“Oh, hush and read.” I smoothed bold strokes across his legs, scowling. Kallias and his blasted thighs—they’d haunt me for eternity. Couldn’t he find larger trousers? They were enough to drive a woman mad.
The quiet filled with soft scratching and the rustle of pages until her voice returned, low and uncertain. “Do you think he loves you?”
My pencil paused mid-stroke, hovering over his hand. Did Kallias love me? The thought sent my pulse stumbling. I drew short, sharp lines for his fingers, my words subdued. “He loves the idea of me. He needs someone who can secure Radaan’s future. Brains for the lack of Tallon’s.”
“But now you’re more to him than that.”
“They don’t know me. Not him, not Tallon. They knew Ronan in passing. What they wanted and what they got are different things.”
The plate rattled again.
We both stilled, staring at the shadowed outline beyond the sheet. A figure loomed—too gaunt for Edith.
A knife ripped through the linen.
Scythe screamed as I dove off the bed, hitting the floor hard and rolling to my feet. I ran for the door, but froze. Light from the corridor spilled in, revealing guards crumpled in crimson pools.
Scythe’s shriek snapped me back. She kicked, tangling the attacker in the sheet. I spun to help her, but halted in horror. A sword pierced her chest, its tip shining wet with blood.
“No!”
She clutched the figure’s neck, fingers digging into flesh as they locked together in a violent tangle. A guttural grunt escaped the attacker as my pencil jutted from their throat, Scythe’s trembling hand gripping it tight.
“Go!” she gasped, choking on blood as she held them fast.
Instead, I charged. My hands found the pencil, and I yanked it free, warmth spurting across my knuckles. I plunged it back into their neck. Again. Again. My arm jerked with frantic, brutal motions, my only thought a primal demand to end this monster. Crimson spattered my face, hot and metallic, the reek of iron choking me as the figure buckled beneath the assault, his body falling limp against the floorboards with a sickening thud.
Scythe wasn’t moving.
I dropped to her side, pressing shaking hands against her crimson-soaked nightdress. Too much blood. Too fast.
“No, no, no!”
Not her. Not Scythe.
Her unseeing eyes stared past me, their light extinguished. My breath hitched, my chest heaving as the world blurred.
Behind me, a crash tore through the suffocating silence. My head snapped up. Another assassin loomed, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
I stumbled to my feet and bolted for the hidden passage. The dresser, still shoved aside, offered my only escape. My heart hammered as I clawed at the narrow door, yanking it open, then throwing myself into the pitch-black tunnel.
It slammed shut behind me, but a gloved hand wedged into the gap. I kicked, my heel connecting with the wood in desperate, jarring blows. I hurled the latch down, and a sharp cry followed the brittle snap of bones. Dust coated my bloodied fingers, filling my nostrils with the scent of must and old timber.
The door shuddered as if something heavy rammed against it.
Fear choked me as I scrambled on hands and knees into the suffocating darkness. My palms slid over uneven planks, splinters biting into my skin. My breaths came fast and shallow, each one laced with the coppery taste of blood and panic.
I had no light. Only memory guided me through the twisting black void.
A sudden stab of pain lanced through my palm. I cried out, pitching forward as my head struck the wall with a hollow thud. Stars burst behind my eyes, but I shoved off the ground, feeling along the rough wooden walls.
Panic gripped me, tightening its hold as I edged toward what I prayed was the right turn.
The door crashed open.
I bit my tongue, muffling a whimper as I clawed forward.Please, please, please. My nails caught on the small splintered frame. I shoved it, my mind racing, my body quaking.
“Gods!” I hissed, thrusting my shoulder into it.
