out in front of him, blood still drying on the pages, he couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he still wasn’t understanding.
What would they do to the kingdom when they started this coup? Tranavia was his kingdom. His land of swamps and lakes and mountains and marshlands. Of blood magic and monsters. A kingdom with two kings. He didn’t want to see it swallowed in the fires of war, and he didn’t want to see it starve to death, either. Both were dangerously close on the horizon. But he also didn’t want to die.
His father had come to dinner, seeming almost giddy about something. Serefin tried not to have misgivings—this was all part of the plan—but he was worried. If his father was to be believed, Malachiasz was the one pulling the strings. Even if the Black Vulture had admitted his fault, did that mean he wasn’t going to hand the king exactly what he was looking for?
But it didn’t matter. They were out of time. At dinner the king had mentioned that the Kalyazi forces had moved, that an attack was imminent. He’d seemed … overjoyed at the prospect, and that terrified Serefin the most. All he could cling to was the desperate hope he could save himself in the end.
A knock at the door startled him. Likely Ostyia or Kacper—he hadn’t seen either that evening.
?aneta looked washed out when he opened the door. She shot him a weak smile. Before he had a chance to greet her she reached out, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and kissed him.
He stiffened in surprise, but soon relaxed into the kiss. His hands clasped ?aneta’s waist and her fingers slid into his hair.
“What is this?” he asked, breathless when she broke away. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw. She didn’t answer. He lifted his head, searching her face. He felt a chill cut through him as he took in her bleak expression.
“?aneta?”
She shook her head, forcing a smile. There were tears in her dark eyes. He gently cupped her face in his hand.
“Can you come with me?” she asked. She blinked hard and the tears were gone, the discomfort gone with them. She looked as poised as ever. “Sorry, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have—”
“?aneta…”
She shot him a bright smile, no longer strained. “I’m fine, Serefin.”
He hesitated before gently kissing her again. When he broke away, she reached up, combing his hair with her fingers.
“It will only take a minute,” she said. She held her hand out.
He took it.
“Have you seen Kacper or Ostyia?” he asked.
“I’m surprised neither of them were with you. I haven’t seen them today.”
He frowned. It wasn’t like them to disappear. A heavy feeling began coiling inside him that felt suspiciously like dread. He had dismissed it before—?aneta was the only person at court he trusted—but as he followed her down the dark halls of the palace he couldn’t deny this was going to end badly.
He tried to think, to pull his hand from ?aneta’s grip, but found his head suddenly fuzzy and his fingers slack. ?aneta went from leading him to dragging him down the hall.
Foreboding crept up his spine like cold fingers as they walked. Past the dungeons, in the back wing of the palace, far below ground, where any magic research the king was doing took place. Research not ordained by the Vultures.
There was blood trailing out from underneath ?aneta’s sleeve and sliding over her fingers. She glanced back at him, wiping the blood off on her dark skirts, and cleaned off her mouth with the back of her hand, a smear of blood coming away on her fingers.
His brow furrowed; he hadn’t tasted blood when he’d kissed her. The realization came slowly, his thoughts searching through a murky fog.
It was a spell. She put magic on her lips and now he was trailing helplessly behind her even though he knew he should flee. The only one he thought was on his side, and she had sold him away like all the rest.
They reached the entrance to the catacombs. The doors intricately locked and guarded on both sides. Serefin felt the jaws of his fate close in around him as he stepped into the dark.
?aneta stopped. She turned back. The dark was choking and thick. Panic constricted his chest, making it feel as if no air was reaching his lungs. He felt her hand on his face, her touch light.
“I’m sorry, Serefin,” she whispered. She kissed his cheek.
“What could he give