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I nod, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. “Perhaps that should have been the first warning sign. But Lucaz refused. He told them he wouldn’t go unless they took me too.”

“And they didn’t?”

“Not at first,” I say. “They kept coming back, though. They tried bribing him with food, new clothes, money. Every time, he said no.”

I pause, the memory of those days flickering through my mind like shadows on the water. “Finally, they relented, and they put me to work in the kitchens. I scrubbed pots, peeled vegetables, fetched water. I did whatever they told me to do until I was old enough to start my training. I didn’t particularly care either way; they could have left me in the kitchens, and I would have just been happy to be near him.”

Maxim smiles. “He sounds like a good brother.”

“He is…” The canal narrows and we approach the first footbridge. “This is it.”

Maxim slows the ferry, guiding us closer to the underside of the bridge until the stone arch blocks out the light of the stars. He dips the oars into the water one last time, bringing the ferry to a gentle stop.

“This is so much easier with two people.” I stand carefully, the ferry rocking beneath my feet, and my stomach rolls as I grab the length of rope at my feet and tie it to the anchor point beneath the bridge.

My fingers trail along the cool, damp stone as I search for the false piece. It takes a moment, but then the loose stone falls into my hands with a little coaxing.

Inside, there’s a single folded piece of parchment.

My heart quickens as I reach for it, passing it over to Maxim, then I slip a note of my own inside.

Despite agreeing we should limit meeting in person, the final champion trial and the Games are approaching fast—we need to start making a plan. I also want Myna to check the Book of Names for any mention of Lord Cirillo. Perhaps the handwriting on the list was just a close match, but I can’t shake the suspicion that there’s something more at play here, even if Kallias does insist he’s dead.

I press the stone back into place, then release the rope anchoring us and settle back down on the bench.

Maxim has unfolded the parchment, his brow furrowing as he studies it. It’s a detailed map of the Sorrows, and a thrill shoots through me when I spy the building marked on the isle of Inkora, its outline circled in dark ink.

“They found it,” he says.

I meet Maxim’s gaze, arching a brow as a small, determined smile tugs at my lips. “Feel like taking a detour?”

We ditch the ferry at Eilnos, a small isle to the right of Inkora, and continue on foot, our hoods drawn low and feet silent on the cobbled path as we follow the map to a dilapidated building.

The windows are blackened with grime, the shutters on the ground level nailed haphazardly, but the light leaking through some cracks belies its supposed disuse. I slow, scanning the area before tugging Maxim into the alley behind the adjacent building.

“How are you at climbing?” I whisper, casting a glance his way.

“I suppose we’re about to find out,” he says wryly.

“Just follow my path and keep an eye on where I position my hands and feet.”

He pushes back the curls on his forehead, then jerks his chin in acknowledgment.

I start to climb, glancing down occasionally to where Maxim cautiously follows.

The climb isn’t difficult, and the building is only two stories high. My fingers know exactly where to reach, finding loose holds and threading onto railings and ledges. Lucaz taught me well. He used to swear rooftops belonged to us more than the streets did.

“People rarely look up,” he’d said once, his hands balancing me over rooftop ledges that could’ve killed us both. “When they’re too busy surviving, they forget the sky exists.”

The memory makes my chest clench—a warmth both bitter and aching—as I swing myself onto the flat roof.

Maxim drags himself over the edge a few moments later. He dusts his hands and shoots me a glance. “Did the Aviary teach you that as well?”

“No,” I say as I settle at the edge of the roof overlooking the building below. “Lucaz taught me long before I ended up there.”

Maxim crouches to join me at my perch. “The streets teach harsher lessons than the Aviary, I’d wager.”

“Not all of them. But they certainly teach faster.”