flames.

Once I’d cleaned the floors to Nelia’s satisfaction, Auria came and found me. She was friendly with one of the cooks, and we sat in front of the fire, shoes off, aching feet close to the warmth of the

I’d met some of the maids as they came and went, finishing their work and readying themselves for dinner. Most of them had been kind, although they seemed to keep to themselves. A woman named Yirus had winced when she’d learned which bed I had, then offered to show me the quickest routes around the castle.

Auria would have made an excellent spy herself. Over a bowl of thick stew and fresh bread, she chatted relentlessly about the castle, the king, the queen, the queen’s ladies, the king’s guards—she found one of them exceptionally good-looking—and I attempted to memorize all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I’ve done it again. My mother always said I talked like it was a competition.”

“It’s fine. Truly. I can be a little…shy.”

She smiled, and I reached for my wine. “Uh, earlier you said not all of the queen’s ladies were nobility?”

Auria nodded, using her bread to mop up the last of her stew. “Yes, while most of them are, the queen has always been a little…eccentric. I think sometimes she grows bored with court life. Caraceli was once the girl in charge of lighting her fire each night and keeping it burning. They became close, and when she was old enough, the queen offered her the position. And Katina was born in one of the northern villages. Close to the mountains.” Auria gave a mock shiver. “The queen was traveling, and Katina was at the market, selling her father’s wares. They began talking, and before anyone realized what had happened, Katina had been plucked from her village and was living here.”

“So, each of them either showed loyalty to the queen or amused her in some way.” There was potential there. I tucked that information away to think about later.

“I guess you could say that.” Auria shrugged. “One of my friends says it’s the queen’s way of undermining the king.” She flushed. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

My head felt stuffed with all the information I needed to consider, and I finished the rest of my stew in silence while Auria told me a story about one of the kitchen maids.

“You must be exhausted,” she said finally, when I was stifling a yawn. “Let me show you to the bathing rooms. You’ll need to clean up before the ceremony.”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “What ceremony?”

“Oh, I forgot, villagers don’t pay homage to the gods as often as we do.” Auria smiled and took my arm. “I suppose that’s why most people living in the city are given back more magic than the villagers.”

I stiffened. “Most of the villagers I know were too busy to worship every day. They were trying to eke out a living to take care of their families.”

“I would argue that if they had worshipped more, perhaps they wouldn’t have needed to work so hard. Perhaps the gods would have rewarded them. Oh, listen to me,” Auria said. “Going on when you need to bathe. It’s just… the gods were here for me when my mother died. Without their blessings, I don’t know how I would have gotten through that time.”

I tamped down my instinct to defend my neighbors. Instead, I offered her a smile. “I understand.”

And I did understand. Many people used faith to cope with the worst parts of their lives. As something greater than themselves to turn to when they had lost their way. But some people used it to justify why others had less than they did–and why they were deserving of more. As much as I burned to tell Auria exactly why people in the city—especially the courtiers

—were so much more powerful than us villagers, I bit my tongue until it almost bled.

One day, Auria would learn just how many lies she had believed.

She smiled at me somewhat awkwardly as we approached the bathing rooms. Thankfully, she was ready to launch into an explanation about how the servants’ bathing rooms were divided based on rank. Usually, one had to put their name down to use a bathing room, hoping it became available before you had to return to your duties. If you missed your turn, you went to the back of the line.

Thankfully, Auria was friends with the servant in charge of the bathing rooms. As she seemed to be friends with everyone.

“I can give you ten minutes,” the woman said, handing me the key.

“Oh, here’s a fresh dress.” Auria opened a closet and handed me a maroon dress identical to the one I had on. “I’ll get this one back to you once it’s cleaned.”

“Thank you.”

The bath was better than the rivers and streams I’d been bathing in while traveling with the mercenaries. But my mind returned me to the bath I’d taken that night at the inn, right after I’d heard Lorian laugh properly for the first time.

He’d seemed bemused by himself, as if unused to laughing.

We don’t think about him, Prisca.

I lounged in the bath, stopping and starting time to stretch out the bath while also getting some practice in. It gave me time to go over everything I’d heard so far.

I’d seen a variety of people in the castle. Some of them had already reached their Gifting, the blue on their temples marking them as safe. But plenty of younger servants were here as well. According to Auria, several of the queen’s ladies hadn’t yet reached twenty-five winters.

Auria knew more than I could’ve hoped, but she wasn’t an idiot. She’d made a few comments that told me just how closely she paid attention to everyone around her. Hopefully, she could also tell me where the dungeon

was. The sooner I could see Asinia, the sooner I could begin working on a plan to get her out.

Finally, the water was cold, and my eyes were heavy with the strain of holding my power. Slipping out of the bath, I pulled on the dress, braided my hair, and opened the door to find Auria waiting for me.

“We can go to the sanctuary together,” she said, taking my arm once more. “This service is just for people who work in the castle. The royal family and the courtiers have their own service available to them in the mornings, although few of the nobles worship as they should.” She frowned.

The sanctuary turned out to be in a separate building behind the castle. The stone was so light it was almost white, and the walls inside were draped with swaths of light-blue cloth. Hundreds of servants dressed in maroon were making their way from the castle toward the sanctuary, and Auria and I joined the crowd shuffling inside.

The ceiling of the sanctuary towered over our heads, adorned with gold etchings. Huge windows on either side spilled the last of the daylight onto the wooden floors, and I followed Auria to a chair a few rows from the front.

Glancing behind me, I looked for Tibris but couldn’t see him anywhere. The skin on the back of my neck tingled, and I turned back around to find one of the king’s assessors sweeping his gaze over the crowd. His black robes swished around his feet as he turned to the priestess.

I sucked in a breath. The High Priestess. She wore a long blue-and-gold gown, a plain gold diadem on her head. I wanted to rip it off her and slam it into her face.

“Are you well, Setella?” Auria asked.

“Yes. Merely excited to worship.” Did the assessors know what the king did with our stolen magic? Did the priestesses know?

The crowd quieted, and the High Priestess launched into her prayers. Most of them were the same as those that were said during Giftings and Takings in the villages, and I followed along automatically.

I turned my attention to the assessor, watching him beneath my lashes. Even disguised as I was, I had to fight the urge to duck lower, hiding myself within the crowd. This assessor was an older man, tall and lean. A permanent frown line was etched between his brows, and his mouth turned

down with displeasure. He angled his head, revealing a long scar across his neck.

I drew in a slow breath as nausea swept through my body.

I was eight winters, and we were preparing to move once more. I would miss my friends, but Papa said it was an adventure, and Tibris had promised he would make enough friends for both of us.

One of our neighbors had insisted we attend a party at her house. Ovida was one of the wealthiest women in our village and had become friends with my mother. Her son Ardaric was Tibris’s age. He and Tibris would sometimes let me play by the river with them.

“Come, Prisca. Have something to eat.” Ovida smiled down at me.

The door crashed open. Ovida whirled, her smile disappearing. My father grabbed my hand and pulled me away, holding me close. “Tibris,” he called, and I’d never heard his voice sound like that before.

Papa was scared.

Tibris stood next to Ardaric, both of them staring at the doorway. I turned my head, dread rippling through my body.

A man dressed in black robes stalked into the room, guards behind him. “Ardaric Narayon,” he called, and Tibris went rigid, shoving his friend behind him. Papa let out a desperate, choked sound that made my chest hurt.

The assessor strolled toward Tibris, and all I could see was my brother’s face, so pale, his lower lip trembling. But he stood his ground.

I launched myself toward him. Papa scooped me up, holding me against his chest and covering my mouth with his huge hand. I twisted in his arms until I could see the assessor looming over Tibris, his hand inches away from his chest. The assessor angled his head and then pushed Tibris away. Mama darted forward and grabbed Tibris’s arm, pulling him toward us.

Ardaric faced the assessor. His chin stuck out, but his eyes were wide and glassy. I kept my gaze on his face as Mama took me from Papa’s arms. Ovida was struggling in the arms of one of the guards,

“Please, please don’t hurt him. Please!” Ovida screamed. “He’s just a little boy.”

Why would Ardaric be hurt? He’d never hurt anyone in this village. He always shared his toys.

Mama leaned close until her lips were pressed against my ear.

“Watch, Prisca. Watch closely. See what happens when a child is caught using forbidden magic.”

The assessor was smiling now, his hand hovering above Ovida’s chest. “One of the corrupt, here in this very village,” he announced.

“Ardaric!” a voice roared. Matous was here. Ardaric’s father was a bear of a man, and he carried his sword. He sliced through one of the guards holding his wife. The assessor ducked, but Matous caught his neck with the edge of his sword. Blood sprayed.

Black spots danced in front of me, and the world suddenly seemed far away. Voices had turned to echoes, but I could hear my father.

“Cover her eyes,” Papa hissed, holding Tibris back. Mama ignored him.

Matous fought like a man possessed, but more guards were streaming into the house, the crowd of villagers pressed against the walls with nowhere to go.

One of the guards ran Matous through. The big man fell to his knees, the light already dimming in his eyes. The eyes that had crinkled each time he smiled at us, handing out sweet treats whenever we visited.

Ardaric’s scream was haunting. Ovida echoed that scream, falling to her knees.

A healer had already arrived and was holding one hand over the assessor’s neck. He pushed her away.

“Without proper healing, it will scar,” she said. “Silence,” the assessor hissed.

The room was quiet but for Ovida’s sobs as the assessor stood once more.

“Oh, how the corrupt have been allowed to flourish in this village,” the assessor said. “We must keep a closer eye on the peasants. Take the corrupt to the city,” he ordered. Ardaric struggled, but he was no match for the guard, who cuffed him about the head. He reached for his mother, arms wild, his mouth open in a silent scream.

“Please don’t take him. Please. Burn me instead. Please! My baby!”

The assessor ignored her, stalking toward the door. Ovida’s eyes met mine, and then she gazed past me to my mother.

“You’re a seer! How could you not see this?” The guard swung his sword.

I cried out. My father’s hand clamped over my eyes. Ovida’s scream cut off with a thud.

I shuddered. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck, and the assessor’s face swam in front of my eyes. The High Priestess was still chanting, so I bowed my head in an attempt to pull myself together.

Had my mother allowed that family to die so I would be forever haunted by the knowledge of what would happen if I were caught? So I would stifle the flame of my magic until the day it burst free, too strong for me to control without training?

She couldn’t have done something so evil. Surely…

Yet this was the same woman who had stolen me from my real family. And never returned me. I had parents out there somewhere who had mourned me. Who had likely assumed I was dead.

I felt eyes on me and glanced over my shoulder. A woman with pale blond hair was staring at me, her gray eyes burning into mine. I turned around and leaned close to Auria.

“Who is that woman behind me? The one who looks like she wants to slit my throat.”

Auria turned. “Oh, that’s Wila,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about her.

She hates everyone.”

The High Priestess flicked us a glance, and I bowed my head. When I was sure she was no longer looking, I watched the assessor.

The child-killer.

I mouthed the prayers and made my own vow.

Before I left this castle—whether it was out the front gates, through the tunnel in the dungeon, or through that same tunnel to the stake—the king’s assessor would be dead.

Finally, we were ready. Time and time again, spies had been sent into Sabium’s castle. And always, he had found them, killing them in new and inventive ways.

So now, it was my turn. Our new plan was bold—bordering on reckless.

But Sabium had taken so much from us, our revenge was well overdue.

I pulled on my boots. We were in some no-name inn, and I’d had little sleep on the sagging mattress the night before. I would have preferred sleeping on the ground, but my men had once again demanded better food.

“You think he’ll issue the invite?” Rythos asked.

Sabium wouldn’t be able to help himself. “Oh yes. If I act suitably chastened and desperate for an alliance, he’ll invite me into the castle.”

“Hunting with him? How will you refrain from killing him?” Marth muttered.

“Simple. Lorian kills him, and we never get into that castle.” Galon glowered at Marth, then turned the same look on me. “This is risky, and you know it.”

“It’s the only option. I’ll meet him to hunt a few beasts, let him best me with his magicked arrows, and tell him I’ve rethought Gromalia’s insistence on staying out of his little issue with the fae.”

As far as the king was concerned, I’d taken the first step, tucking my tail between my legs and agreeing to meet in his kingdom. Sabium’s hunting cabin was close to the town where I had forced Prisca to use her magic.

Amber eyes flashed in front of my face, filled with accusation. I shoved the image away and reached for my bow.

The thought of butchering an animal without the need to eat it was distasteful.

But not as distasteful as the thought of a conversation with Sabium. Of standing that close to him and not ripping out his throat.

“You kill him, and we have no way to find—”

“I know. I won’t kill him. Have our friends arrived?” “See for yourself.”

Pushing the curtain aside, I looked down into the courtyard, where several men waited, all dressed in dark green overcoats.

“Good.” I glanced at Marth, who was waiting by the door, dressed in the same color. He was the only one of us the king would not be looking for. He

nodded to me, and I slung my bow over my shoulder, taking the quiver Galon handed me.

Everything we had done so far—all our plans, years of waiting, and each endless minute of travel—all of it had led to this. I would control my temper, curb my instincts, and secure my invite to the castle.

And then, Sabium would pay.

I spent the next several days cleaning the floors in the servants’ quarters, until Nelia was finally pleased and I was allowed to clean the rest of the castle—although she’d insisted I had to prove myself once more by cleaning the lower levels.

On my fourth day in the castle, I caught sight of Tibris. Something in my chest relaxed. If anything had happened to him, Vicer would’ve found a way to get a message to me. But that hadn’t stopped me from imagining the worst. My brother winked at me as he walked past with several other men, all of them carrying large crates. He was wearing tight breeches that fell to his knees, a maroon waistcoat embroidered in gold, and a shirt with…frills. I gave him a smirk.

When he returned, he nodded to the other men. “I just need a word with my sister.”

“Don’t be too long,” an older, bearded man said. “Are you okay?” Tibris asked.

I nodded. “You?”

“Yes. Prisca…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know where the entrance to the dungeon is.”

My heart stopped. “Truly?”

“Yes. I set everything up for tonight.” His mouth twisted. “But I’ve just learned that the king is traveling overnight and I may be sent as part of his entourage.”

“I’ll go,” I said. “Just tell me where it is.” “I don’t like the idea of you going alone.”

“Tibris,” I said warningly, and he sighed, handing me a few pieces of parchment—all of it in our code. I studied the map on top of the pile, and my heart beat faster in my chest. This was the key to our plans. With this, I could find Asinia.

“I’ve been working on the guards.” He nodded to the parchment—and the instructions I’d have to decipher later. “But I need you to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” “Loukas. Let’s go.”

“I’m coming.” Tibris squeezed my hand. “Good luck.”

That night, I studied the parchment. As usual, my brother had done his research. The guards were replaced at midnight, which meant the best time to get near the dungeon was right before the change, when they would already be tired.

Vicer had said the prisoners were fed once a day—in the morning. I’d still need to watch out for the guards adding new prisoners. Each shift had one guard who was in charge of the dungeon keys. Those keys hung on a large ring from their belt.

I would need to freeze time before they noticed me, take those keys, and sneak into the dungeon. I couldn’t risk getting locked in, which meant I needed to keep the keys. The most dangerous part would be the time I was in the dungeon. If the king’s guard noticed the keys were missing, I was dead.

But Tibris had helped there too. According to his note, he’d made friends with those guards, offering them several of the many bottles of wine that didn’t meet the standards for the king’s table. By the time I arrived, the guards should be deep into their cups.

It was risky. But I needed to see Asinia. Needed to give her hope. There was no point being in the castle if I wasn’t actively finding a way to get her out.

The other women were already in bed when the clocktower struck eleven. Most of them were sound asleep, although Auria was tossing and

turning. Wila had sneered at me when she’d walked in, making it clear she wasn’t interested in friendship.

With a deep breath, I pulled my power to me, jumping out of bed to drag Galon’s cloak over my nightgown. Stuffing a pillow under my blankets, I bolted for the door.

This would be the most I’d used my power in days. And while I’d practiced on the mercenaries while we were riding, this was much, much more important. I dropped the thread of magic and tiptoed down the hall. If only I could freeze time for longer.

I lost myself in fantasies of freezing the entire castle for hours at a time, free to do whatever I needed to do.

Scuffing sounded, and I froze, peering around the corner. Nelia was walking down the corridor, a lamp in her hand. I sucked in a breath, freezing time once more. I wanted to conserve my power, but at this point, I had no choice.

Breaking into a sprint, I careened past Nelia and down the stairs, feeling the thread slowly slipping through my fingers.

By the time I’d reached the lowest level of the castle, that thread had fallen from my grasp. Time resumed, and I was sweating with the effort of holding it as long as I had.

Urgency crawled through me. I needed to move faster.

Tibris had said the entrance to the dungeon was next to the wine cellar. I crept toward it, my heart pounding in my throat. The door looked like it opened to some kind of storage room or closet. It was only the muffled sounds of the guards’ voices that made me pause.

“You hear something?” one of the guards asked, and I scowled down at my traitorous foot. Weeks of traveling with the mercenaries, and I was still no better at sneaking.

“Sure. I heard the sound of me opening another bottle of this wine,” the second guard laughed.

Thank you, Tibris.

Closing my eyes, I reached down, down, down into the place where my power resided. I needed more than a few seconds. I needed enough time to steal the keys and open the door. I needed to get far enough down the stairs that the guards wouldn’t hear me.

I visualized each move I’d make while the guards gossiped about the queen’s ladies. Apparently, one of them was particularly inventive in bed.

Asinia was on the other side of that door. Asinia, who probably assumed she’d been left to die. I didn’t have time for fear. Didn’t have time to second-guess myself.

I opened my eyes. And time stopped.

I knew before I was moving that this time was different. Usually, the thread of my power immediately began slipping from my grasp. Now, I held it tighter than ever before.

Launching myself into motion, I opened the door. This was an antechamber that allowed for the dungeon itself to be guarded without the guards needing to be posted down with the prisoners. Across the room, the door I needed looked like steel, heavy and secure. The guards were sitting down, leaning against the wall next to the door, a bottle of wine on the floor between them. Three other empty bottles were lying next to them.

My brother had done everything he could to make this easier.

The keys hung from the guard’s belt, and I crouched in front of him. It took me several seconds to unhitch them from his belt, but then I was standing, hands shaking as I shoved one of the keys into the door.

Time had begun to slip once more. As tightly as I grasped the thread, it was sliding from me.

Wrong key.

My hands shook harder. The thread slipped even more. My eyes burned.

This was not how it ended.

The next key went all the way in. The lock clicked, the door opening to dark steps. Shoving the keys into the pocket of my cloak, I darted through the door, closing it behind me.

My eyes were still adjusting to the dim light, but I only had moments to get as far as I could from the door. My hand found the smooth wall of the dungeon, and I used it to steady myself, wincing as my palm touched moss and mold. My lungs ached, my mouth was bone-dry, but I picked up my pace, stretching my power until black spots appeared in the edges of my vision.

I dropped the thread and time resumed. A surge of victory flooded through me. I’d made it this far. Ahead, a torch cast an orange glow on the stone wall. I wiggled the torch free and took it with me.

The stairs felt never-ending. The scent of rusty metal and human waste slid up my nostrils before I heard the groans. Dread rose, quickening my

pulse and making my head swim. I forced myself to take several deep breaths, but by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was trembling. The stench was sickening, but it was the cold that made me shudder.

I pulled my cloak up over my head, just in case I found Lina here. She would be desperate for the king’s pardon, and there was a good chance she would recognize me.

Tightening my hand around the torch, I stepped forward.

This was an ageless, evil place. Cells stretched out on either side of me for as far as I could see. I splashed through stagnant puddles of water, peering into each cell, my heart breaking.

Would Asinia even still be alive?

All the prisoners were lying on the floor. Many of them seemed half dead. I crouched outside the closest cell and pressed my face next to the bars.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

The man opened his eyes to slits, but that seemed to take all of his energy. A moment later, those eyes were closed again.

Vicer had warned that the prisoners were kept docile. But this wasn’t just docile. This was much, much worse.

If only I could break them all out. Could lead them straight out the front door of the castle and set them free. Back to their families.

My eyes burning, I stumbled to my feet and kept moving, passing prisoner after prisoner. I kept my voice low, but none of them responded, and I didn’t see Lina.

It felt as if years had passed by the time I found Asinia. She was on my left, curled into a ball on the stone floor, without even a blanket.

My heart cracked into pieces. “Asinia?”

She didn’t reply. My hands shook as I shoved the key into the lock, swinging her cell door open. Crouching next to her, I leaned down.

“Asinia. Please be okay. Asinia, open your eyes.”

She cracked them open. “Pris?” she whispered, her voice so quiet I could barely make out her words. “Dreaming?”

“No, you’re not dreaming.” I pushed Asinia’s hair off her face, and my blood froze in my veins. “You’re burning up.”

“Miss you.”

I had to get her some medicine.

Her eyes met mine, blurry and lost. “My mother is dead.” They sharpened. “So is yours.”

My breath hitched. “I know.”

And then her head was lolling once more.

“She’s not going to last,” a weary voice said, and I turned my head.

The man in the cell to the right of Asinia’s looked about Tibris’s age, although he was little more than skin and bones. I could barely make out his face in this light, but a beard covered most of the lower half of it.

“She will last,” I snarled.

He smiled. “Perhaps she will, with a friend as fierce as you.”

I glanced around us. The cell to the left of Asinia’s was empty. Across the narrow corridor, most of the cells were occupied by more prisoners who lay as if already dead.

Turning my attention back to the prisoner, I surveyed him. The light was too dim to see much, but I could tell his hair was dark and his clothes were in even worse condition than most of the other prisoners I’d seen so far.

“How can you hold a conversation and no one else can?”

He twisted his lips. “I’ve built up somewhat of a tolerance to the guards’ poison.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “What’s your name?” “Demos.”

I closed my eyes. This was the man Vicer had ordered me to get out when I freed Asinia.

“I’m—”

“Don’t tell me.”

Because if he was tortured for that information, he would be forced to give it up.

I blew out a breath. “How long have you been here?”

“Almost two years.” He must have seen the surprise on my face. “I was caught days after Gods Day. For some unknown reason, I was spared during the next Gods Day. I doubt I’ll be as lucky this time.”

He didn’t look all that concerned about it. I had a feeling he was ready to end his existence in this cell.

“Why can’t any of you use your powers?” “Iron poisoning.”

I frowned, peeking at his ears, which were most definitely not pointed. “We’re not fae. We can tolerate fae iron.”

He nodded. “We can tolerate it. But the first thing they do when we’re brought here is slice at our skin and push fae iron into our wounds. Then they crush it into dust and feed it to us in what little food they give us.”

I stored that information away, attempting to distance myself from the sickening reality of it. If I was going to get them both out of here, I needed them to be able to walk.

“Is the iron still in your body?”

He shifted closer, and for a moment, he seemed so familiar I had to blink. Then he was holding up his arm once more, the rags he wore shifting back to show me his shoulder.

The world dimmed around me. Demos was cursing as he tried to cover the wound, but I couldn’t shake the image from my mind. I could still see the infection spreading through his shoulder, the pus oozing from it.

I leaned over Asinia, pushing her tunic off her shoulder. She had a wound in the same spot, though it wasn’t nearly as infected as Demos’s.

Exhaling, I met his gaze. “Why is yours so much worse?”

“I thought I’d dig the fae iron out myself. Turns out, not the best idea. Still, dying from infection beats burning alive,” he said with a grim smile.

I couldn’t disagree. “The guards still only feed you once a day, in the mornings?”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Yes. Keeps us hungry for the next bellyful of iron.”

“Don’t eat for the next few days. Try to make sure Asinia doesn’t either.” It was risky, considering she had no weight left to lose, but a few bites of food tainted with fae iron would likely do more harm than good.

He tilted his head. “You’ve got some kind of plan. Normally, I’d laugh at you. But getting down here tells me you might be my only hope.”

“Just don’t eat the food. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”