He turned his head as much as his compromised position would allow, just enough to meet Wren’s eyes. The door had fallen shut during the scuffle, and Wren slumped back against it, one hand raised and ready. There was no way he could fire off a spell without risking hitting Everis, too. Panic bubbled up inside Everis’s chest. The darkness simmered beneath his skin, ready to be summoned. Wren pinned him with a stare, imploring him to remain calm.

  “My name is Wren Lumina. We’re looking for Faulk. He told me this is where I would find him.”

  The woman didn’t appear fazed. “What’s your business with Faulk?”

  “None of your fucking business,” Everis growled. The offending knee bore down painfully against his spine, almost enough to make him cry out.

  “He came to speak to me at Duke Ryland’s,” Wren said quickly. “He said if I needed to reach him, to give a silver to the old woman on that corner where I found you and say those words, and I’d be able to speak with him. It’s urgent. Please.”

  The crone scoffed, “I’ll show him old,” but the weight lifted from Everis so he could roll over and sit up. She scowled at the pair of them. Even standing straight, her back had a curve, and she was most certainly up there in age, but she now moved with a nimbleness and grace he’d never have expected from her. She sheathed her blade, though not before he saw it was another of the dark daggers Princess Cassia’s assassin had carried.

  “Have a seat,” she said gruffly. “I’ll fetch him.”

  She left through the door, shutting it behind her. Everis and Wren stood in the near darkness; no windows, no light save for a candle on a nearby table. The door latched behind her, and Everis’s shoulders tensed. Had she really locked them in like wild animals?

  For the first few minutes Everis remained still, occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Then he began to pace. Even now, the pull of magic had his heart racing and his senses sharp. Perhaps he’d been calling on it too often lately; it shouldn’t have been so readily available.

  Wren leaned against the wall beside the table, arms folded, and he looked perfectly calm. The faint firelight cast shadows across his face. “You’re making me nervous, Ever. Relax.”

  “I am relaxed,” he snapped.

  No sooner had he said those words than he wanted to swallow them whole. Stricken by his vicious tone, Wren looked away.

  Everis grimaced and pushed his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” The way Wren said it suggested it was not fine.

  “I’m wound a little tight, is all. With so much going on…”

  “Oh, yes. I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

  Everis turned to face him, brow furrowing. Before he could comment further—or make things worse—the door swung open again. In place of the elderly woman, a man dressed from head to toe in black and brown leathers stepped inside.

  He was shorter than Everis but broader shouldered, lean, and solid. He wore a cowl and a mask that obscured his nose and mouth, leaving it visible enough that one could see the glare he set upon them and the ragged scarring that climbed half his face.

  Wren smiled as though greeting an old friend. “Thank you for coming, Faulk.”

  Faulk crossed his arms, unimpressed. “The invitation was for you alone, magi. Cara would’ve been within her rights to kill you both.”

  “She could’ve tried,” Everis growled.

  Faulk met his eyes, unflinching. Rather than acknowledge that Everis had said anything at all, he merely turned his head away and ignored him.

  “We’ve received word from the Owls in Midmere that things have gone awry. I assume that’s why you’ve sent for me.”

  “I’m sorry. It was urgent that we speak with you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Wren hesitated, wringing his hands together. “We believe Queen Danica is responsible for hiring your assassin and for murdering the king. Princess Cassia isn’t really her daughter.”

  Faulk paused, still managing to scowl somehow even as he looked thoughtful. “Suppose that makes sense.”

  “It does?” Everis asked.

  “Doesn’t it? Only a member of the Starling bloodline can sit on the throne as long as one remains living. With Faramond dead, Cassia becomes queen. Danica, not being her real mother, could be tossed to the streets.”

  It was Everis’s turn to glare. “Princess Cassia would never do such a thing.”

  “How certain are you of that?” Faulk asked.

  “Positive,” Wren said, even though he glanced at Everis as though reluctant to agree with him at that exact moment. “There must be more to this. I’ve known the princess all her life. Besides, I don’t think anyone other than Faramond and Ryland knew about Cassia’s parentage, including Cassia herself. No one can spill a secret they know nothing about.”

  Faulk turned from them, leaning a shoulder into the door. “Is Danica aware that Ryland knows?”

  The question gave Wren pause. “I… I’m not sure.”

  “Common sense says no. Otherwise, she’d have had Ryland dealt with first, probably ages ago, so that he couldn’t spill her secret when all of this happened. Instead, she’s framing him for the king’s death and the princess’s assassination attempt, isn’t she?”

  Wren’s spine straightened, and his eyes widened in understanding. “If Ryland were to be tried and executed for treason and Cassia was dead, Danica could take the throne even though she isn’t a Starling.”

  Everis shook his head. “This all seems like a terribly convoluted plan when she could’ve simply enjoyed her time as the queen’s mother and adviser.”

  “Then,” Faulk said, “something pushed her to do it. Or someone. A fear of being found out, perhaps.”

  Wren took a step toward the assassin, buzzing with this new information. “She’s trying to hold the pieces together of whatever secret she’s carrying and secure her position!”

  Everis watched them. The pair seemed so much on the same page that he couldn’t help but feel left out. He swallowed the spike of jealousy. Foolish. Still, his voice came out more tense than he’d meant it to. “That doesn’t answer the question about what we’re supposed to do now, and if you’ll help us.”

  “We aren’t helping you, magi.” Faulk sighed. “But we will help the queen.”

  “Danica—?”

  “Did we not just clarify that Danica has no claim to the throne? Cassia is queen. Our allegiance is to her. The Owls of the Dusk Court in Midmere are attempting to locate her now, whether she’s in the city or has left it. They want to find her first, and they can keep her safe if they do.”

  Everis couldn’t help a faint flicker of hope. If Cassia could be protected, perhaps Master Orin could be, too.

  Faulk peered back at Wren. “There’s something else I received word of that you haven’t mentioned.”

  “What?”

  “Word of something strange from the royal magi. Saying the city’s Master is responsible for kidnapping Cassia, and the magi are reporting to someone new now.”

  Wren’s face flushed. “Orin would never.”

  “And do the other magi know him well enough to know that, too?”

  “Well, they—they should!”

  Faulk shrugged. “If they know him to be innocent, then they’re willingly betraying him. That’s something to keep in mind. Danica, and whatever soldiers she has at her disposal, is not your only enemy.”

  Wren looked at Ever, and their eyes met, heavy hearts reaching for one another. Everis bit his lower lip. “This is going to be an all-out war, isn’t it?”

  “It’s beginning to look that way,” Wren quietly agreed.

  Faulk cleared his throat. “Suppose you boys ought to ensure you’ve got the winning side, then.” A pause. “A vote has already been passed. We will send a few of our members with you to help expedite your passage through the mountains. By the time you arrive in Midmere, our Owls there ought to have more information.”

  “Ryland said he’d send troops,” Everis began.

  “He can, and he should, but do you know how long it will take an army to get through the pass? They’ll likely go by ship. It’s faster for a large group, easier to transport supplies and keep the soldiers rested.”

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” A smile crossed Wren’s face. He looked almost in awe of Faulk, of how sharp he was.

  Everis’s face warmed. He crossed his arms, slumping sullenly back against the wall.

  This time, even Faulk seemed to smile behind his mask. It made his eyes crinkle slightly. “That’s what we do, magi. Prepare to depart by tomorrow morning. Horses and a guide will be waiting for you. I hope I don’t have to caution you against speaking about the Court. A simple ‘we’ve hired a few blades’ will suffice.”

  “Understood.”

  Faulk beckoned for them to leave first. They departed the way they’d come, slipping into the foggy city streets. The woman named Cara had returned to the street corner, but when they passed her, her eyes moved right over them as though they didn’t exist. Wren said nothing as they walked. It was more than obvious that Everis snapping at him had struck a nerve. As loath as he was to bring up the situation again, he hated having Wren angry with him even more.

  “About earlier…”

  Wren cut him off in a clipped tone. “Focus on the matters at hand. Do we tell Captain Annaliese, or do we have her travel with Ryland’s men? Never mind. Strategy isn’t your strong point.”

  It was a purposeful barb, one that struck home and burrowed deep. Everis looked away. “We can’t all be Faulk or Master Orin, I guess.”

  Wren didn’t respond.

  With the tension lingering, they returned to the manor in silence.

  A servant greeted them when they entered through the main double doors, sending them to a waiting Ryland and Ivy. It went without saying that Everis wasn’t to mention anything about the Court, so he kept his mouth shut and let Wren do the talking.

  “We’ve hired a few sellswords to help expedite us through the mountain pass,” Wren explained. “It’s our hope that we can locate Master Orin and Princess Cassia before Danica’s soldiers do.”

  Ryland frowned. “But the troops…”

  Wren shook his head. “Whatever men you can spare should travel with Captain Annaliese by boat and approach from the north. It will give her ample time to go over strategies with your captains and figure out how best to handle this. A few magi and sellswords can reach the capital faster and slip in undetected.”

  Duke Ryland heaved a sigh. “As you wish. When do you depart?”

  “First thing in the morning,” Everis said. “We’ve wasted so much time already.”

  34

  IMARYLLIS

  Danica had kept a food tester at her side every meal since Orin’s escape. She didn’t seem bothered that her meal would grow cold while she waited, nor did she require that everyone else wait. Drake always waited, though. So did the magi working for him. They were the only ones who had something to worry about.

  These were people Imaryllis had once thought of as her brothers and sisters. They looked like strangers to her now. Foreboding filled the castle halls, void of Cassia’s cheerful voice or the king’s boisterous laughter, of Everis and Wren’s bickering and joking and sparring in the yard. Now it was just her and Pava and people she thought she knew. They attended suppers in the hall out of obligation, but neither spoke much, and Pava could scarcely make eye contact with any of her fellow magi.

  Imaryllis met any sideways looks with a cool and collected stare. Perhaps she ought to have pretended to go along with the state of things, to feign some interest in Drake Reed and his teachings. The idea made her sick to her stomach. Would Drake believe the act if she tried? No, he knew she could not be swayed. There was only one reason he hadn’t simply had her locked up or executed.

  Drake was playing with her.

  He knew damned well she would slip up, that she’d take any opportunity to attack him, and he was waiting for it.

  She wrapped her fingers tight around her fork, drawing in a steadying breath at the sound of Drake’s laughing at something someone said. All around them, people pretended nothing was amiss. As though this were any other dinner, as though the king’s funeral wasn’t a day away.

  A fact that Danica brought up toward the end of supper. She rose from her seat, lightly tapping a fork upon her wine glass so the room would silence and grant her full attention.

  “As you all know,” she announced, “my husband’s funeral is tomorrow. I will speak to the city after the service, as is customary. During that time, I shall announce a reward for the head of Orin Sorrell or any information that will assist with the safe return of my daughter.”

  Imaryllis’s stomach plummeted. Why was she telling them this now? Knowing well that some of the people present weren’t truly on the queen’s side, had only bent their knee and sworn their loyalty out of fear of Drake…

  It’s a trap.

  They had no doubt kept a close watch on the goings-on within the castle. They knew who their possible problems were. Imaryllis would be on that list. They were hoping someone would try to warn Orin and subsequently lead Danica right to them.

  But did Imaryllis have a choice? If they put a bounty out to the entire city of Midmere, the common folk would be out for blood. They would turn everything upside down. Not even for Danica, but for the safe return of their princess. Imaryllis studied the cooling plate of food she’d scarcely touched. Did she take the bait and try to reach out to Orin? Did she do nothing and hope he and Princess Cassia would escape unscathed?

  She pushed back her chair and stood, ignoring the curious look from Pava as she went. Drake stopped her as she headed for the door, grabbing her loosely by the wrist and drawing her to a halt.

  “Oh, dear. Were you not hungry, Lady Imaryllis?” he asked in that too sweet tone.

  Imaryllis stiffened, willing herself not to jerk away lest she draw attention or else be seen as disrespectful. Yet the words that fell from her mouth held such barely concealed contempt. “Tasted a bit off tonight,” she drawled. “I believe it’s soured my appetite.”

  Drake smiled widely, eyes positively sparkling with amusement. He released her. “Do get some rest, my lady.”

  Her stomach did turn then. She retreated to her chambers, barely able to refrain from breaking into a run. Every hallway she turned down, every doorway and window she passed, she was certain something—someone—lurked in the shadows, watching her. Nowhere felt safe. Not until she closed and locked her bedroom door behind her. Only then did her chest uncinch, and she regained her ability to breathe. How much longer could she keep wading in a nest of vipers, not knowing which ones were poisonous and when they would strike?

  Habit had her looking to the window, hopeful Nova might’ve returned with a word from Orin. She stepped to the sill and looked out, scanning the dimming sky and trees. No flash of white wings caught her eye. She swore inwardly. It was too much to hope that the raven would’ve returned, so she might relay a letter to Orin without having to put his location at risk. Still, she gave it a few hours. Long enough for the rest of the castle to go to sleep, for even the servants to have cleared the halls, leaving only the night guards making their patrols. Still no sign of Nova.

  “All right,” Imaryllis muttered. “Then let’s do this the hard way.”

  Night patrol or not, Imaryllis knew the ins and outs of the castle like the back of her hand. It took little effort to sneak past the guards, her steps light, a hand at the ready should she need to summon a weapon. Not that she planned to. Coming to blows with anyone now would ruin any chance she had of making it out of the castle alive. Not even she could fend off the entire castle guard and the traitor magi.

  She didn’t dare risk waking the stableboys by taking a horse. She left the castle on foot and, in case she was being trailed, took a roundabout way through the city, heading in the opposite direction of the inn Orin had taken refuge in.

  The streets stayed mostly empty around her, save for the occasional passersby in the dark. In the business districts, torches would be lit, and taverns, brothels, and gambling houses would still be bustling with patrons. There in the outer reaches of the city, however, it remained quiet and unnervingly still. And yet, Imaryllis couldn’t shake the feeling she was being followed. It took effort not to steal a look over her shoulder. No sense in tipping off whoever it was—if there was anyone at all beyond her own paranoia.

  She ducked into a vacant storefront with boarded windows and shut the door behind herself. It took a moment, but the sound of footsteps on the road outside met her ears as someone passed. The steps paused not far from the door, lingered a moment, then continued on and vanished down the street. Imaryllis breathed a sigh of relief. It felt too easy, but perhaps she was giving Drake and the soldiers too much credit.

  After another ten minutes of silence went by, she emerged from the shop, squinting both ways down the road. She appeared to be alone. Good. Imaryllis headed back the way she’d come, intending to cut through another few alleyways, then head to the Rivers to find Orin.

  No sooner had she passed the opening to an alley than a hand shot out from the darkness, grabbed her, and dragged her into the shadows.

  It took a split second for Imaryllis to light a glimmering blade of pure magic and pin her attacker to the wall—but the black-clad person had a dagger at her neck as well. She stared into a pair of dark eyes set within a mask-covered face. In fact, the entire ensemble of the person was eerily similar to the assassin who’d tried to claim Princess Cassia’s life.

  Imaryllis gritted her teeth. “Think you can slit my throat before I slit yours?”

  “I’d rather not find out,” the assassin admitted in a voice lighter than Imaryllis had expected. “I’m here to help you.”

  “You have an odd way of showing it,” she growled, not releasing her hold just yet.

  The assassin lowered her dagger, tucking it into her belt and holding her hands up. “Better?”