Something rapped on the window.
Anna paused with a hand full of laces. Her worn leather boot — propped up on the bed — seemed to glare at her accusingly in the dim light. Several knives lay on the bedsheets, glittering like diamonds in the moonlight. She picked one up, her heart rate accelerating as she turned to the window.
The rapping came again.
Anna crept towards the window. She could see shadowed woods in the distance, as well as the stone stables. The moon was a yellow pustule in the sky. There was a tree, she noted, just outside the inn; the perfect height for someone to climb.
She held her breath.
Thrust open the window.
A shadow soared into the room. Anna reared back, her knife poised to strike. The raven settled on the back of a chair, eyeing her contemptuously as it shook out its damp feathers. She blew out a breath.
"Burning stars." Anna lowered her knife. "You scared the shit out of me."
The raven extended its leg. A letter dangled from the end of it, the parchment crinkled and waterworn. She pointed.
"That's for me?"
The raven gave her an indignant look that said "take-the-letter-you-simpleton," extending its foot further. Which, you know. Fair enough. Anna untied the letter; the parchment unfurled to reveal a name at the bottom of the page.
Flint.
Her heart sunk. Of course Kane was writing to her; Seraena was hosting a ball to select her new husband. Kane was probably preparing to hop on his dragon and raze the whole world to the ground. If he hadn't already, that was.
Anna looked up. "Thank you. That must have been one hell of a journey." She held out a cracker. "Do you want a snack?"
The raven nibbled at the cracker. Anna set down the letter, and the bird nipped at her wrist, cawing. She frowned.
"Well, I can't read it now," Anna said. "I'm busy. Invading castles, and all that."
She finished lacing her boots. A quick glance at the grandfather clock told her that she was already late. She was mostly ready — hair plaited, black gear on, her Cidarius family knife strapped to her hip — but her bloody corset was giving her trouble. She cursed as she twisted, fumbling uselessly with the clasps.
The raven cawed. The bird used its beak to nudge the letter towards her, and Anna sighed. "I'll read it later. Promise."
There was a knock at the door.
Ryne strode into the room. He was dressed in armour and a fur travelling cloak; a broadsword glittered across his back. "Ah. I thought I heard voices." His green eyes glittered. "Talking to yourself again, Cidarius?"
"Naturally," Anna said. "I have the most fascinating insights."
"Ah," Ryne said. "You have a visitor."
His eyes were on the raven, who glared at him. Ryne crossed his arms.
"Your pet doesn't like me," he said.
Anna rolled her eyes. "Most people don't like you." She spun. "Be useful and lace me up." Ryne's fingers ghosted over her neck, brushing her plait aside, and she closed her eyes. "You could start by not calling him a pet."
Ryne's breath was hot in her ear. "What?"
"The raven."
Warm fingers slipped down her back. "I thought your father was the Raven King."
Anna shivered. "The ravens work in partnership with my family. Not for us. Sophie says that my parents viewed the whole castle that way. There were hierarchies, sure, but nobody was more important than anyone else." She touched the handle of her blade. "My father died saving his valet."
Ryne's fingers stilled. "I didn't know that."
"No," Anna murmured. "You wouldn't have."
She gripped the blade harder. They were entering dangerous territory, Anna thought; even more dangerous because they'd never chartered it before. Ryne swallowed, and she could feel the muscles in his throat move.
"He sounds kind," Ryne said. "Your father, I mean."
She turned. "You've always viewed kindness as a weakness."
"Not always." Ryne paused, his lashes lowered. "I'm sorry. For what my father did."
Anna's heart lurched sideways. The words hung between them, hardening like old sap. Ryne's green eyes seemed to melt in the candlelight, and she could feel the heat of them burning through her skin.
Ryne exhaled. "My father used to tell us horrible stories about nightweavers. He'd do these shadow puppets on the wall. Nightweavers pillaging villages, snatching children, enchanting husbands to attack their own wives... I never thought..." His mouth tightened. "When I met you, you changed everything for me. I should have apologized sooner."
A lump rose in her throat. "Why now?"
Ryne held her gaze. "You know why."
Candlelight flickered across his face. Outside, a horse whinnied, although neither of them looked away. Anna raised a hand; Ryne closed his eyes as she traced the shape of his mouth. His ragged breathing filled the room. The lump in her throat grew thicker.
She wanted to kiss him. Wanted it so godsdamn badly that her chest ached. But she couldn't, Anna thought, her thumb skimming his jaw. Firstly, because things were too messy between them. But secondly, because it would feel like a goodbye.
Tonight wasn't their last night together.
It couldn't be.
Anna dropped her hand. Ryne opened his eyes, assessing her face, and he must have understood because he nodded.
"We should go," Ryne said, turning for the door. "The others are waiting."
**
They rode to Helos Castle in silence.
Dark trees observed them with curious eyes, occasionally reaching down to brush their shoulders with spindly fingers. The wind tore at their cloaks with sharp teeth. The journey didn't take long — twenty-seven minutes, according to Ryne, who'd worked it out ahead of time — but by the time they arrived, Anna's fingers were frozen. She dismounted from her horse, flexing her stiff gloves.
Isaac jumped down next. He turned to offer a hand to Camille, who took it, sliding gracefully from her horse. Penny came next; she cursed as her feet hit the frost-bitten underbrush, hopping up and down. Grayson raised her hands and blew hot air into them.
Only Ryne remained seated. He was squinting past the dark spires of Helos Castle, his brow slightly furrowed. And then Anna saw it: two quick flashes of light up on the hill, followed by a longer one.
General Dartmouth and his men were here, too.
Ryne turned. "Everyone's in position?"
"They're here," Penny confirmed. "I can feel them." She closed her eyes. "Dartmouth and his men are there." She pointed in the direction of the lights. "The villagers are over there." More pointing.
Grayson raised an eyebrow. "How many of them came?"
"Twenty?" Penny wrinkled her nose. "Maybe fewer. It's hard to tell."
"Doesn't matter now," Ryne murmured, sliding down from his horse. "We have what we have. Does everyone remember the plan?"
A sea of nodding. Anna shifted, feeling the clink of throwing stars. She'd stuffed a few into her left boot at the last minute, just in case. Putting a sword through Eris's heart would be preferable, but she'd take shredding his face, too.
The words on her back seemed to burn in the frozen air. Vos es nuqum. I am nothing. She could remember Eris searing them into her back with sickening clarity, the agonizing blistering of her skin. Grim anticipation filled her.
Maybe she'd carve words into Eris. See how he liked it.
"I don't like this," Isaac muttered.
He was gripping his horse's reins, staring up at the guards lining the castle walls. The moonlight made his grey eyes look eerily translucent.
"We should go back," Isaac said.
Anna looked at Ryne, who shook his head. Ignore him. Which was fair enough, Anna thought; Isaac had been spouting some weird shit over the last twenty-four hours. If he made one more comment about "reassessing the plan," she'd stab him with a fork.
"Did you hear me?" Isaac raised his voice. "We should—"
"Webb?" Ryne's voice was curt.
"What?"
"Stop talking," Ryne said.
Isaac closed his mouth. Approximately four seconds later, he opened it again.
"Do you see those guards?" Isaac demanded. "There are six of us. And like, three hundred of them. Even with magic, we're screwed."
Ryne's mouth thinned. "We have the element of surprise."
"It's too dangerous." Isaac shook his head. "Let's turn back. Wait for more reinforcements."
A muscle ticked in Ryne's jaw: a warning sign. "There are no more reinforcements."
"Ryne," Isaac said. "Please."
His voice cracked. Ryne stared at Isaac as if he'd sprouted a third arm. "What is with you?"
Isaac looked away. "Nothing."
"You're acting weird," Ryne said, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm fine." Isaac crossed his arms. "I just think we should wait."
Ryne shook his head. "We're going in. That's my final decision. You don't have to come if you don't want to." He drew his sword, turning to his younger sister. "Penny? You remember what to do?"
She nodded, bouncing up and down. "Wait until I feel a gap in the guards. We'll signal to the others and invade from this side. After that—"
"Actually," Camille said, "I know a better way into the castle."
Her voice was calm. She was standing with her hands in a fur muff, and looking entirely too calm, Anna felt, for someone that had just dropped a Tristan-level explosive into the middle of the group.
"What?" Grayson demanded.
Camille pursed her lips. "Dartmouth told me there's a secret tunnel that runs beneath the castle. Nobody else knows about it. Not even Eris."
Grayson stared. "And you're just bringing this up now?"
"You don't trust us," Penny said.
There was hurt in her voice. She was staring at Camille the way that a child might look at a trusted pet cat that had just bitten them. Ryne made as if to interject, and Penny crossed her arms. "Well, she doesn't," Penny said. "I can feel it."
Camille's face was impassive. "Dartmouth asked me to keep it a secret."
"Who else knows?" Ryne asked. "About the tunnel?"
Anna could see the cogs in his brain turning. He was examining the situation like a chessboard, moving knights and rooks and pawns. This was his favourite part of strategy: being presented with a challenge.
Camille burrowed her hands deeper into the fur muff. "Just Dartmouth." Her gaze flicked sideways. "And Isaac. I told him a few days ago."
"Good," Ryne said firmly. "I'm glad you didn't tell us." Penny began to protest, and he raised a hand. "The fewer people that knew about a plan, the better. Good work, Cami. You've done well."
He sounded oddly proud. Then again, Anna reflected, it made sense; If Ryne's daughter was clever enough to lock him out of castle one day, he would give the child a lollipop. And then a pat on the head.
"We shouldn't use the tunnel," Isaac said.
Ryne cast his eyes skyward. "Not this again."
"Think about it." Isaac spread his palms out. "We don't know the layout, the routes, how many men it can accommodate... It's too risky."
"George knows the tunnel," Camille said, frowning. "He's used it several times before."
"George," Isaac said tightly, "might be leading us into a trap."
Ryne tapped his chin. "Worth considering. But unlikely."
More lights flashed in the distance. One short, followed by two long. Coast is clear. We're moving. Anna palmed her knife, her fingers warm on the blade. It was too late, anyway; if what Camille said was true, then Dartmouth and his men would already be heading for the tunnel. They had no choice but to follow.
Ryne took a step forward. Isaac seized his arm.
"Ryne, listen to me." His voice was desperate. "If Eris ambushes us, his guards can block both sides of the tunnel. We'll be sitting ducks. It'll be a slaughter."
Ryne's gaze was steady. "That would be a problem if Eris knew about the tunnel. But nobody knows about it, do they?"
A beat passed. Isaac dropped his hand.
"No." His voice was gruff. "I suppose not."
"Good." Ryne started forwards. "Let's move."
They fell into step behind Camille. Anna scanned the parapets as they moved, searching for a flash of silver. But, no; everything was dark. She stooped as they passed over the bridge, her heart pounding in her chest.
How long did Ryne say they had between the guards changing shifts? A minute? Slightly more? She'd memorized all the numbers, but they'd fallen away now. Everything was the sharpness of battle. Listening for the shifting of chainmail, or the snap of a stick underfoot.
"Here," Camille said softly.
She turned at the end of the bridge, leading them down a slope. A knot of men waited beneath the bridge. A young man with dark, messy hair stepped forward; he was dressed in the most expensive-looking clothing, and a sapphire Vespertine broach glittered on his cloak. General Dartmouth.
"Orl—" The young man caught himself. "Camille. You made it."
She stripped off her cloak. "Any problems?"
"None." Dartmouth's gaze slid past her to Anna, and his expression turned cold. "You must be Annalise Cidarius."
She smiled pleasantly. "And you must be the asshole that killed my family."
Dartmouth gave her a look that could have set water on fire. Ryne moved closer.
"Play nice," Ryne murmured.
Anna raised an eyebrow. "I always do." She shouldered past Dartmouth, hitting him with enough force to hurt. "Move."
She examined the wooden door. A rusted iron padlock dangled from the door, along with a series of complicated-looking deadlocks. All of which, Anna noted, looked at least several centuries old. The Vespertines had seriously needed to up their security.
Dartmouth frowned, rubbing at his shoulder. "My men and I will go first."
Anna rolled her eyes. "Over my dead body."
His grin was feral. "That can be arranged."
"Charming," Anna said dryly. "No offense, but I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." She took a large step back. "I'll go first."
Dartmouth snorted. "You don't even know the combination. How are you going to—?"
Anna kicked down the door. A cloud of dust flew up, forcing several men to cough. She raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, look," Anna said sweetly. "It's open." She turned. "Webb? Care to do the honours?"
It was a rhetorical question. She'd sling Isaac over her back and carry him into that tunnel kicking and screaming, if she had to. Isaac swallowed. He looked anxious as hell. But at least Dartmouth seemed put out, Anna observed brightly; that was nice.
Isaac stepped into the tunnel. Dust rained down from the ceiling, coating the stone floor. The tunnel was hardly big enough for two people to stand side-by-side, and Isaac had to duck to avoid smacking his head on the ceiling.
But it was empty.
So that was something, at least.
"You see?" Anna breezed past, raising a flickering candle. "Everything's fine."
Isaac's throat bobbed. "Yeah."
But he didn't look reassured.