Dylan’s p.o.v.
“What if we storm the castle?” Seth asked.
She shook her head, her arms folded protectively over her chest.
At the same time, her eyes flickered toward the horizon, then back to us. “You can’t storm the castle, no matter how strong or prepared you think you are. Prince Maeral’s home isn’t a castle—it’s a labyrinth. A shifting, living fortress designed to trap its enemies.”
Seth exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “A living fortress? That’s just great. So, you’re saying we can’t get in, and if we did, we wouldn’t get out?”
She nodded grimly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. But…” She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “If you’re determined, there might be a way. Something the prince won’t anticipate.”
Her hesitation grated against my patience, and I leaned forward,
