“Just for tonight…” His voice dropped. “Play the part. Pretend you don’t hate me—long enough for us to make it out alive.”
I missed a step, tripping over his foot. Shayde caught me with the arm still wrapped around my lower back, holding me steady.
“I didn’t have the pleasure of learning how to dance, Snake,” I hissed under my breath. “Some of us were too busy learning how to survive.”
He twirled me in a swift, practiced circle, then tugged me tightly against his chest. “Some of us had to learn how to survive in different ways.”
Then he dipped me low, one hand supporting the arch of my back as I let my weight fall into him. He could drop me. Right here, in front of everyone—humiliate me to the elements and spark a scene that would end in blood.
But he leaned in, close enough for our noses to almost touch, his voice just above a whisper. “If either of us can play the part well enough to survive this night…” His eyes bore into mine. “It’s you, Fitzroy.”
Shayde lifted me back to standing, but the world around me didn’t steady. My heart was betraying me—thundering in my chest like a war drum. The dancers spun in a blur around us, yet we stood still, locked in place, still tethered in each other’s arms.
To any prying eyes, we’d look like lovers caught in a spell, like a couple lost in the hush of a stolen moment.
The music stopped, and I stepped out of his arms. My chest rose and fell in quick succession as I tried to catch my breath.
“Fallon. We have a map of their stronghold,” Scarlet’s voice echoed through themarekem.
Whatever crossed my face made Shayde’s eyes widen. Without a word, he took my hand and led me from the dance floor. We slipped through the crowd to an alcove in the wall. He snagged twoflutes from a passing server and handed one to me, mouthing a single word, “Rhodes.”
I gave a slight nod.
“Perfect timing,” I murmured under my breath.“Are there any suspicious rooms or doors that lead nowhere? How many levels are we dealing with?”
I brought the flute to my lips, letting the bubbles mask the tension rising in my throat as Scarlet responded.
“There are five mapped floors—but the strange part is, one level is completely missing. There’s also a sublevel, but it’s blank. No markings, no labels, nothing. Just… empty space.”
My fingers tapped against the flute as I mulled that over.“That can’t be right. There has to be something down there.”
“I thought the same thing,” Scarlet said. “So Rhodes and I sifted through ourmarekem’sand cross-referenced the maps with everything we know about Mageia. The castles are nearly identical—with only a few subtle differences. Theirmarekemis open now… but Rhodes can’t access Shayde’s blocked memories from before.”
Shayde shifted beside me, his jaw tightening. I could tell he was in silent conversation with Rhodes. His throat bobbed as he downed the rest of his champagne and set the glass aside. Then he leaned in, voice low so only I could hear.
“There was a section of Mageia’s sublevel that used to be kitchens,” he murmured. “The Grim made me deliver drops through a dumbwaiter that looked like a solid brick wall—one of her illusions. If these castles mirror each other, and if she’s behind this drop too, I’d bet on the Mareki that’s where it’s happening.”
I met his eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “Scarlet, did you get that?”
A pause. Then—
“Yes.”
“Looks like we’re going down,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Shayde’s mouth pressed into a line as he offered his elbow. I looped my arm through his, and we moved with practiced ease through the glitter. No one spared us a glance—just another masked pair.
He guided us around the ballroom’s edge to a narrow staircase curling upward. We climbed in silence, my heels clicking softly against stone.
At the top, a walkway bridged the hall, offering a sweeping view of the dancers below. Music carried up, muted but steady, as masked bodies twirled—oblivious to two intruders closing in on whatever secret hid under their feet.
We passed a few couples lingering in the corridor, too wrapped up in each other to notice us. After a turn, Shayde opened a narrow door to a butler’s closet and motioned me in. The cramped space smelled of old wood and polish. He shut the door with a quiet click.
His hand grazed my shoulder as he slipped past, heat flaring beneath my skin. Without a word, he shoved a rack of dusty supplies aside, revealing a hidden door set into the wall—older than the castle, its edges worn and warped.
The air thickened with the scent of mildew and damp earth as we descended a rickety staircase cloaked in shadows. I considered ripping off his tungsten choker so he could summon a flame, but dismissed the thought.
Our eyes adjusted to the gloom as we reached the bottom level of the castle. A narrow hallway stretched before us, thick with cobwebs and chilled air that whispered past our skin. I winced at the echo of my heels, each step a sharp note in the silence.
