I shook my head. “But—”
“Hava,” he whispered. “She could be Hava. I don’t know for sure, but if I’m right, you know what will happen to you.” His eyes dipped to my chest.
I sighed. If Jules was Hava, the Valalumir would activate. I’d be incapacitated. And we might not escape.
“Swear,” Rhyan said. “Swear you’ll let me do it. You’ll wait.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding, every inch of my body rebelling. But he was right. “I swear.”
“Good girl,” he said, and reached out to squeeze my hand.
I stared down at the floor, at the purple tiles, their color darker and more jewel-toned in the night. I focused on taking deep breaths, on the weight of the invisible weapons at my hip. I imagined the maps, seeing my visualizations for the past month match the layout of the floor and rooms around me.
My heart started to pound harder when the tiles changed, turning to their black and white pattern. We neared the Throne Room, just as before, and I could feel the sudden warmth in my chest. The recognition of another piece of the light, of the Valalumir.
“It’s down this hall,” Tristan said quietly, but I already knew that. “And around the corner. We have to get inside first. There’s a long hall leading to where they are. No one makes a move until we’re there.”
“Only one guard?” Dario asked. “You’re sure that’s it?” He sounded suspicious.
“That’s all there was when I was there, half an hour ago,” Tristan confirmed.
Rhyan looked skeptical, but we had no way of knowing if that was still true. I didn’t think Tristan would lie. But Kormac could have easily shifted how many guards were on duty.
Unless what he was doing was truly meant to be kept secret. I knew the room. It was in the blueprints Rhyan’s father had shown us. And only those. Which meant most nobles didn’t know it existed. And if he was Emperor now, he’d want to keep it that way. Unless … unless it was simply because something horrible was happening in there. Something he didn’t want the others to see.
“Ready, partner?” Rhyan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The door Tristan had described, that I’d seen pictures of, was now in view. And behind it was Jules.
“I’m ready,” I said, a fire burning inside me. It wasn’t my power, it wasn’tRakashonim, or the Valalumir, or my contract with Mercurial. It was the anger that had been burning inside me since I’d heard those two simple words.
She’s alive.
I thought I’d be more nervous. More afraid. But I wasn’t. I was furious. And I was getting Jules back no matter what.
We stopped in front of the door, and I turned around, seeking out Meera. I spotted her easily despite the disguise. I knew the way she held herself, the way she stood.
There was no need for communication. We both reached for each other’s hands. Her eyes watered—or rather, the tough, middle-aged soturion’s eyes watered. Then she nodded, her chin firm. I could feel her aura, watery and sharp. And full of vengeance.
“Wait,” Meera commanded. “Everyone listen to me now. If Kormac’s in there, he has more than just the safety of the room and the guard protecting him. He has chayatim. Mind readers. They may all be under a blood oath, or a blood contract. No matter what you see in there, ignore it. You need to think like your role, not just act your part. You need to think about it with every thought. You need to be the soturion loyal to him, following his orders, and happy to do so.If the vorakh sense otherwise, they’ll alert him. And he’ll call for backup before we’re ready.”
I gasped. She was right. And of course, after being around Morgana so much, this was second nature to Meera. This was what Arianna had done. How she’d evaded anyone learning the truth for years. That and the elixirs made of stolen power from the chayatim. Imperator Hart had ordered us all to drink before we arrived at the Palace, carefully hiding our plan regarding the shield. But we had no protection against our thoughts around what we planned to do now.
“Control what they see,” I said.
“Control what they think,” Meera murmured.
Everyone nodded, faces grim. We approached the door.
Tristan knocked with a swift combination of beats.
A minute seemed to pass, and then it opened. A bald soturion poked out his head, and eyed Tristan up and down. He wore the Emperor’s armor. But I knew a Kormac when I saw one. His eyes were beady, his mouth wolfish and cruel.
“Tell His Majesty, Lord Tristan said it’s done.”
The soldier nodded, and the door closed.
My heart started to pound. And then the door opened again.
