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“No,” she whispers. “No, that’s not possible. You were supposed to be…” She starts pacing again, breathing too fast now. “A hiding place. A frightened little nobody carrying music too dangerous for anyone important to touch.” Her gaze flies back toward me. “You were never supposed to take it back to Caervast.”

I keep playing, because the guard won’t let me stop and because somewhere beneath the pain, I can still hear Ciaran’s voice in my head, low and rough against my throat.

Stay, Mouse.

The memory hurts worse than the blows, and for one stupid second I almost turn my head, expecting to find him standing behind me.

“Again,” the woman snaps.

For one horrible second, the voice stops sounding like hers. All I hear is Ciaran behind me saying my name low against my throat while warm hands guide mine across the strings.

The bow slips from my hand.

I don’t even try to catch it. Instead, it clatters against the floor while blood drips from my fingers onto the strings.

I don’t know how long I’ve been playing, but my fingers are swollen and bloodied. They hardly move at my brain’s command anymore.

“I can’t.”

The woman stares at me, and for the first time since I woke up, she looks more terrified than furious.

Then her hand closes around my throat, and she squeezes. “You useless little thing.”

I barely hear the rest. The room dims and swims out of focus as I struggle to drag in air. I almost welcome the darkness, silently begging it to take me away from this nightmare.

Somewhere far away, the woman is still shouting. Her hand isn’t even on my neck anymore, and I think I fell out of the chair. Is that hard stone pressed against my cheek?

Somewhere even farther away, I can almost feel Ciaran’s hand at the back of my neck, warm and steady like he’s still holding me together somehow even now.

Please.

Please come for me.

The thought barely feels real by the time darkness finally drags me under.

31

CIARAN

Dad said he wouldn’t send half the fucking Virel guard force into Düren just because I’d lost my mind over one academy student. He made it very clear that starting a war underground in Ward territory while half the old families were already circling each other would be catastrophic for everyone involved.

I told him I didn’t care. If Rowan was down there hurt because I let him run out of that pavilion alone, then I’d burn half of Düren to the ground dragging him back out.

Dad looked at me for a long moment after that before rubbing a hand across his mouth.

“Fucking hell,” Lucan muttered somewhere behind me.

Nobody laughed. Nobody even looked surprised.

“That,” Dad said, “is exactly why you’re not leading this rescue alone.”

So here we are. Dad, Lucan, Rafe, Marius, and six armed enforcers move through the lower levels beneath the safe house Cassian’s people located less than an hour ago. Aster and Cassian Marrow walk beside us as though this entire nightmare isn’t balancing on a fault line that has been running beneath the old houses for years.

Never in my life did I think Rowan’s survival would depend on a Virel and a Marrow standing on the same side.

The deeper we descend, the worse the air becomes, thick with damp stone, rust, cold metal, and dust heavy enough that I can taste it at the back of my throat with every breath.

Rafe grimaces beside me as pipes rattle somewhere overhead. “How the fuck do people live like this?”