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Damn it. I cannot afford to fuck this up. I can’t fuck up the permits. I know what the prince does to people who wrong him…

I shift away from the sergeant, smiling politely at him. “I have a special permit to leave,” I say pleasantly, gritting my teeth at the terrible pounding in my head. “They told you about it at your meeting this morning, right? Talan assured me that you’d be briefed by your commanding officer.”

“Of course…” he says hesitantly, worry in his eyes. “But your guards…”

I straighten. “Talanspecificallytold me that with a permit, I could leave on my own.” As I speak, I lean into his mind and whisper,It’s fine with the permit. Just let her through. It’s fine.

“Of course, Your Highness. They told us about this this morning,” he blurts. “At the meeting. The permits.”

He motions for his men to open the gate. I mount Clover, my skull splitting with agony, and gallop past them. The cold wind kisses my skin, but I feel free. No guards, no threats of torture or towering stone walls to trap me.

But the guard’s thoughts ring in my skull.

I know what the prince does to people who wrong him…

The Vorgium Forestis about thirty miles east of Castle Perillos. Beneath a frosty sun, I ride Clover as fast as I can without wearing her out, galloping on short, easy stretches of road. When the ground becomes trickier, I slow to a canter.

A long horse ride leaves a lot of time for thought, to wonder if I’ve made a wildly unhinged decision. Maybe Nivene is right.IfMeriadec was caught by Arwenna, maybe she took him to her mother’s manor. Maybe my decision to race into a distant forest based on nothing but the ambiguous fluttering of a metal moth is not the best life choice.

Still, it’s too late to turn around now. I keep riding onward, grimly committed to my mission. My gut instincts have proven trustworthy so far.I cling to that thought, trying to silence the nagging doubts gnawing at my mind.

A track veers off the main road. Ithinkit’s the one I saw on the map, the one that leads to the shores of the Gorre Lake. As I take the trail, sunlight breaks through the treetops, flecking the earth with pale gold. I slow Clover to a walk, the eerie silence setting my nerves on edge.

After a few minutes, the path widens, and I spot the lake, frozen and shimmering like silver. A two-story cream-colored cottage stands a few hundred yards away by the lakeside, its façade crisscrossed with oak beams. At first glance, it looks harmless—a quaint forest retreat for wealthy Fey to unwind—but there’s an unnatural stillness to the place, a sinister quiet, as if all of nature has gone still. Faintly, I smell blood.

I dismount, tying Clover to a nearby tree, and creep forward. In the cold air, my breath fogs around my face, and I pull my cloak more tightly around me. I don’t see smoke coming fromthe chimney, suggesting that the cottage is empty, but there are fresh hoofprints in the snow.

Hunching down, I approach a window and peer beneath a crack in a wooden shutter. It’s dark inside and silent as a grave. I creep to the door and slip my lockpicks from my boot. The lock should be easy, but my fingers have gone numb from the cold. My teeth are chattering, and takes me a few minutes to unlock it.

I open the door, and the scent of blood hits me. The remains of a fire still smolder in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room.

My eyes adjust. My gut wrenches, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, my head spinning with horror.

CHAPTER 25

Ihardly recognize him. He’s bound to a chair, his face burned and bruised. Dried blood stains his clothes, his bare chest, and the floor all around him. My eyes mist, and my breath stutters. I swallow the rising horror.

I didn’t know Meriadec well, but I’d spent a few relaxed days with him while we were establishing my cover. He was a loyal, extremely clever man committed to overthrowing a tyrannical leader. He didn’t deserve this.No onedeserved this.

I touch his hand. It’s cold but not freezing, his flesh still soft. He was alive not long ago. Death has only just claimed him.

Turning, I rush out the door before I vomit and breathe in the cold air. My legs shake, and I scramble to think clearly, to come up with a plan for what to do next.

My gaze trails over the hoofprints. Given how fresh they look, she must have left recently, and they seem to lead back toward Arwenna’s father’s castle.

I’m sure she’d want to share the news with him.Father, excellent news! I tortured a man to death and learned the secrets about Nia.

The image of his shattered body flashes in my mind, and my heart sinks. No one could survive what Arwenna did to himwithout talking, without giving up every bit of information she wanted. She hadn’t just hurt him—she’d taken her time, carving into his flesh like a sculptor working on a macabre masterpiece.

When Arwenna tortured Meriadec, she’d clearly relished the job.

My heart slams against my ribs, and fury courses through my blood.

I have to catch up with her before she tells anyone.

And I don’t have much time.

I flattenmy body against Clover’s neck, urging her faster until the world around me blurs into white and shadow. Between my thighs, Clover’s muscles bunch and release, coiled springs exploding across the snow. Frosty wind whips at my face, and I’m not slowing. Every second lost takes me closer to absolute disaster.