The more that I think about it, the more certain I become that the king has secrets. And I know just how to figure them out.
Venna is nowhereto be found. She’s not with Izabel in the Strategos anteroom, or in the Rawbond common lounge. She’s not in the Kryptos anteroom—and when I poke my head in there, one of the Kryptos recruits snippily says, “You have to stop coming in here!”
Venna’s a ghost. Kryptos Rawbonds are trained to move unseen—and they take to those lessons quickly.
Tracking her through the castle proves challenging, but eventually, I find her in one of the lesser-used greenhouse courtyards. The shadowy space is smaller than most of the others, and a little less cultivated. The ancient stone walls are covered in ivy. The wild tendrils drip from the arbors and trail the edges of the cobbled path.
Venna is perched on a weathered stone bench near the central fountain, talking animatedly with another Kryptos Rawbond. They’re signing with their hands occasionally. Venna quickly realized how useful it was as a Kryptos to know a language that can be spoken with your hands rather than your voice, and has been teaching all the other Kryptos Rawbonds some sign language.
Venna says something about training as I approach. Then the other Kryptos spots me coming, signs, “Bye,” and hurries off.
That’s been happening a lot lately. I’m still not popular among the Rawbonds. Not sure if it’s because word spread that I shut my direwolf out the night of the ball, or because I’msleeping with the crown prince, or just because I’m an Alpha now. Maybe all three.
Venna turns to look at me and I can tell she’s cataloging the details of my appearance—the fresh bruises from training, the nervousness in my posture, the slight swelling of my recently split lip.
“I need your help,” I tell her. Then I move closer, looking around to make sure no one else is around, listening. I don’t know enough sign language yet to do this with my hands, although I really wish I weren’t about to say this aloud. “I think the king is hiding things from Killian. Important things. About the castle, maybe.”
Her brows go up in question, then down again as her expression turns calculating. “Be careful. That’s a dangerous line of thinking.”
“I know,” I say, “but I just get the sense that something is wrong here. I need someone who can watch without being seen. Someone who notices everything.”
Venna smiles, a bit of pride shining through that I’ve acknowledged her skills.
“I think you’re right,” she says, voice pitched low. “I’ve noticed patterns in the castle shadows. Servants moving at strange hours. Doors that should be open that are locked. Sounds that don’t match with any of the castle’s normal operations.”
I’m relieved to have her confirmation that something is amiss, but the implications send a chill down my spine.
Just as I’m about to ask for more details, there’s a scuff of footsteps behind me.
“Alpha Cooper?”
I turn to see one of the castle messengers approaching. He holds out a sealed letter. “Urgent message from the front.”
Heart speeding, I open the carefully sealed missive, recognizing the handwriting inside as Egith’s.
The message is short. As I read, the paper begins to tremble in my hands.
The final line looms large in my vision.
“We may have located the missing children.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Back in my room, all thoughts of the mysteries under the arena are forgotten. My mind races as I stuff clothing and supplies into my pack, Egith’s message burning in my pocket.
There have been possible sightings of children near the Grunfall outpost at the front. Egith gave no further details, but the implications…
Could Saela be among them?
Through our bond, Anassa tries to project calm, but my thoughts spiral with mounting intensity.
I might never get another opportunity like this. And I can’t trust anyone else to follow through on Saela’s rescue. I know there are great, seasoned soldiers and Bonded at the front—better than me, no doubt. But I don’t trust anyone but myself with my sister’s safety.
I have to get there—fast.
“Going somewhere?”
Stark’s voice drawling from the doorway behind me isn’t enough to break me out of my near-frantic preparations. I don’t even turn to look at him.
