The guards stared stone-faced ahead as they marched Virelai to her room. Their fingers dug uncomfortably into the soft flesh of her upper arms, but even though she’d complained they were going to leave bruises, they refused to relax their grip. It seemed they thought she would run away.

  Ha, Virelai thought, like I don't know any better.

  She may have fallen for Cylan's little act, but she wasn't stupid. She knew her limits and was well aware she would never be able to outrun them—not when they trained for hours every day. She couldn't compete with that, and she didn't plan to try. No, she would have to find another way of slipping out of here.

  And she would need to be quick about it.

  Cylan would waste no time in going back to the house and making good on his orders from her father. Virelai could only hope if she didn't make it there in time, Eryx would be smart enough to get them out. He had, after all, been the one to warn her.

  Cylan's mocking smile filled her mind's eye. She wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face. With his abilities, she should have known her father would be using him. Gavaran wouldn't let that kind of opportunity slip through his fingers.

  Virelai halted suddenly as another thought occurred to her. Cylan could have been watching her without her even knowing he was there. How long had he been following her around? Had he been in her room? Her skin crawled at the thought of everything he could have seen.

  A sharp yank on her arm sent her stumbling forward again, and she shot a glare at the guard on her left. He ignored her and kept walking forward, pulling her along. He better hope I never sit on the throne, Virelai thought, or he is going to regret this moment.

  When they arrived at her room, the guards finally released her arms and let her walk in on her own. To her relief, both of them stayed outside the door. At least that was one thing going in her favor.

  Now, to figure out how she was going to get out of here. She wouldn't be slipping out by the normal route. Using one of her usual excuses to send the guards away was out of the question.

  Her eyes landed on the door leading to her balcony. Maybe . . .

  Virelai crossed the room and tested the door. It slid open easily. They hadn't even bothered to lock it. Their mistake.

  She walked over to the railing and looked down.

  On second thought, maybe they were right.

  You don't have a choice, she reminded herself. It's either this or end up married to Harloth.

  First, Virelai decided, she would need to get a rope. The stone walls of the castle were too smooth to free climb.

  After a quick search, it became clear there wasn't a rope to be found anywhere in her room, but she did have bed sheets.

  Virelai got to work, stripping the bed and creating her rope.

  After she had tied together every piece of fabric she could get her hands on, she carried her creation out to the balcony. The sun had started to set, making the ocean look like it was on fire. She needed to hurry. Cylan could already be on the move.

  Taking one end, she tied it to the railing. She gave it a sharp tug to test the hold and was satisfied when the knot held. Now for the moment of truth—would the rope be long enough to reach the ground?

  Virelai gathered it up in her arms and dropped it over the edge.

  To her dismay, it was nowhere close to the ground.

  Now what?

  If only she had her wind, then none of this would be a problem. She had seen others use their abilities with wind to fly, but never tried it herself.

  Virelai reached for her magic, calling to the wind. The last time she had tried this, she had barely gotten a light breeze.

  She closed her eyes and focused on using every last drop of magic.

  Come on. Come on. Come on.

  And the wind answered her call.

  It wrapped around her, enveloping her in a comforting cocoon of ocean-scented air. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead as she struggled to keep holding it around her. Finally, she lost her grip, and the wind vanished.

  Swiping her sleeve across her forehead, Virelai smiled. It was enough.

  Dressed head to toe in black, Ren was like a living shadow. He slipped around the side of the wall, moving between pools of darkness, looking for the weak spot Kestrel had told him about. She had been convinced no one else knew of its existence, and if he was lucky, that would still be the case.

  Ren dragged his fingers along the smooth stone, trying to ignore the heads on stakes a few feet away. It seemed the new king had done some redecorating.

  Ren grimaced. Someone should really tell him that his decorations were falling apart. Enough time had passed that the elements had taken their toll on the gruesome figurines.

  Too bad they were only heads. He could do nothing with heads—bodies without heads, though . . . those he could work with.

  Ren’s fingers found what he was looking for and, with a bit of wiggling, he pulled himself through the hole to stand on the other side of the city walls. He flattened himself there for a moment as he took in his surroundings.

  He was in the eastern part of the city, close to the gates and far from the shadow of the castle. The nearby buildings were set close together and going by what Kestrel had told him, they were residences for families.

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  After confirming there was no one else around, Ren set off down a narrow alley that he hoped would lead to a street.

  As he zigzagged through the city, drawing closer to the castle, he kept an eye out for guards. The lack of elves made him think there was likely a curfew in place, and a curfew required someone to enforce it.

  He was just crossing the street to head to what Kestrel had referred to as the Street of Shops when the sound of rushed footsteps made him pause. Ducking into the shadows, Ren waited. A moment later, he was rewarded when a cloaked figured darted past his hiding spot.

  It seemed he wasn't the only one sneaking around tonight.

  By the slight build, Ren guessed whoever it was had to be female. An odd time of night for a female to be wandering alone.

  Curiosity got the better of him, and he made a split-second decision to follow her.

  When he ducked out of the alleyway, he was met with a blade in his face.

  Slowly, he lifted his gloved hands to show he was unarmed.

  "Why are you following me?" a feminine voice asked, confirming his earlier suspicion. "Did my father send you?"

  "I wasn't—" Ren started to say, but then her last words sank in. "Your father?"

  The point of the dagger pressed against his throat, making him wish he had a weapon of his own.

  "Why are you following me?" the girl asked again. "Who sent you?"

  Ren lifted his chin, exposing more of his throat. "A little bird sent me."

  It was the truth. A kestrel was a type of bird, after all.

  The girl yanked back her hood, exposing her deep auburn hair. There was a cut on her right cheek just below her eye, making her look like she’d recently been in a fight.

  It was the hair that gave it away.

  "Virelai?"

  She had been firmly on the list of elves to avoid, but he’d expected her to be inside the castle, not skulking in the shadows like a petty thief.

  "If my father didn’t send you, how do you know my name?" she asked, confirming his guess.

  "Same little bird," Ren answered with a grin.

  Virelai scowled. "Does this bird have a name?"

  Ren debated his answer. This could go one of two ways. He could tell her who had sent him, and she would call the guards or whoever did the beheading around here, or he could lie, and she would call for the guards anyway.

  Neither was a great option. He rather liked his head where it was.

  "Well?" she snapped when he took too long to answer. "I don't have time for this. Either my father sent you, or he didn't, which is it? And no more of this bird nonsense."

  "He didn't. He has no idea I’m here, and I have no interest in you." That wasn’t entirely true, since Ren did want to know why the king’s daughter was wandering the streets at night and seemingly paranoid about Gavaran sending someone to follow her. This did not align with the things he’d been told about her.

  Virelai eyed him uncertainly, and then, to his surprise, dropped the dagger from his throat.

  "If you're not after me, then what are you doing here, human?"

  She was observant, he would give her that.

  "I told you. A little bird sent me." Ren glanced around, checking for watching eyes. "Do you think we could have this conversation somewhere more . . . private?"

  "Who said I want to have a conversation with you? I have places to be."

  "In the middle of the night?" Ren lifted one eyebrow.

  She didn't respond, but turned on her heel and made to leave.

  "Wait!" Ren reached for her arm, but stopped short of touching her.

  Virelai paused, glaring at his outstretched hand. His gloves covered the shadows curling around his fingers, but it still felt like she was looking at them.

  "I propose an information exchange," he said, dropping his hand back to his side. "You tell me what I want to know, and I will tell you why I'm here."

  It was a gamble, he knew, but Ren had a good feeling about his odds. She was curious, but he wasn't sure how far that curiosity would extend. It was the hint of desperation he could sense that he was banking on.

  "Fine. Come with me."

  He expected her to turn in the direction of the castle, but instead, she headed in the direction he’d come from and away from her presumed home. Interesting.

  The walk was surprisingly short. Virelai led him to a small house and, with a quick look around, unlocked the front door.

  She gestured for him to enter first. The dagger she had held to his throat was now pointed at his back. He wasn't sure if he would call it an improvement.

  Ren stepped inside with her following on his heels, shutting the door firmly behind them.

  "Virelai?" a female voice called. "Is that you?"

  Ren froze. He’d expected them to be alone.

  A moment later, the owner of the voice rounded the corner with a pot in her hand. It was only a girl around Sterling's age, and when she caught sight of him standing there next to Virelai, she halted in her tracks.

  "Are you from the camp?" she asked him.

  "Uh . . . no, I don't think so." They couldn’t know about their camp already. They’d only been outside the walls for a few hours.

  "What camp are you talking about?" Virelai asked behind him.

  "The human camp,” the younger elf said. “You know, the one you sent me to investigate."

  Before either he or Virelai could respond to that statement, another voice called out from deeper in the house.

  "Is something wrong? Who was at the door, Wisteria?"

  Wisteria? It seemed familiar. Ren wracked his brain, trying to remember if that name had been on his list.

  Then it came back to him. Wisteria was the servant girl Seraiah had said might help him. She was younger than he’d expected, but this had to be the one.

  "Eryx—" Wisteria started to say, and Virelai shifted beside him. That was when Wisteria seemed to notice the dagger Virelai had pointed at his back and immediately shut her mouth.

  But it was already too late. Now Ren knew the most important person on his list was in this very house with the new king's daughter and a servant girl who’d made friends with Seraiah.

  Things were getting very interesting, indeed.

  The elf Ren assumed was Eryx—he matched the description Kestrel had given—entered the front entry a moment later, followed by an older human man who looked vaguely familiar.

  "Who are you?" Eryx asked when he caught sight of Ren.

  "That's a very good question," Virelai said. "One I have been asking him since we met, but the only thing he will say is that a little bird sent him. I couldn't waste any more time getting answers out of him, so I brought him along."

  "What's going on? Did Cylan deliver my message?"

  "I got your warning, but it was too late." Virelai shook her head, a bit of that desperation Ren had sensed earlier creeping back into her expression. "We need to get out of here. My father knows. He knows everything. He gave Cylan orders to take care of you and burn down the house. He could be here any moment."

  Eryx didn't seem surprised.

  "We are going to die," Wisteria murmured to herself, looking like she was about to faint.

  "What does your father know?" Ren asked.

  He felt the prick of Virelai's dagger against his back. "None of your business."

  "I thought we were exchanging information."

  "You first. Tell us your name and who sent you."

  "All right. All right. Since you asked so nicely. My name is Ren," he said calmly as though there weren't four pairs of eyes and a dagger trained on him, "and I was sent by Kestrel. I believe you all know each other."

  "She made it," Eryx said, sounding dazed. "She's alive."

  "And Seraiah?" Wisteria asked. "Did she make it too?"

  "Yes, they are both alive, and they sent me to see if you were alive, among other things. They say hello."

  Ren shot a glance at Virelai standing next to him. "Sorry," Ren said to her. "I don't have any messages for you. Everyone assumes you're still alive."

  "And no one cares," she finished for him. "Yes, I'm sure."

  "Where is she? Where is Seraiah? Is Sterling with her?" the only other human in the room asked, stepping out from behind Eryx.

  "And who are you?" Virelai asked, seeming to notice him for the first time.

  "I found him." Wisteria jumped in before the man could answer. "This," she gestured to him, "is Seraiah and Sterling's father. We escaped the human camp together."

  Ren blinked. Seraiah hadn't mentioned her father was here. Just when he’d thought his luck couldn't get any better, it seemed he had won the entire pot with his gamble. If Ren knew anything, though, it was that this crazy streak of luck was likely to run out sooner rather than later.

  And he didn't want to be in this city when it did.

  "How would everyone feel about a reunion?"