Instead of beingAcross—surrounded by stars and darkness—she was surrounded by walls. A dark hallway spread before her,lit every few paces by flickering torchlight. Beneath her feet lay that same mosaicked pattern as the room she’d just left. And it smelled like mint and lime.
She was still in the palace.
Eris gritted her teeth in annoyance.
It happened sometimes. If she was concentrating harder on the place she was trying to leave rather than the place she was trying to get to, the spindle would get confused and blunder up the crossing.
Eris was just about to curse the godsforsaken splinter of wood when something slammed into her from behind, hurtling her forward and causing her to drop the spindle altogether.
“Kozu’s balls!” She spun, watching the spindle roll toward two black leather boots with silver buckles polished to a shine. A hand reached down, picking it up, and as the newcomer rose, so did Eris’s gaze.
The young woman before her was dressed like a palace guard. Only instead of the king’s crest, a flame-like flower blazed across her shirt. She wore no morion, and tucked into her belt were five throwing knives.
“Apologies, soldier.” The young woman’s voice was hard and commanding. The voice of someone used to giving orders—and used to her orders being obeyed. “I didn’t see you there.”
Eris’s gaze snapped to eyes as cold and blue as sapphires. The torchlight made it impossible not to notice the girl’s strong cheekbones or ink-black hair braided away from her face.
Eris knew who this was.
The commandant.
This young woman before her was not only cousin to the king—and therefore royalty—she held that same king’s army in her fist.
A dark memory flickered in Eris’s mind of another cold commander. Fear pooled in her belly. She shook the memory off, stepping back. But the sharp sliver of it lodged in her chest, reminding Eris of who she was. That she needed to leave this place.
Now.
Except her spindle was currently in the commandant’s hand.
The young woman’s gaze moved over Eris quickly and dismissively. It made Eris stiffen. She should have been glad the commandant found nothing of interest in the girl standing before her. Eris wanted—no,needed—to be invisible.
For some reason, though, that indifferent glance rankled her.
The commandant’s lips parted, as if she were about to say something, when a shout echoed from down the hall, interrupting. Making them both turn.
More and more voices joined the first. The soldat Eris had just left was alerting the entire palace to the thief in their midst.
It was an alarm.
Eris waited for the truth to dawn on the commandant’s face the way it had with the soldat. But the commandant was no longer looking at Eris, only frowning in the direction of the alarm.
“That Death Dancer.” Her eyes were sharp with ire. “If he thinks he can steal from the king without consequence, he has no idea who he’s dealing with.”
Eris should have kept her mouth shut. This commandant had her spindle, after all. Her only escape.
But Eris couldn’t help herself.
“How do you know it’s ahe?”
The commandant looked straight at her then. Eris shivered under that cold gaze.Stupid,she thought, even as she stared into the girl’s eyes. What a stupid thing to say.
The commandant studied her as the alarm grew louder in the distance. On her face Eris could clearly see the need to respond to the alarm warring with... what? Wariness? Suspicion?
Any moment now, she’s going to figure it out, draw her weapon, and arrest me.
But the commandant did none of those things. Instead, she held out the spindle, her eyes seeing Eris now, taking all of her in. “You dropped this,” she said.
Eris swallowed, staring at the elegantly carved spindle lying on that callused palm.
