Moving like shadow itself, I dressed in silence—worn black leather pants, my battered denim jacket. I slipped the knives from under the floorboard, the ones we’d scavenged over the years, and strapped them into the holsters at my thighs. My black curls were quickly tied back with a frayed bit of string, then tucked beneath my threadbare woollen hat. I left my necklace on but tucked it inside my shirt. I hesitated for just a breath before draping our best blankets around his too-thin shoulders, like a promise I couldn’t speak aloud.
“I’ll be back.” The words broke softly into the air, swallowed by the quiet. He didn’t hear me.
Outside, the city was already pulsing. I could hear the shrill merriment of the celebration—drums pounding, hornsblaring—as the king’s parade of painted liars and bejewelled sycophants made their way toward Blackspire Keep.
The hideous gothic palace loomed above the city from its throne atop Martyrs’ Peak. Built of black granite veined with obsidian, it devoured the light like a starving god. It didn’t just sit above Varrowmere—it ruled it, casting a shadow so long it touched every alley and gutter.
And tonight, I would steal something from beneath that shadow.
My goal was simple—if borderline suicidal.
I was gambling everything on the hope that the king’s need for worship outweighed his appetite for control. Today, nearly every able body would be on the streets, their faces painted with delight, their cheers forced through gritted teeth. The king thrived on devotion the way the rest of us needed air. And anyone who didn’t perform their joy with enough enthusiasm risked vanishing into the dungeons.
But the Sentinels and Shades would be watching the parade goers – not the shadows.
The parade, grotesque as it was, offered the perfect cover. While the masses played their part, I’d slip through the alleys and make for the healer’s hut on the outskirts of the palace walls. It was the closest medical outpost to Blackspire Keep—which meant it had to be stocked with the best. Supplies reserved for nobles. Wounds dressed with silk. Medicine made from things the rest of us couldn’t even pronounce.
And if I was right, it held exactly what I needed to save Finn.
As I neared the city centre, the press of bodies thickened. Mothers clutched their children’s hands in white-knuckled grips, dragging them toward the sidewalks with tense urgency.No one wanted to risk the wrath of a Shade—not today. Not ever.
I slipped between buildings, sticking to the narrow arteries of the city like a shadow in motion. Each alleyway I passed became another opportunity to vanish. I let the darkness curl around me like smoke, masking my steps, my breath, my presence.
So far, so good.
The noise of the crowd surged ahead like a tide. People gathered in droves along the main thoroughfare, desperate to show their loyalty—or at least appear to. The stench of body heat, perfume, and sweat hit me even from my position in a cramped alleyway between a greengrocer and a boarded-up lawyer’s office. The desperation in the air was tangible, like iron on the tongue.
I pressed back into a crack in the wall, calling the shadows to me until they cloaked me entirely. The world outside dulled, and I slipped through, phasing into the stone, my essence moving between the cracks like smoke through keyholes.
I emerged into a forgotten passage, an abandoned alley veiled in grime and shadow.
Perfect.
From my hidden spot, I could see the towering obsidian walls of Blackspire Keep looming like a death knell over the city. Sleek and merciless, they encircled the castle like a snake with its coils drawn tight. Getting closer would mean leaving cover, risking open ground.
I pressed myself against the wall and peeked around the alley’s edge, shrouded in the curl of my shadows. The crowd was thick, their faces all turned toward the parade, voices buzzingin a low, reverent hum. If I timed it right, I could slip behind them—just far enough.
The main gate yawned open in anticipation of the king’s arrival. Golden trumpets blared. Drums thundered.
Maybe I could blend into the throng? Use the distraction, creep toward the door, vanish into the threshold. The idea made my pulse spike.
But if anyone caught even a glimpse of me...
Think, Elle. Think.
Iknewthe healer’s hut was just past those gates—tucked inside the outer perimeter of the castle. I had seen it before, last time the palace opened the gates. I had made a note of it, like a spy, mapping out all places of interest to someone like me. I knew I was small and sneaky. You couldn’t live this long on the streets without a little bit of knowledge. I knew how to fight, though my muscles were weak from lack of food. Survival was my only plan.
And right now, that was the best place for me to go.
With the parade and the following parties, the best physician in the capital would be stationed at the palace today, waiting on noble hypochondriacs and royal whiners.
And that was my window.
Something soft brushed my calves and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked down—ready to strike—and blinked in confusion. A sleek black cat wound itself around my legs, tail flicking like it owned the place.
“Gods,” I whispered. “You scared me.”
The cat gave a chirping mewl in response, completely unfazed. I almost smiled.
