“I’mimmortal!” She practically bares her teeth at me, still leaning heavily on the railing. “When will you understand that, Basten? At worst, my powers will fade to human level.Yourlevel. Still strong enough.”
I stalk in a tight, predatory circle. “I’m trying to help you. You’re too damn proud. You used to take what I offered with open hands, wide eyes. Used tobegme for it.”
Her cheeks blaze pink. “That was before a kiss might accidentally drain you dry.”
A whiff of sandalwood and saddle leather hits my nose, slamming into my lungs like a bolt of lightning, and the heat from our argument shifts to the thrill of the chase.
I whip my head around to the southern hallway, resting a hand on the hunting knife at my side.
“He’s close,” I say, then smell the air again. “Faith Tower.”
Her eyes meet mine, full of fire. She doesn’t ask permission. Hell, the opposite. There’s practically a challenge burning in her expression as she sprints toward the Faith Tower.
My hand tightens on the knife hilt. I don’t call her back—what would be the point? She’s already half a world ahead of me, headed somewhere I can’t follow.
I hate this. How we move more like clashing swords than husband and wife.
I watch her run, her silver glow flickering in the darkened halls. She’s burning herself down to the wick.
I run after her, catching up fast, and we pass beneath the archway to Faith Tower like two competitors racing to the finish. She leans against the spiral stairs; a hand pressed to her belly as she fights to catch her breath.
All five towers in Hekkelveld Castle contain a narrow, steep spiral staircase winding up through its center. At each floor, the staircase opens onto a circular landing surrounded by a ring of doors—each door leading to rooms arranged around the outer edge of the tower.
On the third floor, six doors ring the perimeter. I think back to the architectural maps Kendan tried to drill into my head, when I was more interested in scowling at the painting of Rian in the Council Room, barking for the servants to take the damn thing down and burn it.
Sabine starts to speak, but I hold up a finger. “I need to listen—he’s close.”
If memory serves, Faith Tower’s second and third floors house the lower castle staff, six to a bunk room. The senior staff are on the fourth and fifth floors. Each of the rooms here are filled with sounds of rustling sheets, sleep-sighs, crackling fires.
I frown, concentrating, listening for the telltale clatter of Rian’s bone dice. I step from one door to another, pressing my ear to the wood, frustration drumming against my ribs.
“He isn’t in any of—” A soft clatter grabs my attention, and I jerk my head toward the wall between the fifth and sixth bunk rooms.
I approach softly, keeping my own noise to a minimum, and rest my fingers against the wall. It’s a type of plaster; gypsum, I think. I knock, feeling for a hollow section between two wooden studs.
There—again. The clink-clink of bone dice in his pocket.
“He’s in the walls,” I mutter.
I pull back my fist and slam it straight into the wall. Plaster splinters, a crack giving way beneath my knuckles. Blood blooms across my hand, but I pull back and throw another punch.
A few confused cries come from the bunk rooms, where the noise has roused the maids. I ignore them, tuning my hearing to focus only on the sounds inside the wall.
It’s a scuttling. Scrambling, like a rat.
Abigfucking rat.
With a growl, I slam my fist into the plaster again. It shatters, chunks raining down and releasing a cloud of whitewash dust. I tear at the pieces, ripping through the wall to create an opening. The wooden beams on either side are barely more than a foot apart—this castle is old enough that they used oak, solid as steel.
I shove my shoulder between the beams, gritting my teeth as I strain to squeeze through to the gap on the other side into Rian’s secret passageway.
The beams scrape at my clothes, digging splinters into my chest. I grimace, pushing harder, but I can barely fit my head through.
“Fuck!” I cry.
Sabine tugs on my arm, her face flushed, her heartbeat as vicious as my own. “I can fit through,” she breathes. “I’ll flush him out. You follow the sounds of our chase and be ready to catch him wherever he exits.”
Gods, she might be weakened, but her appetite for vengeance is as sharp as ever.
