Pip settled slightly, her wings calming as she stared back out the window, this time, searching the sky rather than the Bloodwood.
Lucy was studying the map with intense focus. “It’s early. None of us have slept in... Furies, I don’t even know how long. We’re exhausted, we’re in shock, and we’re about to make decisions that will determine whether we live or die. What if after Silas arrives, we send him back to the others with a message? He can hide well and easily get in and out of Grimora. We give everyone else twenty-four hours to find a way out. And then we go, team or no team.”
It was the most reasonable plan we had.
“Oh! And you heard what those hunters said, didn’t you? The Magistrate is missing. I don’t know if that puts Wickett in chargenow, but if it does, they’ll likely be able to walk out of the front gates with smiles on their faces.”
“You’re right,” Pip said, nodding, though she barely took her eyes from the sky. “We’ll see everyone tomorrow.”
Lucy asked after a moment, “Wickett disappeared all night last night. Do we think he...”
She didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
“He didn’t kill his father,” I said quietly. “If he had, he’d be lead hunter now. And the lead hunter has the twin blades crossed beneath a crescent moon on his forearm.” I thought about Wickett shirtless in that medical room, his skin covered in scars and silver runes but nothing that looked like an official mark. “Wickett doesn’t have it.”
“How do you know?” Lucy’s eyes were sharp, knowing.
Heat crept up my neck. “I saw plenty of Wickett last night. There was no mark.”
Lucy’s eyebrow rose. Pip made a small sound that might have been a giggle.
“It’s not—we weren’t—he was injured! His father stabbed him. I was helping him sew the wound. That’s all.”
“Sure,” Lucy said, her tone suggesting she believed absolutely none of it.
“It was medical!”
“Whatever you say.”
I glared at her.
She smirked back.
Chapter 36
Wickett
If a scorched volunteers for dangerous work, let them. They’ve been rationing their magic since birth—they know better than anyone what they can survive.
The knock woke me from the first real sleep I’d had in days.
I jerked upright, hand going automatically to my blade on the nightstand, the movement pulling at the stitches in my side. Pain flared sharp and immediate, dragging me toward full consciousness.
The hall was loud. Buzzing with more traffic than I’d ever heard in Chancellery House.
The knock came again. Insistent. Someone had died.
I opened the door to find Calder standing there, his face grim. Hunters, dozens of them, hustled up and down the hall while a swarm of sprites zipped back and forth. I couldn’t see what was happening beyond Calder’s massive fucking frame blocking most of the doorway.
“What happened?”
He swept his hand through the air, indicating the chaos. “None of these fuckers will tell me anything, but I have a feeling I know what it’s about.” He looked over his shoulder and then back at me.
I stepped to the side, letting him into my room with a wince as the wound in my side resisted the movement. But rather than ask questions, Calder got right to the point. He held out a folded piece of parchment. “Delivered by Silas five minutes ago.”
My eyes flashed to the little beast at Calder’s feet before I took the message, unfolding the note.
DeC discovered. Safe. EM Cottage. Twenty-four bells.
