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“True.” Bastian dipped his chin in acquiescence. “But I assume children born here aren’t all able to use Mortem?”

“Nope.” Lore gave a halfhearted attempt at a laugh. “I just got lucky, I guess.”

He snorted, then inclined his head to her moon-marked hand, swinging by her side as the other held her torch. “Did all children born to Night Sisters get marked?”

Her hand curled closed. “No. Only those chosen to go into the tomb on the eclipse and see if Nyxara’s body has stirred.”

His eyes darkened at the word eclipse, knitting it together with the planned ball, synchronicities that itched.

A few steps of silence. Then Bastian swallowed. “You shouldn’t go to the ball on the eclipse, Lore.”

“I have to. If I don’t, it will be obvious that we—”

“No, you fucking don’t.” The words shredded in his teeth, vehement and bladed. “You don’t have to jump when August or Anton says jump. Remaut and I can come up with cover if we have to. Pretend you’re sick, lock yourself in your room, hells, run through the storm drain and go find a tavern to get raging drunk in, but I don’t think you should come.”

She stopped. “Do you know something?”

“Of course I don’t know something.” Bastian looked irritated. “But I don’t have a good feeling about it, and when it comes to you, that’s enough for me.”

“Why do you care so much about protecting me?” She planted her feet in dry dirt and bone dust, faced him like an oncoming cavalry. “Why do I care so much about protecting you?”

“I don’t know.” Rounding the bend to what they’d said before, this feeling of knowing each other, of being pulled along by strings they didn’t tie. “I don’t know.”

Lore sighed, looked away. “Fine. I will try to get out of going to the eclipse ball.” But even as she gave the promise, it sat heavy on the back of her throat, and tasted like a lie. Her thoughts turned to Gabe, to how he’d take it if she suddenly decided to completely defy Anton. He’d gone along with all this so far because of the threat of the Burnt Isles—the threat to her, specifically, since his connections and title could probably get him out of it. But after last night, she didn’t want to test how far he’d go for her, whether that line had finally been crossed.

Bastian nodded. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t go, either,” Lore said, ripping her mind away from Gabe. “What with your father trying to get rid of you, and all.”

“I’ve been bringing in my own food,” Bastian said. “And I won’t drink or eat anything at the ball, so that rules out overdosing me with one of his poisons. If I were someone who partook in such things, it would make his job easier, but I’ve always had a distaste for it.” The corner of his mouth lifted, his bared teeth gleaming in the light of his torch. “And if he tries to kill me in a less subtle way, who can blame me for returning the favor?”

Disquiet thrummed in her temples. “Let’s hope he behaves, then.”

The look in Bastian’s eyes said part of him didn’t hope for that at all. Part of him wanted a bloodbath.

Up ahead, the catacombs branched again, a T of tunnels leaving no option other than left or right. The path she’d traced in her head said to go right, but as she turned, the light of her torch flickered over something on the wall. Words.

She stopped, frowned.

Bastian came up beside her, the light of his torch illuminating the words further. The lettering was shaky, deep in some places and barely there in others. “Looks like gibberish,” he said. “Maybe a revenant got loquacious right before they died.”

“I don’t think a revenant is going to go this deep.” It’d been half an hour at least since they’d passed remains. Lore held her torch closer to the wall.

She squinted, puzzling through the inscription aloud. At least it was in Auverrani. “Divinity is never destroyed,” she murmured. “Only echoed.”

“My vote is still on gibberish.” But there was a ribbon of disquiet in Bastian’s voice that said the words felt just as heavy to him as they did to her. “Revenant or not, how did someone manage to write on a stone wall?”

Something pale was half hidden in the dirt. Lore nudged it with her toe—a bone, the end sharp. The surface was pockmarked and pitted, as if it’d been here a long time. “Maybe you were right about the revenant.”

Bastian’s nose wrinkled. “Good for me.” He nodded down the branching tunnels. “Which way?”

She jerked her head to the right and continued on, a little quicker than before. She kicked the bone into the dark.

They kept up the faster pace, torches sputtering. Lore thought it’d been a little over two hours since they descended through the well—still plenty of time before sunrise, but Gabe would be worried. He’d be pacing, she was nearly sure of it. Pacing and pulling at his eye patch.

“Do you think he’s all right?” It pushed past her lips without her conscious thought to voice it.

“Remaut?” Beside her, Bastian stiffened, but his voice was even. “I’m sure he’s just fine. Maybe he’s taking the opportunity to get some sleep. He’s looking less than well rested these days.”