Only Asher could’ve told Renwell that name. Could’ve told him of our connection last night.
Which meant . . .
Asher knew he’d been robbed. And Renwell had taken him to the palace. To my father.
I clutched the token in my suddenly sweaty palm. A command from my father was the only reason Renwell would risk my cover now.
Something was wrong.
Melaena’s after-partywas still in full swing when I took my leave, claiming I was exhausted. She watched me leave the entertainment hall with sad eyes as the other dancers continued to eat and laugh and do silly dances on the stage as if they hadn’t a care in the world.
I felt as though I were preparing for battle.
I changed from my party dress into my plain black shirt, pants, and boots. I cinched my knives around my waist with a grimace. My cloak and neckcloth turned me into a complete shadow. Last, I tucked Renwell’s Death token into my pocket. I’d fed his note to the hearth fire moments after reading it.
I stuffed my bed with pillows and blankets to look like a sleeping body, then strode to the large, curtained window in the room. I’d already tested the latch.
After checking the street outside, I slipped out the window, easing it closed behind me. The sleeping quarters were on the second floor, situated above another set of sitting rooms. But no one should be using those tonight.The Silk Dancerwas closed to outsiders for the party.
My fingers and boots clung to the ridges in the stone wall. I crept along, praying no one was passing by this late at night. It reminded me of escaping Garyth’s study. At least there was norain tonight. But instead of escaping, I was runningtodanger. I feared what awaited me more than I feared this climb.
I passed under Melaena’s window, then navigated around the corner to the back of the building where I’d noticed a servant’s ladder when I’d done a quick study of the building.
Most of the noble houses had these ladders for servants to climb to the roof for maintenance. I’d used one to find a perch to spy on Garyth from.
I hurried down the ladder and landed in the back alley. The moon was hidden behind clouds, but I didn’t need it as I scurried along with the rats.
Eventually, I had to swerve out into the main road. Two guards waited by the torch-lit gate, the waterfall roaring behind them. They clenched their spears tighter as I approached. I took a deep breath and flashed them the Death token. They didn’t relax, but they let me through the gate.
As I crossed the bridge, the glowing palace ahead of me, I glanced down at the waterfall—something I hadn’t dared to do in years.
It was strange, knowing what was hidden beneath it. The Den. The caves. The tunnels. Only two weeks had passed since I’d clawed my way out of there with Aiden and Maz.
So much had changed. What would Aiden do if he could see me now? Especially after I told him I wouldn’t leave the club.
I climbed the dozens of white steps to the palace doors. There were nearly as many guards as there were steps. They watched me with gleaming eyes, armed with knives, spears, and clubs. Torchlight shone over their polished bronze armor.
This didn’t feel like a battle. This felt like walking to my own execution.
I nearly tripped over the last step, catching myself just in time. Two guards shoved open the heavy doors. They’d been expecting me, it seemed.
A lone figure swathed in black, just as I was, waited on the other side. The large hood only revealed a dark eye and half of an ominous smile.
Renwell.
I held my breath, waiting for him to say something, but he merely stretched out his hand. I dropped his Death token into it. He clenched his fist and sauntered toward the next set of doors, more ornate than the last. The throne room.
Heartbeat frantic, I stepped up behind him as he opened one door wide enough to slip through. I followed, and someone—a guard, probably—shoved the door shut behind me.
The sound echoed through the cavernous room, which was large enough to hold hundreds of people. But right now, it only held four.
Light from torches and chandeliers around the room made it feel brighter than day. Columns stacked on top of columns soared to the painted dome ceiling. A black marble dais led to a gold throne where my father sat amid deep purple cushions, his gold and sunstone crown firmly in place on his iron-gray hair.
It’d only been a few weeks since I’d last stood in front of him. I felt as though a dozen knives had reshaped me since then. Yet, I recalled the sting of his palm against my cheek as if it were a mere moment ago.
Asher, dressed in an embroidered jacket and pants, stood at the foot of the dais. His curls were disheveled, and he fidgeted with a broken button on his cuff.
He shot a frightened look over his shoulder at the sound of our footsteps, but he didn’t dare turn his back to Father.
