Skylar blows out a breath. “Okay, then.”
Skylar taps into her magic as they slip inside, making her steps lighter, heightening her hearing so that she can keep tabs on where the guards are. She and Astrid split up, Skylar heading left. She sticks thefirst tracker on the nearest carriage, deliberately not looking inside. She feels nauseous. There areBloodedin there, hidden from view by a black curtain pulled across the glass window, like the guards don’t want to see the faces of the people they are sending to their doom.
Cam was in one of these. Before he died.
Why? Why did they kill him? Because surely that’s what happened. Is there some kind of training regime, some kind of test they have to get through? Or did he fight back, refuse to serve the king? She doubts they’d hesitate to kill people for that.
She swallows the emotion that wants to well up inside as she moves on to the next carriage.
She can see the outlines of people inside, though there is limited movement. Why aren’t they moving more? Why aren’t they making any noise? She wonders if they’re drugged. Probably.
Cam. Cam was drugged.
Her hand slips on her third tracker, and it clatters to the stone floor.
“What was that?” a guard nearby demands. Shit.
“They can’t get out—don’t worry,” another says, voice breezy. “The doors are warded.”
Skylar bends to pick the tracker up. She can see a pair of shoes underneath the nearest carriage.
“I think I should check,” the first voice says. “Some of these are grade threes.”
“Suit yourself.”
Footsteps. Coming toward her. She slaps the tracker on the underside of the carriage, edging backward.
Shadows flicker through the warrens again, like a warning pulse.
“Did you see that?” hisses one of the guards.
“Yeah—Vitalas running low, maybe?”
Another tracker, another carriage. Just one more left.
She moves to the right—as a guard steps out in front of her.
“We’ve got a loose one!”
Shit, so much for her epic sneaking-around skills. She shoves the tracker behind her back, her gaze flicking around. She’s not too far from the exit—if she uses her magic, she’ll easily outrun him.
“Get the Discerner. Which carriage is she supposed to be in?”
Another pulse of shadow fills the warrens. Where the fuck is Astrid?
The guard is moving toward her. She’ll have to take him. But she doesn’t want the king knowing what they’re up to—and if she kills someone using her power, they’ll know she’s been here, won’t they?
There is a scuffling noise, somewhere nearby. Then, “We’ve got another one!”
Astrid. Fear floods her—an emotion she didn’t think she still had, because what was there to be scared of after losing Cam? For a second, she freezes.
Then there are gasps. The guard closest to her points outside the warrens, his face turning pale.
Skylar can’t help turning to look. An enormous shadow looms over the street outside. An enormous,movingshadow. A shadow with wings.
Skylar cranes her neck, but it’s no use. Darkness envelops her, so complete it blocks out every single sense—and from the panicked sounds around her, she’s not the only one. Her pulse spikes, a metal tang coats her tongue as she bites her lip to stop from screaming.
The darkness is tangible, like water, making her movements slow, clumsy. She knows she needs to move, to find Astrid, get out of here—but she doesn’t know which way to turn. Through the blackness, she thinks she can hear the sound of hitched breathing, something that might be a sob.
