The palace halls felt long. Too long, actually. Like they’d stretched overnight, and every step only made them… longer. Every flicker of torchlight snagged at the edge of my eye—looked like a knife about to cut. And the echoes, they were, well, they were like footsteps. Not ours. Someone else’s.
Wren walked next to me, close enough her sleeve brushed mine sometimes. Her hand kept drifting down, tapping the dagger hidden under her cloak. She hummed under her breath—soft and sort of mocking. Like she wanted the silence to get annoyed and answer back.
Gideon didn’t hum, didn’t even blink too much. He just kept scanning, shadows, doors, corners—everywhere. Like he was sure the masked figure was gonna step out right there, right now.
The paper burned against my wrist where I’d tucked it, he
