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The grateful courtiers ran for him, seeing a knight of the Lionguard, a protector. They surged out of the palace, coughing violently against the smoke. Great black plumes rose out of the collapsed floor and Dom was reminded of the dragon for a second, its jaws pouring ashes. With a sniff he realized it was not just the hall on fire.

The old keep still burned too.

The Temur vaulted into the open air of the courtyard, never breaking stride. Dom watched, stone-faced, as Sigil shoved the last of them out the door.

Without thinking, she grabbed Dom’s neck and pulled, trying to drag him along.

The immortal did not budge. It was as good as trying to rip up a tree stump.

Sigil hissed, the flames gleaming in her eyes. “Keep to the plan,” she snarled, throwing Sorasa’s words back in his face. “Thisis the plan.”

“I don’t see her,” Dom snarled back, breaking Sigil’s hold. He looked back to the hall again, expectant. But there was no Amhara shadow among the nobles and servants. No copper eyes finding him in the smoke.

The bounty hunter gnashed her teeth, hovering in the doorway. Behind her, one of the keep towers went up in a plume of flame. The Temur ambassador called out in his language, beckoning back to Sigil.

She winced, true pain written across her face.

“Sorasa will be right behind us,” she bit out. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Dom did not doubt it.

He put a gauntleted hand to Sigil’s shoulder and pushed, sending her falling back on her heels. She wheeled her arms to keep her balance, a shocked look on her face.

Dom was already gone from the door, retreating back into a palace gone to ashes.

“So do I.”

He shoved against the tide of the panicked crowd, wading through the courtiers as he would water.

Sorasa is going to bring the entire palace down, burn this island, and every person on it.

What was an opulent hall only moments ago looked Spindletorn, burning as Gidastern did. Tapestries flamed along the walls and stained glass cracked in the windows, shattering across what remained of the floor. Every piece of the hall seemed primed to feed a fire, the lacquered wood melting, the wine-soaked linens turned to flame. Dom tried not to breathe too deeply. The smoke stung his nose and eyes anyway. He felt the steel of his armor heat against his clothing, growing hotter with every step. He soldiered through it all. It was too easy to turn from the discomfort, his focus narrowing to the path laid out in front of him.

The edge of the ruined floor charred, the wood burning and rushes flaking away as the hole before him grew. A few guards pressed against the walls, inching their way forward in an attempt to reach the Queen’s tower. Their terrified faces glowed white against the red tongues of flame.

Dom didn’t hesitate, leaping down into the crater.

Puddles flamed across the stone floor. Fire ate through the barrels, their hoops like empty rib cages. A few glass bottles popped, shattering as the alcohol inside ignited. He stalked past them all, ignoring the heat rising all around him, inside his armor and out.

Ahead is the royal residence. There’s a stairwell all the way up to Erida’s own chambers.

Sorasa said as much not an hour ago. He followed her voice as he would a signpost. The passages were stone, giving no quarter to the fire still raging behind him. He ran, dreamlike, ashes spiraling in his wake. Embers landed in his cloak and he ripped it aside, abandoning the mantle of a dead knight, leaving it behind to burn.

The stair was as Sorasa said, at the end of the long corridor.

He climbed eagerly. He did not tire nor falter. He did not fear anything but failure, or worse, disgrace. When he reached the top, hundredsof steps spiraling out below, Dom drew his greatsword. The blade drew quietly from its sheath, gleaming dimly in the weak light of the servants’ passage.

A heartbeat thumped behind the only door on the landing. The rhythm was strong and steady.

Dom threw open the door without warning, kicking it wide to reveal the Queen’s solar. And a Lionguard knight posted like a statue. He faced the servant door, his golden armor glowing beneath the light of a hundred candles.

The knight jolted, jumping to attention.

“What is it? What was that sound below?” he blurted out, until his gaze sharpened, his eyes tracing the lines of an unfamiliar face beneath a too-familiar helmet.

He moved for his sword, but far too slowly.

The hesitation was all Dom needed.