There’s a word for what I’m feeling. This gnawing ache burrowing into all my soft places. A word I can’t tell her, or I’ll never let her go.

I can only watch as she leans up to brush her lips over mine. The contact is feather-light and devastating, a goodbye and an apology. A feedback loop of hunger ricocheting between us.

I taste salt. Smoke. Sorrow. The drum of a shared heartbeat, frantic and stuttering. It feels like flying and plummeting. Like losing solid ground. She presses her forehead to mine, our noses brushing—fighting for air, for equilibrium.

“You told me once that you would crave me in any lifetime, across every eternity. And I wanted to tell you… I’d find you in all of them. At the end of everything, when the stars winked out one by one. In the dark and the cold and the nothing. So I’ll wait for you, in some other forever. Where there’s no blade between us. When we can mean more than nothing.”

Then she turns away, and every instinct howls at me to lunge and pin her down. But I don’t. I lock my muscles and clench my jaw until my teeth ache.

“Three days,” I tell her, and there’s no gentleness left. No softness or sweetness. “I’ll give you three days to settle your debts. And then I’m coming for you.”

Bryony pauses at the threshold. “I’ll be waiting.”

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OceanofPDF.com

40

BRYONY

AMARA LANDS US in the woods outside of Hellevig. The familiar spires and red roofs of the palace pierce the sky in the distance, and the walled forest where I first met Evander is visible even from here.

The memory of his touch lingers on my skin—the press of his mouth, the honey-rough rasp of his voice. Everything I can’t have. Everything I don’t get to keep.

All this exquisite skin I love marking up? It’s born from atrocity.

When he kissed me under the griefwood, I felt the echoes of wounds that will never heal, losses that fester and rot. All the dark places inside him my family helped create.

Can you even imagine the violence it took to make me this monstrous?

My chest clenches around the memory of his words. He’s spent centuries with that loss lodged behind his ribs like a blade. Centuries with nothing to bleed out the poison.

“You good?” Amara asks, tucking her wings close.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes,” I say. “Tunnels are this way.” I jerk my chin toward a crumbling stone archway nearly swallowed by vines. “Help me with the door?”

The rusted grate shrieks as we heave it open. Amara conjures a wisp of light, its blue glow casting shadows on the decrepit entrance.

She arches a brow at me. “Charming. You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Would you prefer I waltz up to the palace gates and announce myself?”

“Point taken.”

We descend into the tunnels, each step kicking up decades of dust and debris. These passages haven’t been used since the god-human war, when my ancestors needed escape routes in case the gods breached palace defenses. The decay is clear in the scent of mold, the drip of water in the distance, the cracks along the walls.

After a while, we reach the hatch that will spit us out in the palace kitchens.

“Wait here,” Amara murmurs. “I’ll scout the patrol patterns.”

She scales the ladder and disappears up into the kitchens.

Hurry, I urge her in my head. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

After a few minutes, a soft scuff signals her return. “East wing guards just cycled through,” she whispers as she descends the ladder. “Servants have been asleep for an hour at least. We’ve got maybe ten minutes before the next patrol.”

I set down my pack, already mapping the route in my head. “I’ll get Theo myself. If any guards need dealing with, better not risk Alexios sensing your involvement.”

Her mouth thins, but she doesn’t argue. “Watch yourself, then. There’s a guard posted at her door you’ll need to handle quietly.”

“Got it.” I check my daggers in their sheaths, their weight already warm and familiar. “Be ready to fly her to safety once we clear the tunnels.”

“And you?”

“I’ll deal with my uncle and hide out until you circle back.” I swallow hard. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Thank me by not getting caught. Now get up there.”

I haul myself up. The kitchen is eerily silent at this hour, massive brick ovens cold and dark. I stick to the walls, muscle memory making my footsteps soundless as I move past shelves laden with preserved goods.

My heart hammers against my ribs. I take off down the corridor, skirting pools of shadow, keeping low. The thick runner muffles my steps as I head for the antechamber and up the stairs to the family wing of the palace.

Hurry, hurry. Get Theodora and get out.

I’m passing the second-floor landing when a jaunty whistle splinters the hush. Heavy footsteps echo up the stairwell, growing louder.

Guard on patrol.

I press myself into the deepest shadows, lungs burning as I hold my breath and track the guard’s progress—the steady tromp of boots drawing closer, then beginning to fade as he continues his rounds.

My heart thunders. I count my breaths. In for seven. Hold. Out for eleven. Repeat. Just like Amara taught me.

When I ease out of hiding, the final stretch of the corridor unfolds before me. At the far end, a guard slouches against my sister’s door, his head nodding toward his chest.

I creep forward on silent feet. Closer. Closer. Just a few more steps separate me from my target. The guard’s breathing remains deep and even.

Until suddenly, it isn’t.

He jerks awake. His brow creases in confusion when he sees me—recognizes me—and he opens his mouth to speak. But I’m already moving. My palm clamps over his lips, and I slide my knife free, driving the blade deep into his throat. Hot blood wets my fingers as I twist the weapon loose.

He collapses to the carpet. Crimson spreads around his body, pooling beneath my boots. I stare at him for a long moment, something cold and ugly twisting behind my ribs—a snarled knot of feeling too tangled to parse.

Focus. No time for guilt.

I slip into Theodora’s chambers. Moonlight spills across the floor, painting everything in shades of silver. And there, sprawled in the center of the bed, is my sister.

“Theo, wake up.”

“Bry?” Her voice is thick with sleep as she stirs and sits up. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, obviously.”

She gapes at me for a heartbeat, chest heaving, and then she launches herself at me in a fierce embrace. “Gods, I’ve missed you, you reckless idiot.”

“You didn’t tell me anything in your letters.” I hug her back just as hard. “Overthrowing Uncle? I had to find out through demi gossip.”

Releasing me, she fumbles for the bedside lamp. “I hadn’t played my hand yet. The bastard struck preemptively and moved to corral my supporters. I’m almost impressed, truthfully. It’s the most initiative he’s shown in ages.”

The light flares, throwing her face into sudden, horrifying relief. Bile claws up my throat. One eye is blackened and swollen shut, and her lip is split down the center. Bruises bloom across her delicate features.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” I breathe.

“And I’ll gladly help you hide what’s left of the corpse. But later.”

Theo begins pulling clothes from her armoire. She strips out of her nightgown, donning plain trousers and a shirt.