They emerged into the lower kitchens at the height of the feast’s chaos. Cooks shouted orders. Spit-boys turned carcasses of strange, dark-fleshed beasts over roaring fires. No one noticed three extra bodies slipping through the steam and smoke, heading for the servants’ stair.
And everywhere, the queen’s mark: a spiral of thorns carved into every surface, pulsing with a faint, sickly light. Overthrow- The Demon Queen 1
But the Heartstone was not.
The queen was laughing.