I’ve only just made it past the first of the sleeping tents when an almighty explosion tears through the night like a clap of thunder. I duck, my hands flying up to protect my head. The sound came from the direction of the castle. My heart starts to race.
What was that?
Shouts erupt in the distance.
Then the bells start ringing at the castle. Deep peals that echo across the courtyard. Within seconds, the trumpets join in, their brassy notes cutting through the night.
My body breaks out in gooseflesh because I can guess what is going on.
I straighten slowly, turning toward the castle. Its dark towers loom against the night sky.
A group of fae guards thunder down the cobbled road up ahead, their armor clanking. They’re heading toward the castle at a dead run.
Sebastian has escaped.
I know it with absolute certainty. That’s why they’re calling the alarm. It is the only logical explanation.
He’s free, and I’m glad.
At least now I can stop thinking about him. I can stop worrying about a complete stranger. One to whom I don’t owe a thing.
I keep my eyes on the castle for a few moments longer, but then force myself to keep going in the direction of my tent.
It’s none of my business. I need rest.
There is more screaming from within the castle walls. I freeze, my hand halfway to the tent flap.
The shouting grows louder, more urgent. I turn back, seeing shadows flying through the night sky. They’re like great writhing ribbons of darkness that twist and coil like my silks, only bigger, far more impressive. It’s magic I know well.
Another explosion sounds, and the ground trembles beneath my feet.
There’s even more screaming.
Have they recaptured him? Hurt him?
I need to go inside my tent and forget all about this…forget all about him. But my feet won’t move. The haunted look in his eyes won’t leave me.
Then there is silence. The silence is worse than the screams.
They have him.
They’re marching him back to the castle. Back to the dungeon, where he will await his fate.
Queen Snow will kill him. The Shadowfae King is doomed.
Before I can stop myself, before I can think about how stupid this is, my feet are moving.
Not toward my tent.
Not away from danger.
But toward it.
I run down the cobbled road, slipping a few times because of my silk shoes, so I kick them off.
I have to help him.
I have to save the king.
