Cecily rapidly despaired of any attempt to remember their route through the immense fortress. I’ll find a map, she reassured herself. Or I’ll force someone to show me the way. When they unexpectedly stepped out into the open air, terror swept through her. Her hands flew to her throat. She waited for the prick of the needles, the agony of the toxin sweeping through her body—but the collar remained static and benign. Peering around her, she saw they had entered a vast courtyard, somewhere in the interior of the palace. It’s not being in the open air that’s the trigger, she reasoned. It must be moving beyond the outer walls. Turrets rose above their heads, silhouetted against the setting sun. At the eastern end of the plaza, at least a hundred yards away, stood a scarlet and green pavilion, glittering with lights and topped by dozens of pennants. “The Rajah celebrates the birth of the new moon this evening,” Sarita volunteered. “I suspect that you’re to be the main entertainment at the festival.”
