We found what remained of an old, abandoned kitchen. Rusted pots still hung on broken hooks, and soot stained the crumbling hearth. Shayde moved through the space with unnerving familiarity. Past what used to be a wood-fired oven, we stopped in front of a solid brick wall.
He glanced over his shoulder to ensure we were alone and then stepped forward—vanishing clean through the bricks without a sound.
I took a breath, set my jaw, and followed.
The illusion gave way to a narrow room, musty and forgotten. Shelves lined the walls, and at the far end sat a dumbwaiter door, partially rotted but intact. Shayde’s boots scraped against the stone as he approached and reached for the handle. With deliberate care, he pulled the warped door open.
My heart surged with the thrill of uncovering another piece of the Mareki’s Key—only to plummet when Shayde stepped aside, his expression unreadable. I could feel his eyes on me, but mine stayed locked on the empty dumbwaiter. I couldn’t bear to meet the disappointment I feared in his gaze.
Soft, frantic words slipped out. “No, no, no…”
I reached the edge. Stale air brushed my face like a warning. And then—something caught my eye.
A rectangular piece of parchment lay flat on the dumbwaiter floor. I reached with trembling fingers and knew the markings at once—the missing map of Tyria’s castle.
I turned slowly, holding it up for Shayde to see, skepticism rising with every breath.
He was going to mock me. I could already picture the smug tilt of his mouth, the arrogant drawl that would push me over theedge. I’d storm out of this cursed masquerade, leave him to fend for himself, and make the trek home alone.
But none of that came. His expression didn’t hold mockery. Or pity. It held something else entirely.
His brows furrowed as he stepped forward and gently took the parchment from my hand. His eyes swept over it, scanning every inch as if solving a puzzle. And for once, I saw it—we were equally confused. This drop wasn’t what either of us expected.
It was almost as if he believed in my theory completely—and didn’t want to admit it might be a failure.
“This floor looks almost like a replica of Mageia’s fourth level,” he said, voice low as his gaze lifted to mine. “Does anything on Mageia’s fourth floor mean anything to you?”
The way he looked at me—like he trusted my intuition enough to believe this wasn’t a complete failure—tightened my throat. I racked my memory, running through every hallway, every room I’d crept through at Mageia.
Then my sister read my mind.
“The Eternal Tomb.”
Shayde frowned as he repeated it under his breath. “The Eternal Tomb…”
I nodded, heart thudding. “The bookshelf you scrutinized the night I slipped into Mageia and broke your nose—that’s the hidden entrance to the Eternal Tomb. That’s where the Mareki rests.”
Recognition flared in his eyes. He looked back down at the map, tracing a spot with his finger. “Right here. If this were Mageia, the bookshelf would be here.”
“For some reason, these two castles were built almost identically,” I said, the realization forming faster than I could speakit. “If Tyria knows the Eternal Tomb is a magically veiled corridor inside the castle, they must be searching for their own version.”
I hesitated, the thought clicking into place.
“Where maybe…” I started.
“Where maybe the last piece of the Mareki’s Key is hiding,” Shayde finished, voice low.
My thoughts spun. One part of the Key was found within Mageia’s walls, where the Mareki Gem rests. Another was gifted to Scarlet in the Shadow Glade—who we now know has a shard of the Gem. And the last known shard rests in the hands of Tyria, which means the final tome must be here somewhere.
Where else but a magically hidden corridor only Scarlet and I can access?
Shayde gently rolled the map and tucked it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. We slipped out of the sublevel and back through the butler’s closet. The swell of strings assured us the party was still in full swing.
As we stepped into the hallway, a group of tipsy men passed, laughing. One clapped Shayde on the back while another lifted a hand for a sloppy high five. Shayde returned it without hesitation, blending in seamlessly. They whooped and stumbled toward the ballroom.
“Brutes,” I snorted.
We kept a casual pace, angling toward the nearest turret, careful not to draw attention. Adrenaline thrummed in my veins, but I couldn’t stop the grin tugging at my lips. One final step, and this mission would be a success.
