cell. If she isn’t there, I want a full manhunt deployed.”
“Sir,” one of the guards gingerly steps forward. “That’s … that’s been done, my lord.”
“What?” Raevald hisses.
“You see, High Regent, sir, when Officer Givanni first came to us with his story, this afternoon, we immediately checked the prisoner’s cell.”
“And what, pray tell, did you find, Captain…” He squints to see the guard’s name. “Dupont?”
“She’s … she’s gone.” Dupont risks a step forward. “We didn’t want to alarm you, my lord … We were confident she couldn’t be far and that we’d have her returned in no time … However … It would seem…” But the good captain doesn’t risk finishing his sentence.
Calmly, the High Regent strides to the window, gazes outside. This sends a chill through the room, and no one, myself included, dares even breathe. Then, without warning, he slams his fist on the table beside him, sending the vase and flowers over onto the floor.
Raevald turns and faces the officer and soldiers again, laying into them. As if knowing what’s sure to come, Givanni cringes.
“How could you let this happen?” the High Regent shouts.
“I’m not certain…,” Givanni backpedals. “It might not have been her…”
“Don’t insult me, officer.” Raevald shakes his head. “It was her. Where exactly was this? When? How many precious hours have passed?” Givanni loosely explains, and I immediately recognize the location isn’t far from Veda’s home. Former home. The High Regent looks to the remaining soldier. “Have the guards search the area.”
“We have, sir,” Dupont says, moving forward and grabbing Givanni by the arm.
“Search. Again,” Raevald says through a clenched jaw. “All. Night.” He pauses for breath. “Do not cease until she’s found.”
Before they leave, Raevald sets his sights on Givanni. “Thank you for your service.” The words are stressed with finality. He then motions for Givanni to be taken away.
Not missing a beat, the High Regent walks back to the sitting area before the hearth, picks his glass back up, and once again settles into his chair.
I follow his lead, but each step, each breath, is equal parts torture and the purest joy I’ve ever known.
I have to calm down.
But my walk is too bouncy.
My shoulders too relaxed.
My smile—
I cannot smile.
Raevald eyes me, takes a long sip from his glass.
I take a short drink from mine, the dark liquid lingering as a tingle on the tip of my tongue, the sour instantly wiping any notion of grinning off my lips.
His stare still scrutinizing, Raevald tips his goblet to mine. “I believe we know exactly who will be Offered for your first ceremony.”
“Sir?” Because I’m honestly not sure to whom he’s referring.
“I apologize … I assumed you were following. It will either be Officer Givanni or the girl when she’s found. Perhaps both.”
That’s when I remember who I’m dealing with.
Who sits across from me.
My stomach turns over, and that joy I felt only moments ago quells.
Because Veda is not safe.
Not until she’s back in the Lower, and right now she could be anywhere. On the run and in danger. Possibly still here in the palace somewhere.
I’ve got to find out.
But I’m stuck playing heir for the moment.
So I tip my glass right back.
Share in his joy over the idea of Offering up two sacrifices. One of them my best friend.
And, I think, maybe I’m beginning to win him over.
Yet … there’s something in his eyes. Something not quite right.
Something that undoubtedly resembles suspicion.
He breathes a deep breath, sets his glass heavily on the side table, and stands. “Salazar will be by your room first thing in the morning to inform you of your tasks and schedule.” Raevald strides to the door. “Good evening, Mr. Denali.”
“Thank you, sir.” I bow my head.
As he leaves, I catch the spot on the back of his head that’s clearly balding, the skin there speckled from years of exposure to the Sun’s cruel rays. He stands tall but walks with the slightest limp. I can’t imagine he doesn’t get lonely. The monotony of living here with all this space closing in on you, only guards and house staff—stiff, smug Salazar—to order around. No one to truly talk with. It’s almost sad.
Almost.
Take him out of the uniform and put him in common clothes, you’d easily mistake him for a kindly grandfather.
But the man’s a monster.
* * *
I’M DAYDREAMING ABOUT VEDA, imagining her safe and sound in the caves of the Lower, surrounded by hundreds of adoring Night members welcoming her home. She smiles. Rightfully.
But the image is cut short when, at