Page 11

“Good thing I’m working on the inside, then,” I counter, flashing a wry grin despite the tightening in my chest.

The reply earns a small, reluctant smile.

I fall silent as Maxim guides me through the ground floor of the palace. Its grandeur is overwhelming, with its high ceilings, intricate carvings, and walls adorned with tapestries. I commit it all to memory, but I pay more attention to the small details, from the creak of certain floorboards to where the shadows are cast as the light filters through the stained-glass windows.

We step through an archway and pause at the first door beyond. With a wave of his hand, he directs my attention down the hallway.

“These are the northern halls,” he says, “but most of us call it the Artery. Everything flows through here eventually.”

I cross my arms, trying to keep the unease from my voice. The walls seem to press inward the longer I look. “You make it sound like the palace has a pulse.”

Maxim leans in, his voice dropping enough to seem conspiratorial. “It does. But it’s people like you and me who make it beat. People no one sees.”

“Is that supposed to inspire me?”

“It’s meant to remind you that being invisible can be powerful.”

That silences me. As much as I want to argue, I can’t—because he’s right. The Aviary instilled that idea into me. As tempting as it is to chase after Aella, I have no idea where she is, and all I can do to ensure her safety is make sure I’m not taken as a bargaining chip.

Though his role as the Eagle is a secret, Lord Malis is publicly known as an advisor to the Crown. It’s very likely he’ll be at the palace at the time, so this is the last place he would expect me to run. I’ll be hiding in plain sight. Servants see everything—who comes and goes, who whispers in the shadows, who holds the real power—but no one truly sees them.

“The servant quarters are also all located down here. Dimos will assign you to one,” Maxim continues, oblivious to how his words had turned my thoughts.

“What are the rules here?” I ask, tilting my head. “Bed by bells? Don’t get caught in someone else’s room?”

“No wandering. Unless you have a reason for being somewhere, don’t find yourself in places you shouldn’t.”

“Define ‘wandering,’ ” I say, widening my eyes in a mockery of innocence.

“I have a feeling you’ll know it…when you’re caught.” With a shake of his head, his expression softens. “If you get lost, ask for me. Most people won’t help you unless there’s something in it for them. But I will.”

His words hang in the air, startlingly sincere in a way that makes my stomach clench. Not because they’re grand, but because they’re…rare.

I study him, searching for cracks in his calm exterior. His face is somehow open and unreadable all at once.

“Why?” I ask finally.

“Because Kal—Prince Kallias,” he corrects himself, with the faintest grimace, “may not realize it yet, but if his sister ever finds out we treated you carelessly, we’ll all pay dearly for it.”

That shouldn’t make warmth bloom in my chest. But it does.

Perhaps I’ve found an ally in the prince’s guard.

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to survive Master Dimos on your own.” There’s a flicker of humor in his gaze, gone almost as quickly as it arrives, as he lifts his hand and knocks on the door beside us.

Before I can respond, he’s already retreating down the hallway.

The door beside me creaks open, and the warmth fades as a tall, lanky man swathed in robes fixes his gaze on me. His dark hair is pulled tight away from his face, emphasizing the hawklike eyes set above a prominent nose that rake over me, and I’m reminded that in my position, even allies can be as dangerous as enemies.

Chapter 5

Aella

My fingers glide over the smooth skin of my palm as I watch the crew lash the ship to the dock. The mark is gone, swallowed into my flesh, but I can still sense it—a phantom brand carved deep beneath the surface.

It’s been six days since Lyxander and I struck our bargain, and in that time, we’ve carried out our roles of captor and captee. The more convincing our facade, the harder it should be for the Aviary to determine whether we’re truly working together or not. Every glare, every sharp word exchanged in the crew’s presence, is a calculated move in the game we’re playing.

We’ve stolen moments for hushed arguments and stilted plotting, but every plan feels half formed. Lyxander, despite claiming he needs an ally, doles out information in fragments, leaving me to piece together a puzzle with missing edges. My understanding of the Aviary’s tactics can only take us so far when he refuses to trust me with the full picture.