A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)
A Game of Hearts and Heists: Chapter 26

The tunnel under the old palace grounds is nightmare dark. I take the lead, then Remy, then Morrigan and Scarlett following up the rear. The closer we get to my father’s territory, the louder my heart beats. This was a stupid idea. I’m never going to get through the palace undetected. And what happens when one of my father’s staff realises who I am?

It takes half an hour to cross the grounds and reach the palace cellar. I shuffle as close to the cellar door as possible and nudge it open inch by inch.

I place my hand on the door, praying the palace remembers me. It should. I spent enough time here during those early years after The Tearing. I know it’s been a while since I visited, but I’m hoping its memory is long. The door is heavy, but it opens without resistance. I audibly sigh, relief washing through me as the familiar pressure of magic slides over my skin, testing, assessing and finally greeting me with the sweet scents of cinnamon and mint, woody smoke, leather-bound books and metal. This palace’s power is more eclectic than the one in New Imperium. After The Tearing, its magic was… volatile shall we say. Two men had various limbs severed because they pissed off the palace. Entrance is not guaranteed. I stroke the wood, silently thanking the palace for welcoming me.

“The walls are hollow,” I mouth and pull out the floor plan. Scarlett sketched on the route she thought we should follow back in the warehouse. I trace the route with my finger, trying to remember the route through the house. Once we’re inside the walls, there won’t be room to pull maps out and check. I’ll be guiding us from memory.

“Have you got it memorised?” Scarlett says.

I fold the map shut. “The riskiest part is the stairs. There are no stairs inside the walls, so we have to exit the walls, go up the staff staircase and then back into the walls to the other side of the palace.”

“I remember the palace floor plan, and I’ll be right behind you in case you forget,” Morrigan says.

I move to the back of the cellar and feel along the walls until I find the ridge under the wallpaper.

“There you are.” I push on the ridge and then push both hands along the edge. The wall clicks open and swings wide.

But the walls are narrow, and we have to enter single file. When Scarlett pulls the wall door shut, it seals us in a darkness so acute it takes my breath away. The rising bubble of panic fissures under my skin.

Morrigan reaches out and finds my fingers and squeezes them. “Hold on, I’ll help.” An ember encased in a bubble flies up above me. It showers the narrow space in a warm light. I almost wish she hadn’t done it. At least in the dark, I couldn’t see the spiders crawling along the wood beams.

I take a deep breath and start walking. Foot after foot, we inch our way through the palace. No one speaking, all of us trying to keep our breathing slow, calm, and quiet. All of us lost in concentration as we make our way deeper and deeper into the palace.

We turn left and right so many times that keeping track of the turns and which room we’re in is excruciatingly difficult. I have to stop and close my eyes multiple times to make sure I haven’t led us astray, there’s no way to pull the map out in here, it’s too tight. Instead, I pull on all my childhood memories, the play time running about, and the hours I spent studying the floor plans before we left.

It takes an hour, but we reach the staff quarters and the staircase that should be located outside the wall. Scarlett leans against the wall and strains, listening for anything, pushing her Assassin trained senses to hear further, to feel deeper. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She nods, and I push and click on the wall door. It springs open, and the palace appears.

Home.

I want to run, find mother and Malachi and grasp them tight. I want to find my room, pull Scarlett inside and strip her. But more than any of that, I want to find father and tell him what Scarlett has planned.

But I can’t do any of those things.

I step out, making sure my snoody mask is pulled high, and I head straight to the staircase. It’s enclosed inside a turret wall, so thankfully, we’re only exposed for a short while.

Remy shuts the wall and follows me. We head up the turret, moving as fast as we can while remaining quiet.

We reach the second floor and it’s empty, save one member of staff.

“Shit,” I mumble. I keep my head low, trying not to make eye contact. The last thing we need when we’re this close to the map is for a member of father’s staff to recognise me.

We walk past the staff member, all of us feigning the arrogance and confidence of a magician who fought their way through The Tearing and survived.

The closer the staff member gets, the more blood roars in my ears, my heart hammering against my ribs. I glance up.

Fuck.

Her eyes land right on mine. I know her. It’s Marissa. She’s been a member of father’s team from the start, works as a farm hand. She knows me too. Though whether she’ll recognise me when I’m dressed in father’s staff uniform, I don’t know. I pull my gaze away from hers; I don’t need to give her any more time staring at me than necessary.

I risk a quick look back. The woman stops, a flicker of recognition runs through her expression. I keep walking, holding my breath, praying to the High Magician that she doesn’t put it together before we’re out of sight. She turns away, shaking her head, and I increase my pace, walking as fast as I can without arousing suspicion.

As I round the corner, my shoulders sag. One more corner and I’m punching the wall hard and fast, ripping the wall open and dragging everyone inside. I lean on my knees, not caring if I get covered in cobwebs.

Scarlett grips my shoulder. “We good?”

“We’re good. I just need a second because I knew her. I wasn’t sure if she recognised me.”

“What exactly is it your relative did for the Border Lord again?” Scarlett asks, her eyes narrowing at me.

Shit.

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