bit down a chirp of surprise when a short arch appeared in the stone, so low she would have to squirm through on her belly. But it showed the villa’s courtyard beyond, with Petros’s soldiers and servants moving about, unaware.
Tor dropped to the ground and wriggled through first. When his feet disappeared into the hole, Ash flattened, using her elbows to work her way across the ground. Only when her body was half under the arch did she realize she was entirely dependent on Elias being able to hold this open if one of Petros’s guards tried to close it over her.
She scrambled on and heaved herself through the other side. Tor was waiting in the shadows, his eyes glinting in the moonlight as he took in the villa’s layout.
The main house was a grand structure of marble columns and silver lit by a few torches, a single firepit in the front courtyard, and the full white moon overhead. A few plain stone structures with shuttered windows sat around it—the stables and outbuildings. Two guards moved toward what was probably a barracks while a servant carried a basket loaded with laundry toward the backyard. Nearby, a small cluster of citrus trees made the air acidic with mingled orange and lemon oils. Some of them had gone rancid, and the stench tickled Ash’s nose.
“You take the main house,” Tor whispered. “I’ll take the outbuildings. Look for Cassia and Madoc, and keep an eye out for anything that could lead us to Petros’s true plan. Letters, documents, maps. But at the first sign of trouble, you run, Ash.” He flipped his eyes to her, imploring. “You get yourself out, no matter what.”
Ash nodded stiffly. She was operating on momentum and thoughtless action—if she paused too long, doubt and worries would obliterate her.
She didn’t give Tor another chance to speak. She took off, ducking in and out of shadows as she made her way to the main house.
Ash yanked igneia from torches along her way, giving her more shadows to move through and building her strength. By the time she reached the house, her pulse was a hum.
She slipped along the wall until it ended in the open-air columns of a veranda. A hall stretched to her left, and a tall, narrow staircase lifted to the right; she headed for the stairs, ears straining for any shuffling servants or the clank of centurion armor.
The chill of the marble flooring penetrated Ash’s sandals. A shudder rippled between her shoulder blades and she pulled free her remaining knife. Moonlight cut through windows and spilled over the white tiles, but that was the only light—no torches, no flames, not even any of those phosphorescent rocks. The igneia Ash had stored in her chest felt flimsy suddenly, a dying flame choking for oxygen.
She forced herself on, edging step by step onto the second floor landing. One side had balconies every few paces that showed a courtyard below; the other had three doors. Farther on, another staircase led back to the first floor.
If Cassia or Madoc were in this house, Petros would keep them close so they wouldn’t be tempted to run. If one of these rooms was his, then the others might be theirs too.
Sweat slicked Ash’s palms. She took a step forward, crossing the empty hall, her shadow playing on the ornate ivory walls.
She headed for the door on the right. No—the middle one. No, definitely not the middle one—that door was overlaid with a scene of wailing figures beseeching Geoxus alongside . . . was that Petros? The moonlight blurred the image.
Ash backed away from that door, her hackles rising.
She grabbed the knob on the leftmost door and twisted.
It didn’t budge. Locked.
Breath a painful knot in her throat, Ash closed her eyes. This could mean death. This could mean a senseless end.
“Cassia?” she whispered into the doorframe. “Madoc? Are you there?”
Silence. Ash held her breath.
“Who are you?” a high voice whispered from the other side.
Ash choked on her relief. “Cassia! It’s—it’s Ash. You brought me records in the preparation chamber the other day.”
“Why are you here?” A pause. “And why did you ask for Madoc too?”
“Is he with you?”
“No—did Petros get him too?” Panic rose in Cassia’s voice. “What’s going on?”
Ash started to shake, but she couldn’t lose herself to questions now. She pushed on the door. “The door is stone—can you manipulate it?”
“If I could, I would’ve gotten out of here a long time ago. Petros had this whole room lined with wood. Listen,