I slide out of the gap, shaking chunks of plaster out of my sweat-soaked hair. Sabine hikes up her skirt and steps over the rubble, her small frame easily slipping between the narrow studs. She looks back at me, reaching out a hand.
I clasp hers, a strange, tender wallop in my chest. “Together, little violet.”
My damn voice breaks.
She cocks her head. “I meant for you to give me one of your knives.”
I blink, stung, but act fast, tugging a small blade from the holster in my boot and sliding the hilt into her palm.
She starts to duck into the wall gap, but pauses, and emerges again.
For a moment, I see the same deep love in her eyes as when she stood beneath a bower of branches and agreed to be my wife.
“Basten?” She clenches my hand, hard enough that nothing could tear us apart, and whispers, “Together. Always.”
And my heart pounds again with hope.
Then, she’s swallowed by the darkness.
I listen for her movements on the other side of the wall; her dress scrapes against the narrow passageway, splinters catching on velvet and lace. Ifshecan barely fit, Rian must be packed in there like a sausage.
Good. It’ll slow him down.
I bolt ahead, skirting around the backside of the spiral stairs, my senses sharp as blades as I pick up on any whiff of sandalwood, any clatter of bone dice.
The sounds of Sabine’s movements move further and further away; the secret passage is taking her back through other rooms, where I can’t easily follow.
“Shit.” I try a bunkroom doorknob. Locked. So, I slam my shoulder against it and burst into a room with squealing young maids bolting upright in their beds.
“M—majesty!” one of them cries, clutching the blankets high over her nightgown. The others quickly move to bow as best they can in their beds.
I power through their room, only glancing at the beds to make sure Rian isn’t hiding under one, and then slam through the door on the opposite side that leads to the servants’ hallway. A steward carting a load of firewood drops his bundle in surprise as I storm past him.
My heart slams like a stallion as I run my fingers over the walls, feeling for vibrations, listening for the telltale scramble of someone moving inside.There. About a hundred feet ahead—I hear Sabine’s skirt drag against brick. Then, another scuffle, about a hundred feet ahead ofher. Someone substantially larger is struggling to fit through the passage.
“Got you, you bastard,” I mutter from a clenched jaw. Now, I just have to figure out how to reach him. It’s a damn maze between the servants’ rooms, the main halls, the servants’ halls, and the secret passages, which wind and twist to their own chaotic logic.
I hurl myself through a door, finding myself in the third-floor servants’ sitting room. It’s empty now, the benches tidily stacked to one side, a basket of wool ready for tomorrow’s spinning.
Two doors lead to the rest of the castle, but fuck if I know where. I’ve never been in these sections before.
I pick the door on the left and shove through, stopping short when I come out in the formal hallway that overlooks the Reliquary Garden. Wind rattles the windowpanes, and I spare a glance down at the tombs looming in the moonlight, licking my lips to taste the air.
A woman’s cry, muffled by walls, snags my attention.
Sabine.
Adrenaline rockets through my limbs as I hurtle forward, charging down the hallway and into the main portion of the castle. There’s no sign of the guards who should be posted here—they must have followed Captain Fernsby’s orders to scour the city for Rian.
“Basten!” Sabine calls, and I pivot sharply toward the sound, a moth to flame. I stampede past the grand stairs, only to pause. To listen.
Her voice…she’s descending to the second floor.
I double back, leaping over the railing and taking the stairs three at a time as I charge downward. At the landing, I stop, fighting to quiet my breath so I can hear.
She’s still moving down.First floor.
I charge downward toward Raven Hall, and my eyes latch onto the entryway fireplace. It’s enormous, tall enough for a man to stand upright, and wide enough for two men to lie flat. It’s cold now—only lit in the harshest days of winter.
