“Nothing in particular,” Hunter answers carefully. “Just… fishing.”
The King hums, unconvinced.
Hunter hesitates, jaw clenched, then says, “Maybe it would help if we had something for when she gets like that. When she’s spiraling.”
I understand what he’s suggesting before he says it outright.
The King’s head snaps up. “Like what?”
“Maybe medication?” The word barely leaves Hunter’s mouth before it’s obvious it was the wrong thing to say.
“She doesn’t need medication,” the King says flatly. “She needs to accept what she is and what comes with it.”
“She’s been through a lot in the past few months,” Hunter says, pushing just a little. “Seeing Kelsey’s body–”
The King cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Do you know how many dead bodies I’ve seen in my lifetime as a Baron?” His voicehardens. “Too many to fucking count. Men, women, children. Shot, tortured, decapitated, burned alive. None are pleasant, but it’s my job, and this is part of her role. And it’syourjob to keep her steady.” His eyes flick between us. Cold. Assessing. “Are you implying you’re not up to it?”
“No, sir,” Hunter says immediately.
I nod once. “We are.”
“Good.”
He exhales, then shifts gears like the conversation never happened. The roll of papers moves from under his arm to Hunter’s hands. “These are blueprints,” he says. “Of the city’s infrastructure. I’ve spent the last month comparing them to my own records.” He steps closer, unfurling the pages across the desk. Lines and layers sprawl out like a maze beneath the city.
“I’ve never been able to connect the tunnels running from Barons’ territory into the university,” he continues. “They exist. But they were sealed over forty years ago.”
“Who sealed them?” I ask.
“The Hexleys.”
His finger taps a precise point on the map. “The only access point is beneath Strong Manor. They walled it up completely.”
My stomach tightens.
“I need you to go in from our side and open a new entry point. Hexley signed the rights over as part of the wedding arrangement.”
Of course that perverted bastard did.
“Someone moved a body onto campus,” the King continues. “Someone took Arianettefromcampus. This is the only way it makes sense.”
Hunter looks up. “When do you want us to do it?”
“You’ll start preparing now,” the King says. “Build a small team. Shadows you trust.” He pauses, eyes flicking once more to her sleeping form. “I want that access point open by the holidays. When the campus is empty.”
The King turns and leaves as quietly as he entered, and my eyes drift back to her sleeping face.
Someone is using those tunnels. Carrying the dead where they don’t belong, dragging secrets under the city like rot beneath skin.
That’s our territory. Our responsibility.
The Barons usher the dead. We don’t smuggle them.
And whoever decided to use our tunnels like a fucking highway didn’t just cross a line–they walked straight into it.
I reach down and brush my knuckles lightly over Arianette’s hair.
No one touches what’s ours.
