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If I fell, I died. If the Riders below caught me, I’d wish I had.

A flash of cobalt blue flew past the tower to my left—Air Phoenix—but I ignored it and stretched out my arms for better balance. Zephyr of the Wilds, who was rumoured to be thoroughly unhinged, flew with one of those phoenixes.

The tower housing the workshops met the roof’s ridge. I was now following Ember’s path, where the rope we had placed days ago was wrapped around one turret.

As I reached the tower, another shrill call echoed through the night sky. I scooted down the opposite side of the pitched roof until I met the drainpipe at the back of the library and the alleyway I had entered through.

My hands burned against the rope, and my calf chafed as I let myself down, but none of the pain mattered. First Ember and Thorn. Then the rebellion. Then I’d worry about myself.

Voices rumbled out onto the street, and I pushed myself back into the shadows, my heart hammering, my palms bleeding and hot from the rope burn, and my legs shaking. I drew air into my lungs and willed the adrenaline in my blood to calm.

Breathe! Control what you can…

I focused on the long, dark alley and sprinted towards the safe house we had all agreed to meet in before heading to the fair.

8

Slipping through the dark streets of Craven City was more natural to me than walking out in the open sunlight, but being in such proximity to the Riders of Lex’s old flock had shaken me. Those were the five men who stood by while Lex went to protect the Canyon when the Barren and Northlands Kingdoms invaded Annatalia. Prince Draga of the Barren had flown next to Torran, the Northlands Prince, and together they gave the hand signal to shoot down and kill Lex’s Fire Phoenix.

Over the last few years, I’d offered to take them out one by one, but my messages to the rebellion were ignored. And I had never been close enough to seek revenge on my own. Until tonight. The one night when I wasn’t prepared enough to poison them all.

One small alley after another took me further away from the mountain-face the city was built into. It was a longer route, but it was safer than the main circular streets with the stone stairs down to the next one, which were wide enough to be seen by the beasts flying above me.

The seamstress’s shop and her living quarters above it were in the shopping quarter by the outer wall. The streets were still quiet, but the atmosphere had changed. Every few paces, a different phoenix’s shrill cry echoed around me, and distant boots beat on the hardened ground as guards rushed to the Grand Library and the Riders told more and more people of my crimes.

Under the arch that led into the lower quad, I pulled out my amulet, bent low in the bottom left corner, and scratched a V on the lowest brink. It was my sign to tell the rebels that we were in trouble. I had killed a Grand Master, the Elite Tracker Flock were in the library and probably already following my scent that no glamour could hide… and then there was the Nomad who thought I was a rebel, and now I had poisoned him. I had no doubt he would hunt me too.

My legs and hands stung from the descent, my lungs strained from running, and my book bag bashed against my back, but the elation of having made it out with a book I could trade kept me going. There were no torches in the outer quadrants, and it was one of the few times I was glad of the Barren King’s greed. Above me, there was a flash of white that caught my attention, and I paused in the shadows to catch my breath and check that the phoenix wasn’t one with a Rider gliding below it. I strained to catch a glimpse as it circled again, hunting. An Ash Phoenix was so very rare.

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t claimed by a rider in the mountains and therefore wouldn’t bend to the will of the flock or the Riders who were searching for me. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t in danger if it saw me. It could have gone YuleMad.

The winter solstice procession was less than half an hour away, so I filled my lungs and sprinted through the last few streets.

***

The Haberdashery was at the end of a stretch of small dressmakers’ shops on 18th Street in the lower quad, and it was the only one with its door kicked in. I froze in the shadow of the saddle-maker’s shop, which sat six buildings down and on the other side of the road, and scanned the area. There was no one in sight. Above me, the Ash Phoenix still circled high above the city, but Zeph’s bright blue Air Phoenix was gone, and there were no others in sight.

Kit had said that Zeph was looking for someone? I hoped he hadn’t been looking for us.

I rolled my shoulders. There was no point in standing around fearing the worst. Fear was what the King instilled in his people. That Craven City was safe, and the rest of the world was dangerous. The first lesson that the rebellion taught us was that fear kept people in their place. And that the speeches in the square denouncing the Annatalians were all lies.

I placed my hands to my lips and made a tweeting whistle—one of a wren—even though there were no wrens this time of year.

I waited.

And waited.

While the dread built in my throat and I swallowed it down.

I made the sound again and fought back the stinging in my eyes. I couldn’t lose Ember and Thorn. Not when I was so close to getting us all out.

A faint clicking came from the shop, and I took a deep breath.

They were hiding, but it was clear to approach.

Within seconds, I was inside the destroyed shop. With my back pressed against the wall, I surveyed the utter devastation. The towering cupboards with a hundred small drawers filled with ribbons and buttons were strewn across the floor. Everything that wasn’t nailed down had been upturned, and swathes of fabric covered the floor like the first fallen snow, which blanketed the mountains.

Whoever had done this hadn’t found the hidden room. I placed my forehead against the window and then slipped behind the counter. Where the desk met the wall, it appeared to be wooden panelling, but it was a door. I tapped twice and gave a low, soft whistle. The tap came back. They would be checking the peepholes throughout the shop, making sure I was alone. The half-height door clicked open, and I crawled through the small hole, my hands blazing with pain as they pressed against the wooden floor.