I survived. She didn’t. And it’s only a matter of time before one of the predators lying in wait slices me open from within.
Am I ready for this next part of the game I’m playing?
Nyssa stirs behind me—and my resolve hardens. My survival isn’t just about me. I cannot fall, not for Keres, not for this court, not for the Aviary. Because if I fail, Nyssa falls with me. And I will burn every throne that dares stand in our way before I see that happen.
This time, I will be the predator who hunts.
With calculated ease, the prince raises his cup in a mocking toast.
And we, helpless and bound, drink.
Another contestant dead.
The door to our chambers punctuates the thought, groaning low in protest as Nyssa pushes it open. Silence waits on the other side, thick and oppressive, magnified by the sharp snap of the latch clicking shut. The flickering aura light within does little to chase away the shadows that seem to press in closer, suffocating the room.
None of us speak.
The weight of the evening clings to us like a humid fog, settling deep into the corners of the space and into the folds of our clothes, impossible to shake off. It’s the kind of tension that digs in under your skin and refuses to leave.
I collapse into the nearest chair, its wooden frame creaking under the sudden weight. Fatigue gnaws at the edges of my mind, a relentless ache compounded by the mental strain of keeping my composure all night.
Across the room, Myna drifts to the window, her knuckles white as they clutch the edge of the sill. Her shoulders are stiff, her posture rigid. Nyssa slumps into the lounge across from me, dropping her head back against the cushion with a sharp exhale that breaks the suffocating silence.
“That was…something,” she mutters, though her voice trembles, betraying her attempt at calm. Her hands twitch in her lap, as if itching for a blade to fidget with, though they remain empty.
“Something,” I echo hollowly, running my fingers over the rough grain of the chair’s arm. My gaze drifts to the floor, unfocused, as fragments of the evening replay in my thoughts like a twisted melody on repeat. Keres’s every word, every shift in his expression, lingers—his mask shifting between charm and the predatory edge that sets my nerves on fire.
At the window, Myna finally turns, her brows knotted tight and her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not just his theatrics tonight. We still don’t have what we came for.” Her frustration is palpable, ricocheting through the room like a physical force.
The unspoken truth hangs heavy between us.
Time is running out.
The sharp click of the latch pierces the tense quiet, sending all three of us into motion. Nyssa flinches, her hand darting toward her side for a weapon that isn’t there. Myna spins on her heel, daggers seeming to materialize in her hands, their polished surfaces catching the dim light. My heart leaps into my throat, but the tension eases when Raven strides in, his golden eyes sweeping the room. Shadows pool in their depths, unreadable and heavy with thought as they land on me.
“Before you say anything,” I start, cutting off whatever reprimand is brewing behind his tight expression, “the answer is yes, I behaved.”
Raven’s smirk is subtle, and yet it captures me in a way nothing else can. I hate that it makes my heart race, that it feels like a secret meant for me alone. Perhaps what I hate most is that I don’t hate it at all.
“You’re here in one piece, at least,” Heron says, his tone flat and heavy with exhaustion. My eyes narrow on him as he leans against the wall. “Which is good, because I need to steal your handmaidens.”
I sit up straighter. “What for?”
Raven exchanges a glance with Myna, something unspoken passing between them before he answers. “I need to go back to Keres’s rooms tonight,” he says firmly. “He knows something—more than we initially thought. If there’s any clue to the weapon’s location, it’ll be somewhere in his chambers. But the others need to head down to the city to make some arrangements, so I need eyes in the palace.”
At the unspoken command, Nyssa and Myna spring into action. AsI watch them navigate the space with purpose, a quiet loneliness begins to creep into my heart.
Though I am deeply entwined in this Flight and its mission, I can’t shake the feeling of being…apart. We work side by side, yet our focuses diverge, each of us pursuing a separate goal. Still, I can’t help but wonder—did the others investigate the hallway where I saw the prince and the hooded figure disappear? The memory lingers uneasily, shadows curling at the edges of my thoughts, refusing to fade.
My mind drifts to the strange markings we’ve encountered—etched on the door in Keres’s room and scattered throughout the palace in other cryptic corners. I’d carefully transcribed the first I encountered with Raven, yet—aside from the one I’m certain is for concealment—their meaning remains maddeningly obscure. Have they made any progress translating them since?
The weight of unanswered questions presses heavily against me, each mystery a gnawing presence just out of reach. The puzzle pieces lie before me, tantalizingly close, yet they refuse to fit together.
I want to make them fit.I want to help.
The thoughts strengthen my resolve as I rise to my feet, every movement measured and deliberate. My gaze settles on Raven. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he says immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument.
