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The Unbreakable Blade.

I turned to Perla. “Does anyone else know about the oath band?”

She shook her head. “Not even Prince Finbar. I go to Holden’s private offices next to the gambling den every night, and he resets the mechanism.”

My specter writhed at the thought of her alone with the general.

“He’s never touched me,” she assured, reading my expression. “He makes a show of our meetings—offering food, making conversation. He resets the band in between bites of his dessert, as if it’s the least important part of his day.”

My fists clenched, and I silently vowed to someday, somehow, make Holden pay. “You’re leaving with us.”

“I told you, I can’t—”

“You can,” Goren said, surprising me. When he met Perla’s eyes this time, it was with an intensity that allowed no room for argument. “Holden isn’t keeping you here. That key is. So, yes, you’re leaving with us.” Then he added, with his usual brand of menace, “Whether you want to or not.”

24

Since Banarrati doors didn’t have locks, and the security breach weighed on everyone’s minds, Lye was taking a sentry shift outside our accommodation building. While Goren headed to the training arena, I trudged to the upper level as the night took on its darkest shade, one last gasp away from dawn.

The opulent lounge was empty when I arrived. Valeria and Keil must have still been entertaining Holden and hopefully forming a plan to get us into his private offices, since Dashiel’s reconnaissance mission looked unpromising.

The guard rotation is tight, he’d said when we’d passed him on the way back from Perla’s chambers. And the extra forces have covered all the blind spots.

Indeed, my heart had sunk at the sight of the dozen guards outside the office building.

We need to find the tomb’s location by tomorrow night if we’re to stand a chance of taking the sword by the final jolly, Goren had said afterward.

As though I hadn’t already been chewing the inside of my cheek raw, worried that we wouldn’t be able to locate Saxon’s tomb in time . . . And therefore wouldn’t be able to retrieve the Unbreakable Blade before Erik made his play for it.

I was rounding into the long corridor that led toward our bedchambers when a shuffle sounded at my back. I whirled around—and then paused, suddenly uneasy.

Because Finbar was standing at the threshold of the corridor, between my exit and the dead end.

“Your Highness.” I warily looked him over, from the dark, disheveled ponytail to the brocade waistcoat, now flapping open. “How did you get in here?”

“Past my cousins’ guard dog, you mean?” He exhaled a laugh; his words slurred around the edges. “Most Banarrati buildings are connected by tunnels to aid escape in the event of attack.”

“Well, has there been an attack?” I demanded.

He slanted his head, the movement eerie in the darkness. “That’s what I’d like to find out.”

Then he strode forward, forcing me to stumble back, my boots scuffing on the tiles.

Boots. Because I was dressed in my all-black attire, looking more like a bandit than a courtier, the compass strapped in a pouch against my thigh.

I was about to attribute my appearance to a spell of exercise in the training arena when Finbar spoke again, hushed and fervent.

“I urge you to inform me if you are being held here against your will.”

I jolted in shock. “Excuse me?”

“You needn’t be afraid.” He glanced over his shoulder, as though the others might overhear. “Holden possesses a direct line of correspondence to Daradon, and I have access. I can inform King Erik of your whereabouts, and he could orchestrate your safe return home.”

My pulse thudded. This was why Finbar had seemed so suspicious. Why he hadn’t wanted to leave me alone with the Ansoran delegation. Because he believed I was their captive.

And that Erik would be my savior.

I swallowed past a shard of icy terror and forced a sleek smile. “I assure you, I am perfectly safe.”