“Stop wasting time,” I whispered, and started to turn away, but he caught my arm.
When I looked back at him, there was no more teasing in his face. No false confidence. His hand reached out to brush the angle of my chin, so briefly I didn’t even have time to react to the touch.
“Careful, princess,” he murmured. “Alright?”
I held that stare for a moment longer than I meant to.
“You too,” I said. “Be careful.”
And with that, we each slipped into our own shadows.
48
ORAYA
The hallways nearest to my room were the riskiest. I avoided the path I had taken the day that I’d escaped down to Vincent’s office, but I was still very aware that Septimus had known about those tunnels. Though the path I was on now didn’t directly connect to the one I had taken then, I couldn’t be sure how much else he had discovered. By the time I reached the top level of the castle, I was moving very slowly, barely breathing, listening for any guards while simultaneously being silent as a ghost.
I didn’t hear much activity out there, unlike on the lower floors. The only thing in this wing was my room and Raihn’s, neither of which were the actual king’s quarters. Simon and Septimus had managed to launch their coup successfully by catching Raihn off-guard, but that didn’t mean they had any more manpower than he did. They’d have to use their forces sparingly, focused where they were most needed.
I had to hope that neither Simon nor Septimus thought they were needed up here.
I waited at the passageway to the main hall for several long seconds, ear to the door, before moving. When I heard nothing, I slipped through, sword in hand, promptly closing the passageway behind me.
The hall was empty. Silently, quickly, I moved along the wall, rounding one corner and then another until I came to our hallway.
Emptiness would have been too easy.
Two guards waited for me.
Both of them, thankfully, were Rishan, not Bloodborn—no blood magic to deal with. They recognized me right away, but I didn’t give them time to react before I lunged for them.
Two of them. Once, that would have been intimidating. Now, it was a relief. Only two? I could handle two.
As if awakened by the promise of imminent bloodshed, the Taker of Hearts warmed in my hands, the red glow of the blade flaring.
I thought about Mische, as the two men started for me.
I thought about the way their chosen master had abused Raihn, and the marks he had left long after the ones on his body had faded.
And suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to call upon my magic, the cold white of Nightfire mingling with the hot bloom of Vincent’s sword.
The last time I’d used it, I’d barely gotten to appreciate what an incredible weapon it was. This time, when the blade plunged through the first soldier’s chest, barely meeting resistance, burns of searing white spreading across his chest, I had to admire it.
It had never before been quite so easy to kill.
The second man staggered back in shock when he saw how quickly his companion fell. But to his credit, he wasn’t a coward. After a momentary stagger, he was coming at me again, sword drawn.
That half-second pause, though—that was enough.
I stepped aside, using his own momentum to throw him against the wall. It was awkward to use the sword when I was so accustomed to using my dual blades. I had to force my body to fight in a completely different way, mimicking Vincent’s steps instead of leaning on my own. In that moment of hesitation, he opened a slash across my cheek that left me hissing in pain.
I could so perfectly envision how Vincent would have countered. I’d witnessed it many times.
My execution wasn’t perfect, but it got the job done.
When I pulled back, my breath heavy, the Rishan was slumped against the wall, the Taker of Hearts skewered through his chest.
I withdrew it, not bothering to wipe the blade. Not that I had to—it was as if the weapon absorbed it, as hungry for bloodshed as I was. My Nightfire simmered. Already, I was thinking about wherever Raihn was right now—thinking far too vividly about him being overtaken in the dungeons, surrounded by soldiers, getting strung up again the way he had during the ball— I went to my door and tried the knob.
Locked. Of fucking course.
I knelt, examining the locks. All four required keys.
Could I… melt them, the way I had the day I escaped? Or…
I glanced down at my sword, coated with the beading remnants of blood. It seemed ridiculous to try to stab a lock into submission. Then again, if any weapon could do it…
My gaze fell to the blood on the blade.