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PROLOGUE
An eerie quiet descended upon the chamber of the foundling home, hushing the soft snores and wheezy breaths from those sleeping on the cots in the chamber. Missing the warm beds found at the Priory of Mercy, I tightened my aching fingers around the scratchy, worn blanket. I never slept well on the floor, where the mice and rats usually scurried all night.
But tonight, there were no glimpses of their thin, slick tails, nor did I hear the rap of their claws upon the stone. That should be a welcome discovery, but something didn’t feel right. Not about the floor beneath me or the air I breathed.
I’d woken with tiny goose bumps all over my skin and a bad feeling in the pit of my belly. The Prioress had taught me to always trust my second sight, the pull of my intuition, and the urge of my instinct. They were gifts, she’d told me over and over, given by the gods because I was born from the stars.
I didn’t understand what she’d meant by the whole star part, but right now, my intuition was telling me something was very wrong.
I eyed the damp stone walls lit by the gas lanterns, searching for a sign of what made my belly feel like I’d eaten spoiled meat. By the door, a light flickered and went out. The lantern by the window sputtered, then ceased as another did the same. Across the chamber, the last lamp went dead.
No fingers had cut off the light. I would’ve seen anyone who dared risk inciting the Mister’s ire by messing with the lanterns.
My gaze darted back to the fireplace. The flames from the coals still burned, doing a poor job of heating the chamber, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. The fire . . . it made no sound. Not a crackle or a hiss.
A shiver of dread stirred the tiny hairs along the nape of my neck and spider-walked its way down my spine.
Beside me, a lump shifted beneath the blanket and rolled. Tufts of curly, messy brown hair appeared as Grady peered over the edge of the blanket. He blinked sleep-heavy eyes. “Whatcha doing, Lis?” he murmured, his voice cracking halfway through. It had been doing that more and more of late, starting around the same time he’d begun to grow like the weeds in the yard behind the home.
“Lis?” Grady rose slightly, holding the blanket to his chin as the flames in the fireplace began to weaken. “Was the Mister bothering you again?”
I gave a quick shake of my head, having not seen the Mister even though my arms were lined with evidence of other nights and his mean, pinching fingers.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he frowned. “Did you have a bad dream or something?”
“No,” I whispered. “The air doesn’t feel right.”
“The air . . . ?”
“Is it ghosts?” I croaked.
He snorted. “Ghosts aren’t real.”
I squinted. “How do you know?”
“Because I . . .” Grady trailed off, looking over his shoulder as the flames of the fireplace collapsed, leaving the room lit by slivers of moonlight. His head turned slowly as he scanned the chamber, noticing the dead lanterns then. His wide gaze shot to mine. “They’re here.”
My entire body jerked as an icy wave of terror swept over me.They’re herecould mean only one thing.
The Hyhborn.
The scions of the gods looked like us— well,mostof them did, but those who ruled the Kingdom of Caelum weren’t like us low-born. They weren’t mortal at all.
And they had no reason to be here.
It wasn’t the Feasts, when the Hyhborn interacted more openly with us lowborn, and this was the Rook. We weren’t in the pretty places with things and people of value. There was no pleasure in anything to be found here for them to feed upon.
“Why are they here?” I whispered.
Grady’s hand clamped down on my arm, the chill of his fingers bleeding through my sweater. “I don’t know, Lis.”
“Are they . . . Will they hurt us?”
“They have no reason to. We haven’t done a thing wrong.” He pulled us down so that our heads shared the same flat pillow. “Just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep. They’ll leave us be.”
I did what Grady said, like I’d done ever since he’d stopped shooing me away from him, but I couldn’t stay silent. I couldn’t stop the fear from building on top of itself, making me think the worst. “What if they . . . what if they are here for me?”
He tucked my head under his. “Why would they be?”
