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‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Rea!’ Vasilio’s hair frantically flew about in the soft breeze as he rushed towards them.

Rymedur sent a thought to his shadows, which had them skittering away in seconds to search the immediate area for assailants.

‘We have to go!’ Vasilio’s breath was ragged as he heaved his explanation. It almost sounded to Rymedur like he had run all the way. ‘I may or may not have killed a guard. Oh, don’t look at me like that! He tried to jump me while I was pissing, and you know me, I’m a stab first, ask questions later kind of elf!’

‘Vas!’ Areanel grumbled, shaking her head in obvious disapproval as she approached Rymedur.

‘Great going, Vassy,’ Caius said, ‘now the whole of Alabasus will be looking for us.’

Recognition. Shock. Horror. Loathing. Those weren’t the expressions Rymedur had expected to witness from an old friend. So, why had they crossed Vasilio’s face?

‘Come on,’ Caius urged as he passed them. ‘I have somewhere we can lay low for a while.’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ Vasilio’s brow pinched in disgust. Rymedur thought it was odd how his question was aimed at Areanel, like he couldn’t bring himself to address Caius, though he stood before him.

Rymedur’s attention shifted to Areanel; he wanted to gauge her reaction, but she was already moving away from him and towards Percival, whose boots silently hit the ground as he dropped from the adjacent roof. ‘The guards have shifted their position,’ he informed them. ‘They’re coming this way.’

Chapter 42

Areanel

It had been three hours since they had managed to evade the Alabasus guards, thanks to Caius’s help. Areanel didn’t know how he’d managed to get the guards off their tail—be it bribery, threats or manipulations—but it didn’t matter, because after three hours of lying low, the guards finally eased their search.

Three hours. Three hours since he had offered them safety in his apartment and then left them to their own devices. He had told them he was going to scout the area just to be sure they hadn’t been followed, but Areanel had a feeling that was an excuse. Was he avoiding her? But why? She had thought they had gotten over this, moved on from their past. She entirely hadn’t forgiven him, but she understood why he did it—she would have done the same, had done it time and time again. Even she could not disobey her father’s orders, so how would she expect him to? So, why did he insist on continued avoidance?

Areanel had spent those three hours contemplating what to do.

Caius.

The name rattled through her like a snake settling in her skull. She had never thought she would see him again. Yet here he was.

Ryyen had informed her that one of their spies would be meeting them. She had assumed it would be Ilyas. But Caius? They should have told her. Warned her. She was beyond furious. Areanel hated being caught off guard.

Why hadn’t they told her? She needed to speak with Ryyen as soon as possible, but with such close quarters, they were unable to speak privately, so Areanel had sent Ryyen to survey the princes, Elmrynn and Nymlaris—who had arrived in Alabasus yesterday—as they readied for negotiations.

Much to her dismay, Areanel had woken early. There had been barely any time for sleep over the last week they had been in Alabasus, but alas, her mind had other ideas.

Moonlight slipped from the moth-eaten curtains, sending rays of silver light speckling through the small, cramped room. Areanel could not believe Caius had brought them here of all places. To this apartment.

Darkness crowded her vision, the spots of moonlight the only reprieve—stark against the dark wooden bedposts. Areanel’s gaze followed the swirl of dust particles within the small rays, a cyclone shifting back and forth.

Why had he kept this old apartment?

Examining the cool tones of paint that had begun to chip and wear at the corners of the room, exposing the aged brick and the cracks hidden beneath, Areanel couldn’t help but remember every stolen moment, every quiet night just like this one. But those memories were no longer good. They had been tainted—warped—by time and past mistakes.

Tracing the large cracks with her eyes, Areanel followed the lines up the walls to where they raced across the ceiling above. The featherlight brush of a phantom paw against her mind was the only indication her wolves were as restless as she. Areanel had solidified that wall of power around her mind—a barrier muffling their bond. It would do neither her nor her bonded any good to constantly worry about the other.

Sleep evaded her. Insomnia was an old foe—persistent and unwelcome. Tonight was no different.

A part of her had hoped exhaustion would finally take over, but no matter what she did, her mind wouldn’t stop. Every hole in her plan for the coming days played on her mind like a loop. What if she’d made a mistake? What if her father discovered she had disobeyed him? What if it was a trap?

And then there was her mother’s prophecy… “A war waged from the hatred of one’s heart shall befall the land.” The first line of the prophecy felt like a brand on her soul. What if it referred to the hatred in her heart? The scorn she had for those who claimed responsibility for her youngest son’s death? What if her mother was right and she was the monster who brought about the downfall of her father’s kingdom?

What if, what if, what if…

So, there she lay, eyes trained on the ceiling, forcing her mind to focus on the river of cracks zigzagging a path across the monotone paint.

A hot breath of air whooshed, barrelling into the side of her neck and sending strands of loose hair across her face, sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. Areanel’s lips inched upward as a small smile found its way onto her face. Then, a weight wrapped around her bare waist, tightening its grip and pulling her closer to the solid form that lay by her side.