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“It’s not up for discussion,” Myna says, her tone as colorless as the garment before me. “If you hadn’t noticed, you’re a fugitive now, and your options are rather limited.”

With a groan, I collapse into the small armchair across from her.

Myna continues to stare out the window. Her silhouette is striking against the pale light spilling through the glass. Her black curls are restrained beneath a hooded wrap of dark linen, and her tunic and pants, cut from the same obsidian fabric, contour her lean frame.

This is the first time I’ve seen her since she burst into my room at the Aviary and announced I needed to leave. She spirited me away to this villa, told me not to leave, and then disappeared once more. All I managed to coax out of her on the way was that she’d dislocated her shoulder to stay in the Sorrows, and she had promised Lucaz to help me get out safely. If it weren’t for everything she had done to rescue Aella in Eretria, that alone might have been enough for me to trust her.

But I’ve spent almost a week tracing a furrow across the villa’s floors, and I’m done with the silence.

“Why am I here, Myna?”

“Not yet,” she murmurs, her attention still fixed outside.

I bite back the questions demanding to be asked. If there’s one thing I learned about Myna, it’s that she never moves without purpose. She waits, she watches, and when she acts, it’s with the accuracy of someone who’s already played out every possible outcome in her mind. There’s always a strategy in play, a plan unfolding beneath the surface that no one else can see.

I want to be able to do that—to hold my ground, to let the chaos swirl around me without letting it seep in. But the frantic energy pulsing through my body makes it seem impossible right now.

And I suspect Myna’s patience is rooted in control rather than survival.

A sharp knocking at the door snaps me from my thoughts. Three slow, firm knocks, followed by two lighter taps—an unmistakable signal that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Let them in,” Myna directs me.

I hesitate, but there’s an urgency to her voice that compels me. I push to my feet, pull a dagger free from the sheath at my waist, and open the door a crack.

Two hooded figures stand on the other side.

The one closest to me glances up, his features just visible beneath his hood. Black hair curls out from the fabric, framing a strong jaw and guarded brown eyes set above a nose that appears to have been broken a time or two.

He looks…familiar.

My gaze darts to the man behind him, but his head is bowed, casting his face in shadow.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” I ask, pulling the door open wider and summoning a casual smile.

“Let them in, Nyssa,” Myna repeats from behind me. “We’re trying not to raise any suspicion.”

The second man’s head snaps up. Kohl-lined eyes lock on to mine, and his lips twist with distaste. I take a step back, the smile sliding from my face as the prince of the fucking Sorrows steps into the villa.

The first man trails closely behind, his hand hovering beneath his cloak over what I suspect to be a weapon. He glances down the deserted street before shutting the door with a decisive thud. After an assessing look at both Myna and me, the man claims a position by the window and continues to watch the street.

I turn my attention to the prince, only to find his focus already on me.

There is no warmth in his expression. Gone is the concerned, comforting brother I saw when I was with Aella—the one who spoke softly, who looked at her like she was all that rooted him to this fractured world. In his place is something colder.

His olive-brown skin is drawn taut across high cheekbones, his mahogany curls mussed as though he’s repeatedly run his fingers through them. That lazy air of superiority is still there, but it’s strained, barely holding under the tension of his rigid stance.

“Can someone please enlighten me about the reason for this clandestine meeting?” I ask, casting a pointed look at Myna.

She leans back against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest. “Now that we’re all here. Due to…unforeseen circumstances, Nyssa is no longer safe at—”

“I don’t care about her,” Prince Kallias says. “You said you had information about my sister. Where is she?”

I should be insulted, but I’m also hoping Myna has some update on that question.

Her lips purse, almond eyes fixing on the prince. “Aella is no longer in the Sorrows.”

The prince stiffens. “What do you mean? Has she left for another gods-forsaken mission?”