We sit in silence, both of us hovering on the edge of indecision, and I think she will not answer.
“Melantha.”
Another tiny smile curves across my lips. I fold her name up like a secret scribed on parchment and store it in the shallows of my soul. “Thank you, Melantha.”
She frowns, and I wonder how long it’s been since someone last called her by her name. “Can you stand?”
I grit my teeth and push myself to my feet. When I sway, she loops a hand around my waist.
“Lean on me as much as you need. Now, should we get out of this gods-damned palace?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Slowly, we make our way through the dark rooms and into the empty hall beyond. Hardening my resolve, I push through the pain.
It’s nighttime. The world beyond the windows is dark, and the halls are lit only by the faint glow of auras lining the walls.
When we make it to the next hall, a shadow darts forward from an alcove, moving too fast for me to react in my weakened state. Still, I lift my arm and pull it back, ready to swing. Myna captures my wrist as the shadow collides with me. Every part of my body burns from the impact, and I gasp in pain.
“Aella.” My name is a small, private whisper in my ear—dripping with fear and relief. But the sound of Nyssa’s voice is the sweetest one I’ve ever heard.
I wrap my arms around her, returning the embrace. Even as it burns my skin to do so. Even as it makes my chest constrict. The feeling lessens when she pulls back, cupping the sides of my face. Her eyes darken when she takes in the bloodied mess of my body.
“I’ll kill that fucking prince.” The violence in her voice has my throat tightening.
“I think you’ll have to get in line,” another voice says, and my blood turns to ice in my veins as Titaia steps from the shadows.
“It’s okay,” Myna says beside me when she senses my body tensing. “She’s the one who helped us get you out. The door to the room was marked to allow only those of Keres’s blood through. Just like the passage.”
My eyes dart back to Titaia’s face, noting the pallor of her usually glowing skin and grief pooling in her eyes. “I sought them out as soon as I realized you were missing and had not taken ill like Keres was leading the court to believe.”
Something in my chest warms at the realization that I’ve found a genuine friend in her. A beautiful bloom, standing tall in a field of rotting weeds. But then the usual panic sets in, my breath coming faster.
“What about you?” I ask. “Keres will realize someone from his family helped us escape.”
“I’m going north.” She hesitates before adding, “With a friend. But you don’t need to worry about that. You need to get out of here.”
I reach out, grasping her hand and giving it a squeeze. A slightgesture, but it’s all I can manage right now. “Thank you,” I say, holding her gaze so she can see how deeply I mean those words.
“We will meet again, Aella.” Titaia squeezes my hand back before spinning on her heel and hurrying down a shadowed corridor. I watch the darkness swallow her, praying to the gods she is right.
“What’s the plan?” I whisper as Myna and Nyssa lead me down the hall.
“Most of the court is asleep or at the prince’s party,” Myna replies. “We’ll head through the kitchens and take the servants’ sky-carriage down the mountain.”
I nod, a silent agreement passing between us. The air feels heavier now, the tension unspoken but palpable. We continue the rest of the way in silence, our footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. As we near the kitchens, the faint clatter of pots and the murmur of voices drift through the air, but we don’t slow down. Instead, we pick up the pace, urgency driving us forward. Finally, the door leading to the sky-carriages looms before us, its wooden framework casting long shadows in the dim light.
This is it—the threshold to whatever comes next. Freedom calls to me like a siren song, urging my feet to move faster despite the pain. Myna pulls the door open—and we all freeze.
A young servant stands similarly frozen in front of us, arm outstretched and eyes wide with shock.
Despite the signs of being aGoiteían—or being on the receiving end of Keres’s withering touch—she’s still so young. An innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Indecision wars in my gut, panic creeping in. But the fear etched into her face twists something deep in my chest.
“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I glance at Myna, tension rolling off her in waves. My heart pounds as I step forward, raising a hand. “We don’t want to hurt you,” I say, my voice shaking.
