Page 143 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

House Doran was the noble family behind the uprising. They were… Wiped out. Another family was disinherited but allowed to prove their loyalty.

Aoife is Cash’s second cousin on his father’s side. She told me that, back in the garden between our rooms weeks ago. Surely, only a serious crime would make her ineligible to compete in the Assay—like a family history of treason. And as a traitor, she would be an easy target for the High Queen to blame for what I just did if Cash fails to claim the crown.

Guilt twists my stomach at the thought of her suffering more because of me.

“Cash will do it, right?” I turn to Talon. “He’ll take the crown beforeshedoes?”

Their brown eyes become a glower in a second, jerking to Aoife.

Her blue eyes darken on mine, clear and shrewd.

I bring my hand to hers, squeezing softly. “Go hide,” I whisper. “Keep yourself safe.”

Aoife’s gaze hardens. “I will,” she murmurs.

I grab Talon’s arm and run.

THIRTY-FIVE

Inescapable fear refuses to let me go through every twist and turn of the halls Talon pulls me down. Their grip clenches the bones of my hand, but I don’t pull back.

If the gardai find us, if they seal the castle itself and not just the gates…

Old Ones.

We’ll be trapped. Like rats in a cage, just waiting for them to hunt us down if Cash fails.

We have to get out of here—right fuckingnow.

Talon leads me to the end of a widening corridor where marble turns to worn stone and the smell of hay and earth and dust fills my nose. “This way.”

They throw their whole weight against the worn wooden door at the end of the hall, and the sound of thunder cracks as it swings open. Shadows spill in from outside, black clouds hanging heavy as the sweeping outlines of beasts streak across the night sky above.

Rain soaks me through, driving sideways through the door. That feeling of being stalked refuses to release me.

A figure in crimson and black lurches from the edge of my vision.

A strange voice barks. “Get back in—”

Talon cuts them down. Their sword moves so fast, I never even see it.

A deep gash slashes across the guard’s chest. Talon doesn’t bother to sheathe their sword.

“Move, Maeve!”

We run.

We skirt the edges of the castle and duck under the thatched roofs of the outbuildings.

No one’s left in the outside kitchens, but the smell of something rich and warm still hangs in the air. Vats of stew simmer on the hearths as if the cooks fled whatever celebratory meal they were working on for the end of the Test of Strength, for what everyone must’ve expected would be the rise of a new queen-in-waiting.

A whole boar that died for nothing lies cooked to perfection, abandoned.

“This way.” Talon kicks down a door at the back of the castle and jerks their head into the familiar darkness. It’s the same path we took down to the temple.

“No way.” They can’t be serious. “I’m not hiding in a basement.” Not while the fight rages outside. Not to mention, if the gardai ever found us there, there’d be no way out.

A sad flicker pulls at their tense gaze. “You think I’d try to trick you?”