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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.