She leaned in, her voice a quiet knife. “Because the Empire’s executing one of their own.”
That…thatgot his attention.
He straightened slightly. “Who?”
She watched him closely. “A Thorn.”
The glass slipped in his hand, the thud against the table louder than it should’ve been. “What? They’re killing the leader of the Institute?”
“You never paid attention to names during the rebellion, did you?” She rolled her eyes. “No, Rell.AbernathyThorn is the one you’re thinking of. He’s still alive. Still running that hellhouse.”
Rell’s blood went cold.
She went on, “They’re executing his brother.TehvanThorn. For treason. Helped a ward escape, they say.”
Elora.
Rell stood so fast the chair skidded back and slammed into the wall. “Shit.”
Miera blinked, startled by the sudden shift. “Rell—?”
He was already moving. Tossing a coin on the table without looking back.
He shoved his way out of the tavern and into the crowded street, now teeming with bodies all moving in the same direction—the arena at the city’s center. Rell didn’t bother with the streets. The press of bodies was too thick. He could already hear the distant clang of bells, the rising murmur of a crowd hungry for a spectacle.
He ducked into an alley, footsteps splashing through puddles slick with runoff and filth. A crooked scaffold leaned against the side of a warehouse, and he scaled it two rungs at a time, ignoring the creak of old wood. He hauled himself onto the slanted roof, crouching low as the city spread out before him.
Think, dammit.She’d head for the arena. The news was out; she wouldn’t ignore it. But the city was a labyrinth, and she could be coming from any direction. His eyes narrowed as he considered his options. The gates—he’d get there first and watch for her as the crowd streamed in.
He ran low and fast, leaping gaps between buildings with practiced ease, boots barely making a sound thanks to the balm still slick on their soles. His breath came hard and fast, heart thudding not from the exertion, but from the thought that somewhere in that crowd, or worse, in that pit,shemight already be caught.
Brave. Reckless. And too damn loyal.
Tehvan—the man who raised her in a gilded cage, who measured her every breath, who wrapped her in rules and called it protection. The man who taught her to fear herself, to fear wanting, needing,feeling.
The man who made her believe it was love.
Of course she would go. Of course she’d risk everything for him.
Even now, even after everything.
If he was being honest—reallyhonest—the execution was a good thing.
Forhim.
Rell jumped a gap between buildings, hit the next roof in a crouch, then kept moving. His lungs burned, but he didn’t slow.
Tehvan’s death meant Elora would be free.Untethered. No more “for your own good” restraints.
He could convince her—maybe—not to vanish into some far-off land where he'd never see her again. Maybe she'd consider the Hive. Maybe she'd choose something with him in it.
The idea twisted something low in his chest, almost hopeful.
But that hope was laced with guilt.
Because heknewwhat it would cost her.
Tehvan might’ve been a manipulative bastard, but to Elora? She loved him, even if it was the kind of love built on cracked bones and careful lies.
