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‘I know I’ve never been pestered this much in my own gods-damned chamber before. Are you really still here?’

‘If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here at all,’ I said, glowering at him. I should be home, with my family.

He turned, moving towards the window. ‘I told you, it wasn’t my idea.’

‘Well you certainly seem to have come around on the whole baiting Bane to his death thing,’ I snapped.

‘What else am I supposed to do?’ the King enquired. ‘Conjure up a feast to lure him in?’

‘You didn’t seem too worried about luring anyone when you slaughtered Cullen’s entire crew, stopping word from actually reaching Bane that I’m here!’ I cried. ‘Surely you have a brain as well as a sword.’

‘Let’s say I don’t.’

‘You’re impossible.’ I clenched my jaw, clutching at the last shreds of my patience. ‘Don’t deny that in the right hands, your magic could do far more good than bad.’

‘And I suppose you’d only use it for good.’

‘Obviously,’ I ground out, irked by his derisive tone.

Sebastien snorted. ‘Then perhaps you know a spell to make yourself disappear.’ He turned away again, the tension in the air dissipating.

‘I’d sooner use it on you,’ I retorted, scowling at his back.

Book or not, I’ll find what you’re hiding, I thought, heading for the door before the tides of his temper could turn again.

His final words followed me out into the hall. ‘Goodnight, blackbird.’

*

My feet glanced off the flagstones as I ran.

A moonlit sea flowed between the palace’s sprawling, briny walls, licking at my toes. Silver light soaked the world – the spires, the stars, the sand. A tapestry of marble rose from the rocky shore, etched in centuries of history and salt. Ivory towers and yawning arches speared the black sky, their faded glory crumbling beneath the weight of time.

I slowed my pace, letting the water lapse around my ankles as the fresh air filled my lungs, weaving through my hair. I gazed around in wonder, watching the moonlight drape the wet marble like silk. Then I looked down, and froze in horror.

Rivulets of crimson streamed through the cracks in the ground, cascading through the veins of the city.

Blood. There was so much blood.

My heart accelerated, adrenaline pounding through me until all I could see was red, red, red.

Thick, hot rivers of blood sloshed around my calves as I whirled around, searching for the source. It came from everywhere, all at once. I tried to run but the rising liquid was too thick, wrapping around my ankles like boneless hands, tugging me backwards.

Then it was gone. Torn from me in a gust of wind – the blood, the palace, the night.

I gasped, lurching awake in bed. Moonlight streamed through the windows, dim compared to the starry glow of my dream. I could still feel it, sitting heavy in my chest. There was an emptiness where the darkness had been wrenched from me. A piece of night. Snatched away, as if it wasn’t meant for my eyes.

But I’d seen it. Seen its beauty, its glory; seen a world of crimson tides and star-soaked sky that I wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

13

Dust circled the sunlit row of bookshelves in which the King found me several days later. I was skimming through volume after volume, scouring the pages of any book old enough to hold mention of the Sinking Cities. Still nothing.

Goosebumps prickled across my bare shoulders, but I was too absorbed in my task to notice his entrance until the doors snapped shut behind him. I kept my eyes fixed on the page in front of me. Unless he was here to apologise, I had nothing to say.

What kind of tyrant burned books?

Still bent over the novel in my hands, I moved to the table, its polished surface scattered with more volumes, their pages curled and yellowed with age. Sebastien paced to the other side of the table, studying the array of books piled around me.