I pressed against the rough wood, my skin prickling with anticipation. One week of watching this house had taught me the patterns of those who entered and left. It hadn’t taken long, there were only two. The old Naerithi woman with the broken horn and shuffling gait seemed to arrive and leave at completely random times.

  My hand found the hilt of my short sword, the leather grip warming to my touch. Yesterday, I’d seen Marcelo. Seen him and let him live. When Ross and Lilach told me where he was hiding, I hadn’t asked permission. Joy had nearly died trying to stop him. If I could shield her now, then maybe I could make something right.

  Lilach had argued, wanted to come instead. But after what Marcelo did to Joy... after Ellah vanished... we weren’t risking her too.

  The back door gave beneath my blade. No creak. No warning. I slipped inside, into stale air and a kitchen full of dirty dishes. Someone lived here. Someone who expected to return.

  Room by room, I searched. Clutter, crumbs, a fire still warm. But no people.

  Ahead, stairs rose upward. Behind me, they descended into darkness. I pulled a silver coin from my pouch, the weight a comforting habit, and flipped it high.

  The glint of metal froze mid-air as I saw the figure at the top of the stairs.

  Small. Still. Crimson-skinned. Her head tilted in curious assessment.

  The coin hit the floor and rolled beneath a table, forgotten.

  “Princess Ellah?”

  She descended slowly, the soft creak of the steps loud in the silence. She didn’t look damaged. Dark leather breeches. Simple cotton shirt. Practical. Unafraid.

  I sheathed my blade. “Forgive me, Princess. We feared the worst.”

  Her eyes scanned past me, then returned with sharp focus. “Who are you? How did you find this place?”

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  “My name is Corsa. I came to bring you home. And to avenge my sister.”

  Her expression shifted. Not surprised. Not relieved. Just... evaluating.

  “Is it not customary to kneel before your Royals?”

  I dropped to my knee, lowering my head. “Yes, Princess.”

  A flicker of movement caught my eye, but too late. Something struck the back of my skull—hard. I hit the ground, ears ringing. The world reeled, the floor cold against my cheek. My body sagged, limp by training, buying time to think.

  Boots scraped the floor behind me.

  “Ugh, I thought you wouldn’t make it back in time,” Ellah’s voice said. “Any longer and I was going to have to go with him.”

  The words didn’t make sense. Not until the old woman stepped into view. Her hood fell back, the air rippling like heat off stone—

  Marcelo stood in her place.

  My gut lurched. Pain dulled beneath disbelief.

  "That little skink has been sneaking around all week. I didn't think he'd have the guts to come in and confront us directly."

  "Do we know him?" Ellah asked, stepping down the last few stairs.

  "He's guarding the Senator's estate, where Joy's been staying."

  "You really need to get over that obsession." Ellah walked past me, her boot inches from my face. She stopped. "He said he was here to avenge his sister. You don't think he's Joy's brother?"

  Marcelo's eyes lit with sudden interest. "Can I have him to play with, Mistress?"

  Mistress.

  The word landed like a second blow.

  “Do whatever you like,” Ellah said. “Just clean up the mess after.”

  Marcelo unclipped his cape and fastened it around her shoulders. The moment the clasp clicked, her form shimmered. Where Ellah had stood, the hunched Naerithi crone reappeared—broken horn, crooked spine, the perfect disguise.

  “Just don’t forget what we’re really here for,” the crone said, her voice a quavering rasp layered over malevolence.

  I clenched my teeth against the pain.

  Joy had nearly died trying to save Ellah. Had bled and screamed and carved her way through Marcelo’s hell. And it was all for nothing.

  Ellah had never been missing. She’d been with him.

  Rough hands seized my arms and dragged me across the floor. The pain in my skull pulsed with every heartbeat. I fought to stay conscious, to remember every detail of this betrayal.

  Joy. I have to warn Joy.

  The edges of my vision went black. The last thing I saw was Marcelo’s smile.