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Aarin nodded. “And there’s one other issue.” He tipped his head behind him. Gwyneth sat on one of the pillows, hands in her lap, and Estelle hovered over her, draped in a long brown cloak. Lily unconsciously started toward them.
“Don’t force it. If she wants to stay, that’s her choice.”
Lily listened to his warning but approached nonetheless. Gwyneth eyed her, and Estelle spun around. She exhaled, tears filling her eyes. She thrust a cloak hanging from her fist in her friend’s direction.
“She won’t listen! Not to me, not to Rin—”
“It’s alright,” Lily said quietly. “Gwyneth—”
“You will get caught, and when you do, Estelle will wish she had gone to Failen to die,” she said, voice cracking.
“We don’t want to leave you behind.”
“You’re going to get her killed!”
Lily pushed the ache in her chest to the wayside. “When we leave, Caiven’s business will be exposed. The Swarm will come, and when they do, they will kill you, and they won’t bother doing it in Ironfall. I know that, and I don’t want to see it happen.” Jarek’s charming request had worn off, and so did her promise to keep her race hidden. She slipped the helmet off. “I’ve seen it happen before.”
Gwyneth’s eyes were still as sharp as pointed ghostsoil, though her pinched expression loosened.
“You know exactly as well as I do what will happen. The same way I was supposed to die… The way my—” Lily turned her mind away from her family. “Someone risked everything they had for me, and I want to do the same for you. I’m begging you to let me.”
“Gwyn.” Estelle knelt down in front of her. “I can’t take this anymore! We can go home. We’ll never get a chance like this again. I know you want to see your aunt, and I know she misses you. Please, don’t make me leave you here alone. Don’t make me tell her what happened.”
Tears fell from Gwyneth’s eyes. “What about the others?”
“I can’t promise their futures, but you two are the only Ashin women here. Reatia isn’t looking to harvest their souls. They’ll be of no interest to the Swarm,” Lily said.
Gwyneth looked past Lily and Estelle. “And you plan to get out through the kitchen?”
“It’s our best chance,” Aarin said.
“There’s still guards,” Estelle murmured. “What about the lift? Caspen has a private lift in his room that goes straight to the armory.”
“We know of it,” Lily said, “but we don’t know where it is or if we can power it. Do you?”
Estelle shook her head and spat a curse from her painted lips, then glanced to the wall. “What about the windows? Can we scale them?”
“The closest and least traveled route will be through the kitchen. It won’t be an issue. A few guards aren’t—”
“I know where the lift is,” Gwyneth interjected. She turned to Estelle when she didn’t get the reaction she was looking for. “It’s behind the hearth. The wall”—she twirled a hand—“flips around.”
Estelle’s face lit up as she glanced between Lily and Aarin, who were both uneasy.
Lily spoke first. “I don’t know how safe the tunnels are.”
“It’s only one, and it’s safe,” Gwyneth said, climbing to her feet. “He took me down there once to show me an old pistol he got from someone somewhere in Reave… the armory is under the northern grounds, and this passage only leads there. It’s empty.”
Lily looked to Aarin again, knowing he was thinking the same thing she was—it was too risky. They shouldn’t stray more than they had. And yet, they both agreed to stop by Caiven’s chambers on their way to the kitchen to consider the possibility.
Caiven’s room was grand—one of the largest rooms Lily had ever seen intended for a single person. The ceilings climbed high, decorated with lit chandeliers and rose gold accents along the walls. A large bed sat next to a stained-glass window overlooking the barren gardens, and on the opposite wall was the cold hearth.
Both now donning cloaks, Estelle and Gwyneth entered, wary and nervous, quickly making their way to the fireplace. Lily and Aarin rifled through the room, keeping an eye on the girls and each other. Aarin peeked in a room Lily assumed to be a bathroom, and she examined the area near the bed.
Lily quickly rummaged through Caiven’s belongings on the rare chance she’d find a vanishing graft. A small potted plant hanging from the wall caught her eye. Lily peeled off her gloves and touched the lush curl of ivy with a fingertip until each vine shriveled to a thin brown crisp, and the aura of its death soaked into her skin.
Behind her, something rustled on the bed. Lily turned around casually to see Aarin watching her, pulling open his pack. She waggled her darkened fingers as if she were showing off a set of expensive rings.
He tipped his head toward the girls. “Don’t trust them?” he asked, pulling out a small knife sheathed in black leather as well as a graft—the one imbued with a faint red soul and etched with a protection rune.
