Unless what I’d seen was old. Unless the mirror had shown me what Iwantedto see, rather than what actually was.
More sounds now. Footsteps, multiple sets, moving with purpose. Coming from outside.
Panic fluttered in my chest. I needed to hide, to regroup, to find another way out. The foyer offered little concealment, and I’d already spent my one guaranteed escape route getting in.
The footsteps grew louder. No longer muffled by distance, they had the distinctive sharp report of boots on hardwood.Militaryprecision.
My thoughts fragmented, terror threatening to overwhelm reason. I spotted an antique grandfather clock and slipped behind it, pressing my back to the wall, willing my racing heart to quiet. The clock’s steady ticking seemed impossibly loud in my ears, counting down seconds I might not have.
What would Mother do? She would remain calm. Would assess the situation logically. Would find a way to turn disaster into advantage.
But I wasn’t Mother. I was Amabel, the careful twin, the planner, the one who avoided direct confrontation. I excelled at strategy, at manipulation from a distance. This, being in the enemy’s stronghold and facing imminent discovery, was Eluned’s territory.Shewas the bold one, the fighter.
Except Eluned had failed. Had been captured. Might already be dead.
Anger flared, hot and bright, momentarily eclipsing my fear. Eluned’s recklessness had brought us to this point! Her inability to follow the simplest instructions had jeopardized everything we’d worked for! If she’d just waited, if she’d stuck to the plan, we wouldn’t be in this mess!
I needed to create a diversion, something to separate them so I could find where they were keeping my sister or, at the very least, escape myself.
With trembling fingers, I reached into my other pocket and withdrew a small cardboard box. To an untrained eye, the cards inside might have resembled tarot, but these were glyph cards, each one painstakingly enchanted over three years of secret work. When activated, the glyphs embedded in the cards would release a dense, dark smoke that quickly condensed into physical tendrils capable of ensnaring an enemy. Not permanently. Anyone with a bit of power could break free within half an hour, but that was long enough for me to escape.
The footsteps drew nearer. I pressed myself harder against the wall, willing myself to become part of the shadows. The web I’d cast over the door would hold one of them, two if I was lucky, but it wouldn’t stop all three.
And what about Eluned?
I pushed away the whisper of guilt. She had made her choice when she rushed ahead without a real plan. When she got herself captured. Mother would understand the necessity of retreat. Of preserving what could be saved rather than risking everything on a failed mission.
“Blood binds,” I whispered, my tongue tracing the scar across my palate from childhood rites, “but power breaks.”
The heavy footsteps paused right outside the front door. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the chill of my damp clothes, and my heart hammered so violently, I knew they could hear it with their enhanced senses.
This was it. The moment my hastily woven trap over the door would be triggered. I tensed, prepared to spring out from behind the clock and throw my cards the instant the web activated. Best case scenario, I’d ensnare two of them in the web and one with a glyph card, then escape in the resulting chaos.
A laughably optimistic plan, but the only one I had.
I took a deep, silent breath, gathering my courage. One chance. I would haveone chance.
The seconds stretched, my nerves drawn taut as bowstrings. Why weren’t they entering? Had they sensed my trap? Were they waiting for me to reveal myself?
The glyph cards bit into my palm. Fifty-two of them, each inked with stolen power that hummed against my skin.
Toss three cards, then retreat,I told myself.Two if the web holds one. Four ifshe’salong—
The door exploded inward.
Silhouettes crowded the threshold. Too tall, too broad, tooeverything. I met a pair of green eyes like glacial ice and realized too late my fatal error.
The Cimmerians weren’t only monster hunters.
They were monsters themselves.
And I’d walked straight into their den.
25. Like for Like
Casimir
I opened my eyes at 4:27 a.m., precisely three minutes before my alarm. I always did. Years of Father’s training had programmed my internal clock to near-perfection, a trait my brothers had never quite mastered.
