I tossed and turned in one of the beds in the dancers’ sleeping quarters. Sleep brought nightmares. Consciousness offered little better.
But I was alive. I’d convinced Aiden I wasn’t a spy, although he seemed to burrow closer and closer to that truth. Would he kill me then?
The skin at my throat tingled as if remembering the cold edge of his knife there. Gods, I’d never felt so vulnerable and afraid. But then he’d seemed to come back to himself, horrified by what he’d done.
His remorse should have brought me some level of peace, but nothing about this brought me any.
Triumph, maybe, that I finally knew his intentions without a doubt. Really, that had been the only answer I was left with.
Frustration, because I still didn’t know his whole plan. I had yet to even see the gold, let alone see what he did with it. Was that one of the things he had to “sort out?” But he’d essentially imprisoned me here until he was ready.
And fear... fear of discovery, fear of what I’d agreed to, fear for my family.
It was strange how my goal of seeing Everett on the throne mirrored that of Aiden’s. Although, I hadn’t planned on murdering my father to see it done.
There had to be another way. But would Aiden listen? Would my father? Would anyone?
Aiden sought revenge for a lifetime of injustice. I understood that. But killing a king... so many things could go wrong. My father had planted many allies in the ranks of the nobles and the army—anywhere he believed held power. He’d had decades to establish himself.
What kind of crumbling kingdom would my brother be ruling amid my father’s supporters?
Someone knocked on the door, and I sighed, throwing off my twisted blankets. There were four beds in each room, and Melaena had given me the only unclaimed one. A few of the dancers had wandered in throughout the day, dumping their stuff or taking quick naps. But Tullia and Jayde weren’t among them. They must live in the other room.
I trudged barefoot to the door and opened it to see Elias, Melaena’s servant boy. The nervous one. He held out a sealed envelope, which shook like a leaf in his hand.
“F-for Katerina,” he said.
“Katerina,” I repeated blankly. “Who told you that name?”
“Th-the messenger who came to the front door. He said this was for Katerina, the new dancer.” The boy’s eyes begged me to take the envelope as if it were burning his hands.
Only Asher knew that name. Why would he send me a message?
I gingerly took it from the boy’s hands, and he fled.
The envelope was heavier than I expected. And lumpy.
I closed the bedroom door and took it back to my bed. A single blob of gold wax sealed the envelope, imprinted by something round and flat. No insignia. A coin maybe?
I broke the seal and pulled out a single piece of thick white parchment.
Join me for a late dinner tonight.
—A.
Something shifted in the bottom of the envelope. I shook it out.
My heart dropped.
Death’s skull leered up at me.
Renwell’s token. The one I used to get in and out of the palace.
This message wasn’t from Asher. It was from Renwell. He wanted me to come to the palace tonight. He must’ve heard that I was atThe Silk Dancer. I shuddered to think how.
I picked up the Death and Four tile, rubbing my thumb over its etched black-stone surface.
The messenger had said, “Katerina.”
