The royal soldiers pour through the gates and out into the dark streets, pushing through the rapidly growing crowd coming to stare at the fae miracle. It seems like more and more people appear by the second. Even at this late hour, word must be traveling lightning-quick through Old Coros.
A miracle?
No—call it by its real name. Abetrayal.
I lurch toward the gates, fey already sparking at my fingertips, but Basten stops me with a touch on my wrist.
“Sabine, wait.” He drops his voice. “No—he’s here. He’s still in the castle. I know how he thinks.”
I pause. “He hid in the walls once, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that again.”
“He would,” Basten insists, “precisely because no one would expect him to.”
He jerks his head back toward the castle. In the chaos of soldiers rushing out the gates, the public growing in number by the minute to fawn all over the gods’ “gift” of vengeance, and lamps switching on all over the city, I barely know what to do.
But even with the distance between us, Basten has always been my North Star—and he knows Rian almost as well as he knows himself.
I nod.
The two of us run away from the crowd of soldiers, rushing into the castle as everyone else is pouring out.
Chapter 26
Basten
As we sprint through Raven Hall, I unlatch my heavy sword and let it clatter to the ground. It’s the weapon of a king, not a hunter. I need to be light on my feet. Lithe, fast. And lord knows I have enough knives strapped on me to skin a herd of deer.
Sabine heads for the grand staircase, but I stop in the center of the foyer, right on the raven mosaic, and tilt my head toward the high ceiling.
When she doesn’t hear my footsteps beside her, she stops on the first step, one hand on the stone railing, and looks back.
“What is it?” she asks, following my gaze toward the ceiling.
“I need to listen.” I drop to one knee, resting my head on my fist, and close my eyelids.
Hekkelveld Castle is surprisingly quiet at night. Not like Sorsha Hall, which was filled with the sounds of debauchery ‘til dawn, or Drahallen Hall, where the fae hardly know day from night. Sure, it’s a cavernous structure, filled with hundreds of people on any given night, so even at midnight, there are still sounds of night sentries pacing, maids and stewards cleaning, dozens of people snoring.
I’m listening for something specific.
I’m listening for…
There.
The unique clatter of the two bone dice in Rian’s pocket.
“Third floor,” I say as I explode to my feet. Sabine hoists her skirt, and together, we race up the stairs. Back and forth, back and forth. Six flights. She keeps pace with me, not a flicker of slowing down, but when we reach the third landing, she grips the railing to catch her breath.
Her silver glow dims, flickering like dying firelight. She’s weakened. Malnourished, for a fae. And yet I’m struck by the absolute certainty that even diminished, she’s the most beautiful, vicious creature to walk the earth in ten thousand years.
“You need rest,” I say, cupping her chin to tilt her face to meet mine. “Stay here and guard the stairs in case he tries to come back down this way.”
Her eyes, sunken and tired, flash with a defiant spark. “Like hell.I’mgoing after him.”
I let out a sharp, growling exhale. “Then at least drink from me first.” Moving fast, I start to roll up my sleeve.
She slaps my hand away, turning her head. “I said no—I’m not risking you.”
“Sabine, you’ll die like this!”
