“There’s Davis,” Madinia announced airily. “We may take a walk in the moonlight later.”
Her tone made it clear what exactly she meant by that. Pelopia sent her a grin. “I do so love the moonlight.”
Lorian was striding toward us. “You look lovely as always, Your Majesty,” he purred, and the queen put her hand in his.
“As do you, Prince Rekja,” she said. “That color suits you.”
While she saw red hair and pale skin, she still wasn’t wrong. Lorian had always suited black.
“You’re too kind.”
The queen merely nodded, slipped her hand from his, and strolled away. Lorian turned to me.
“Will you dance with me…Setella?”
I nodded, heart in my throat as I took his arm and allowed him to lead me to the center of the ballroom.
“You look delicious.”
“Would you be serious? We’re about to—”
He slid his hand up to the bottom of my ribs, his thumb caressing just beneath my breast. I shivered, and his eyes heated. “So responsive,” he murmured. “I know what we’re about to do. It doesn’t change the fact that I want to strip that dress off you and see what I find beneath it.”
“You’ll find knives,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
His smile was dark—almost feral. “Wicked women are my weakness.”
I couldn’t help but grin up at him.
He squeezed my other hand lightly, and his expression turned serious. “Are you ready?”
“Of course.”
I glanced at Madinia, who was smiling coyly at Davis across the ballroom. She murmured something to him, and he took her hand, leading her out of the ballroom and into the gardens outside. Good.
Tibris would be in place near the cellar. Vicer… Gods, I hoped he’d managed to sneak in.
It all came down to this. Everything rested on how well I could hold time stagnant. And for how long.
I sucked in a deep, steadying breath.
And grabbed my power with everything I had.
The music stopped. Everyone froze. Relief flashed through me, but we didn’t have time for me to reflect on it.
Across the room, Marth continued moving, already heading toward the door. Lorian did the same, dragging me with him. But first, he reached out and unhooked the queen’s necklace with those quick hands. It was around my own neck before I realized he’d moved.
“I believe I owed you jewels,” he said.
I just shook my head at him.
Telean stood waiting. When she saw us, her shoulders sank a little in obvious relief. She swept past us into the ballroom, ready to unclasp bracelets and necklaces. To unhook earrings and remove tiaras and diadems. All of which would be tucked into thick, stolen cloaks.
By the time we got to the dungeon entrance, Tibris had already unlocked the door and was gone. Vicer stood next to the unlocked door, handing out keys for the cells. That replication magic again. Lorian and I each took one, Rythos, Cavis, and Galon appearing behind us, expressions grim, eyes alight. Just seeing them all together, ready to help free the hybrids… Something loosened in my chest. We could do this.
I hauled up my dress and shot down the stairs. Already, I could feel my grip on my power loosening slightly. I sucked in a panicked breath and held tighter. I’d trained so hard, again and again, but time wasn’t meant to be stopped. Not even for this.
In the dungeon, the prisoners were already waiting for us to step out of the way so they could begin moving up the stairs. All of them had stopped eating the food they were given days ago and had eaten the food we managed to smuggle down instead. All of them had a healed scar where their oozing, iron-infected wounds had been. Many of them had been pacing their cells in intervals, building up their stamina for this one chance.
Those who were still too weak to move were carried.
Tibris had gone over the plan with the prisoners over and over again. And so we opened each cell in the best possible order to ensure the prisoners got up the stairs as efficiently as they could. By now, Tibris knew each of their names. Knew who would be able to help the others. Knew who could use their powers to create a ball of light to guide their group or who could be counted on to use their gifts to keep their carriages safe from guards.
I held tightly to my magic, but blood began to drip from my nose. Already, my body was rebelling. My throat constricted, but I forced myself to keep holding on. Lorian was convinced I could do this, convinced I had much more magic than I’d ever thought. And it was that hope I clung to as I grabbed the arm of a young boy, no more than thirteen winters old, and hauled him up the remaining stairs with me.