majesty.”
    “And please stop calling me Majesty in private. It makes me grit my teeth.”
    He nods with exaggerated solemnity. “I’d hate for you to ruin your teeth on my behalf.”
    “If that happened, I’d have no choice but to follow the general’s lead and order your execution.” I make a vague gesture and say, “Off with his head!” And then my face burns with my own crass inappropriateness.
    But Hector chuckles deep in his throat, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. Softly he says, “My life has ever been yours,