My heart jerks at the shrill sound tapping down fromabove.From somewhere past that fucking trapdoor in the ceiling I was told not to go through.
Shoving up too fast for my unlubricated brain, I dig through the pocket of my tight pants, weald in hand as I creep up the jagged stairs in the wall.
Pausing directly beneath the trapdoor, I wait.
Listen.
Tink—ting-ting-ting … TINK. TINK. TINK.
“Fuck,” I mouth, shoving a hand through my hair as I look down at Gruffin …
Raeve’sone conditionfor staying here was that I not go through this door. Under any circumstance. But what if this place is compromised and something dangerous is living up there? Would I be able to live with myself if I don’t investigate, only for Gruffin to get eaten while my guard’s down?
No. I’d be willingly throwing myself on Raeve’s blade.
Tink—ting-ting-ting … TINK. Ting-ting-ting.
“Fuck it.”
I flatten my hand against the trapdoor and push, wincing when the hinges creak.
The sounds dissipate. All the confirmation I need.
I shove the hatch and charge through, whipping around. Take in as much as I can of the open living space in one swift sweep of my eyes.
Roughly hewn. Painted black. A big, open window that’s failing to let the cold in.
The decadent smell of baked buttermin and a taunting blend of spices make every breath a treat, the black kitchenette to my left piled with filthy dishes and—
Loaves.
Stacks and stacks of rich brownloaves.
What is going on?
I move around the stone table that dominates the room, spawned from the ground like a crooked mushroom andcoveredin Runi tools and tinctures. The sort of shit that would bring Roan to his knees.
A lump of glittery black stone catches my eye, split in half, its core a marble of swirling silver. Like its liquid, butnot.
I avert my gaze before I vomit again.
Scanning the large stone seater draped in a cushy throw—softened with a thick swab that looksreallykind to my aching muscles—I consider the very real possibility that Raeve was fucking with me. Confining me to her cell-like slumbersuite when there’s an entire suite up here, equippedwith everything I need to cook a good meal and get more than a blink of sleep. Or maybe it’s because whoever lives up here is just as stabby as Raeve and I’m about to be gutted …
Creators, that’ll be unfortunate.
“Hello?”
Amongst the tabletop shambles, the bright-red streak of a feather catches my gaze; glittery. Curly at the tip. Almost the length of my forearm.
Frowning, I reach for it—
There’s a smear of motion. The soft patter of bare feet on stone as someone leaps out from behind the seater so fast I barely have a chance to pull breath before we collide.
Or beforeitcollides withme.
I go flying backward. Land heavy on the ground, my head smashing stone so hard I lose grip of my weald.
Everything blurs, a burst of pain pounding my skull as something cold and sharp notches against my throat.
