increasing checks on the Godkiller to three times a day.”
She shivered as his gaze swept over her . . . and coasted past. He had hardly looked at her since she arrived, his normally wicked half-smile replaced by a distant stoicism she couldn’t pierce. His moods had been growing darker, and the only time she felt like she could truly reach him was that single hour in his bedroom when they released her familiar.
Ravius—perched on the Shade Lord’s shoulder—seemed to sense the shift in his mood as well, and his black feathers ruffled anxiously.
Xandrian frowned down at the wine in his glass. “Is that really necessary? There are thousands of wards leading down into that hellhole. Even if the Godkiller managed to disarm some of them in the lower vaults, surely it couldn’t inactivate them all in half a day?”
Stolas arched an ashen brow. “In twelve hours, the Godkiller managed to make it nearly a third of the way through the lower vault’s defenses on its first try. It was testing them. Learning their pattern. Each time it will work a little quicker. So, yes, I would say it’s necessary. But I can take your shift if you’re too busy?”
Xandrian slid his wine glass away, untouched. She’d noticed he hardly ever actually drank the wine, just toyed with it, going through the motions of drinking, almost like a prop.
“And let you lord that over me?” Xandrian asked. “No thanks.”
Delphine flashed a series of signs to Stolas, and Bane’s mouth fell open in silent laughter.
“What are the twins going on about?” Xandrian asked drolly.
Stolas grinned. “Oh, they were commenting on the pleasant evening.”
A snort worked its way up her throat, and she swallowed it down. That was absolutely not what they said.
Bell leaned back in his chair, the wind ruffling his dark curls. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but the wards in the vaults below Starpiercer Castle are a unique combination of dark and light runes. For the Godkiller to counteract them so quickly, it would need access to the original creator’s runebook.”
“Very good.” Stolas tented his hands beneath his sharp chin. “Every ward is really just a complex tapestry of runes. To maintain a ward over centuries, you need a map to know what goes where. Any good ward weaver will encrypt the map, but such encryptions can be broken.”
“And where is the ward map for the vaults?” Surai asked. She was to Haven’s right, her glossy black hair recently cut to her jawline.
“Not here. I checked the day we arrived.” The muscles of his temples flickered beneath his pale skin. “All the ward maps—including the maps for the tower wards—were looted along with half our family’s heirlooms.”
“By whom?” Ember demanded, her brown eyes—a deep umber against the dark green of her tattooed band—burning with fury.
Haven imagined her family had countless troves of treasure passed down for generations. To lose even one piece would be devastating.
“Does anyone even have to ask?” Nasira murmured. “The Court of Nine didn’t just invade our land and claim our ancestral home as theirs. They pillaged everything. Jewels that had been passed down for generations. Musical instruments once played by the Gods. Pearl-inlaid boxes that once housed a feather from every child born to our royal line.”
The bitterness in her voice sent a rush of unease sweeping through Haven, and she imagined the mortal lords rifling through Stolas’s family’s belongings. Ancient, beloved items that deserved reverence and respect, not being appraised, picked apart, and then hawked for money.
“Luckily,” Stolas continued, his face expressionless, “the mortals never did learn to grow wings, so the heirlooms in the highest towers still remain.”
Bell’s jaw was taut as he shook his head, disgust evident on his face. “They shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, they really shouldn’t have. But what’s done is done. The question remains, who has the map now and how are they feeding that information to the Godkiller?”
The food she was chewing suddenly became unappetizing. She choked it down and cleared her throat. “I think I know how. Or, at least, a piece to the puzzle.”
The entire table’s attention settled on her.
“When I held the dagger the first time, the Shadeling . . . he spoke to me.”
Bell dropped his fork with a loud clang. Surai gasped, and Ember threw a hand over her mouth as everyone waited in stunned silence. The only person who didn’t seem surprised was Stolas.
“It hasn’t happened since, although the weapon can also speak, but that’s another story.”
Surai’s dark eyebrows flicked up, and