Or to the news that I’d stabbed a god in the chest with it.

I didn’t think Sir Holland would react all that calmly.

Looking back, I could understand why the god had destroyed the dagger. I had stabbed him. But I was still furious. It was over a century old, and if I had any hope of fulfilling my duty—if I were ever given a chance—I needed a shadowstone blade.

I also tried not to think about what I had seen—what had happened to Andreia. The image of her sitting up and launching herself to her feet like some sort of wild animal had lived in my head, rent-free all night long. I had no idea what could’ve been done to her, but I hoped the god figured it out.

Something beautiful and powerful.

His words still caught me off guard. But in my defense, he had called me a name that meant something beautiful and powerful, even after I’d stabbed him. That seemed even more unexplainable than whatever had happened to the seamstress.

Liessa. I couldn’t believe I asked that instead of a hundred other more important questions. Starting with asking what his name was.

 “Now,” Sir Holland ordered.

Spinning, I threw the blade, exhaling at the sound of the smack it made striking the dummy’s chest. This went on for a godsforsaken amount of time until I could no longer not speak about what I had seen the day before.

After throwing the blade, I tugged down the blindfold. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replied, starting toward the dummy.

“Have you ever heard of a…?” It took me a moment to figure out how to ask what I wanted without giving too much away. “A dead person coming back to life?”

Sir Holland stopped and turned around. “That…that was not the kind of question I was expecting.”

“I know.” I toyed with the hem of my airy cotton shirt.

He frowned. “What would make you even ask something like that?”

I forced a shrug. “I just heard someone talking about it when I was out. They claimed to have seen someone come back to life with fangs like a god but…different. They had fangs on the upper and lower teeth.”

His brows lifted. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. If whoever said that was speaking the truth, then it sounds like an…abomination.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

He studied me. “Where did you hear this?”

Before I could come up with a believable lie, a knock sounded on the tower door. Sir Holland retrieved the blade from the dummy. He looked over his shoulder at me as he walked toward the door. I shrugged. “Who is it?” he called, slipping the blade behind his back.

“It’s me,” came a hushed voice. “Ezra. I’m looking for Sera.” There was a pause while Sir Holland rested his forehead against the door. “I know she’s in there. And I know that you know that I know she’s in there.”

A grin tugged at my lips, but it faded quickly. There was only one reason I could think of that would’ve drawn Ezra to the tower to find me. My gaze drifted briefly to the many stab wounds that punctured the dummy’s chest, and I thought of all the harmful things I’d done in the last three years.

Sir Holland shot me a scowl. “You never should’ve told her where you train.” He sliced the blade through the air. “She could’ve been followed here.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” I said, wondering who in the castle didn’t already suspect who I was and could’ve followed her.

“Truly?” Sir Holland demanded.

“Just so you know, I can hear you,” Ezra’s muffled voice came through the door. “And Sera speaks the truth. I simply stalked her through the castle one morning. And since I’m not unobservant, I figured out that this is where she spends a decent part of her days.”

“Like you didn’t know you were being followed,” he muttered.

I lifted a shoulder. Of course, I knew she had been following me, but since Ezra had remained kind towards me after I failed, I really hadn’t attempted to throw her off my trail. And it wasn’t like she didn’t know I trained. Sir Holland was just being dramatic.

“I haven’t been followed,” Ezra announced from the other side of the door. “But I can only imagine that the longer I stand here talking to a door, the more attention I will draw.”

“Let her in, please,” I said. “She would only come here if she had to.”

“As if I have a choice.” He threw the lock and opened the door.

Princess Ezmeria stood at the top of the narrow stairwell, her light brown hair swept back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Even though it was sweltering in the tower and most likely no better outside, she wore a black, pinstriped short waistcoat over an ivory and cream gown made of the same lightweight cotton. Ezra always seemed immune to the heat and humidity.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she nodded at an exasperated Sir Holland. Her features were similar to Tavius’s, but her brown eyes held a keen sharpness, and her jaw had a stubborn hardness that Tavius lacked. “It is good to see you, Sir Holland.”

Sir Holland pinned her with a look of utter impassivity. “It is good to see you, Your Grace.”

“What do you need?” I asked as I took the iron blade from Sir Holland, sheathing it.

“Many things,” she replied. “One of those chocolate scones Orlano makes when he’s in a good mood would be lovely. Along with cooled tea. A good book that isn’t misery fiction, which begs the question—why do the curators of the city Atheneum think any of us wants to read things that only depress us?” she asked, rocking back on her heeled slippers as Sir Holland rubbed at his brow. “I’m also in need of an end to this drought—oh, and peace among the kingdoms.” Ezra smiled widely as she slid an amused glance at Sir Holland. “But right now, the Ladies of Mercy and I are in need of your assistance, Sera.”

Sir Holland lowered his hand, frowning as he looked at me. “What would the Ladies at the orphanage need from you?”

“Her ability to borrow excess food from the kitchens without anyone noticing,” Ezra answered smoothly. “With the influx of recently parentless children, their cupboards are rather bare.”

I stiffened just a fraction. Suspicion clouded Sir Holland’s features. My ability to do just as Ezra claimed had come in handy quite frequently. I often took whatever leftover food I could scrounge from the kitchens to the Cliffs of Sorrow, where the old fortress had been converted into the largest orphanage in Carsodonia. Still, even as big as it was, the orphanage hemorrhaged with those orphaned by death or abandoned by parents who could not or would no longer care for them. But Ezra had never once come to me for that. I turned to him. “I will see you tomorrow morning?”

His eyes had narrowed, but he nodded. I didn’t linger to give him time to start asking questions.

“Have a good day, Sir Holland,” Ezra said as she stepped aside, allowing me to exit the tower.

Dust danced in the streaks of sunlight seeping through the arrow slits in the walls of the tower as we made our way down to the third floor, where my bedchambers were located among the row of empty chambers. We didn’t speak until we stepped into the narrow hall. Ezra turned to me, keeping her voice low, even though it was unlikely that anyone was around to overhear us. “You should probably change your clothing.” Her gaze flickered over the loose tunic I wore. “Something a little more…suitable for where we must travel.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Exactly what am I assisting you with?”

“Well…” Ezra dipped her chin toward mine, standing close but not close enough to touch me. I pretended not to notice how she made sure her skin didn’t come into contact with mine. “I received a letter from Lady Sunders regarding a child—a young girl named Ellie—that just came under her guardianship, courtesy of one of the Mistresses of the Jade.”

I frowned in surprise. “What was a young girl doing with the Mistresses?” The only reason Jade had even been willing to discuss the things involved in the act of seduction with me was because she believed I was far older than sixteen. Even then, with the veil obscuring my features, I saw that she had been suspicious, even though others were married at that age. “That is not like them—”