Althea pulled on her silver cloak, raising the hood to cover her head. She fastened a thin veil across her face, hiding her features. With a steady breath, she closed her eyes and cast an illusion across the bedchamber—on the bed, a perfect image of herself lay sleeping, as if she hadn’t moved at all.
When the spell settled, she opened her eyes and lifted her hand in a slow, precise swirl. A faint shimmer formed in the air, widening into a small portal. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she willed it to obey.
“Take me to where Melva is.”
The portal opened with a soft hum, and Althea stepped quickly through. In the next heartbeat, she found herself inside the cold dungeon. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the sharp scent of iron.
Her eyes darted to Melva, who sat at the corner, her
