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“We’re willing to sacrifice ourselves.”

My heart jumps at the passion and loyalty in Nicostratus’s voice. He’s determined to do anything to help his brother.I don’t want him sacrificing himself. Don’t want anyone dying.

“This isn’t just about the battle,” I say, gripping his arm. “Quin needs people who believe in him—beyond titles, beyond fear. I can’t fight like you, but I can heal, and I can rally. Let me help.”

* * *

Fat, shiny leaves and perfumed flowers whir under us, Nicostratus’s arm firm around my waist as he lifts us into the air. He glides us stealthily past redcloaks on watch, across the murky canal, around the wall cordoning off the barracks, to the theatre I was at earlier. We halt in the shadows and Nicostratus raises his hood.

“I thought you’d be able to come here openly?”

“Not if I want to keep my whereabouts from Uncle’s spies.”

Drunken redcloaks stumble around the corner. Nicostratus presses me into the wall, his arm firm across my chest as their laughter echoes past. My breath tangles with his, but his sharp whisper cuts through: “Move.”

He steers me to a dog-sized hole in the wall. “Through here,” he orders, urgency sharpening his tone. I crawl through with him close behind.

“Where are we?” I whisper.

“Behind my room.” He keeps us huddled in the shadows. “They’ll only check here at curfew.”

Drunken song comes in bursts from the other side of the wall.

“They’ll be the high duke’s men. No one else would dare.”

When the discordant voices fade into the distance, Nicostratus lets out a whooshing breath.

He takes my hand, his armband bumping against my wrist, and I glance down to fresh bruises. “Nicostratus...”

He pulls his sleeve over them with a pleading look not to ask, and urges me back through the hidden hole. I wouldn’t have minded the time to sneak into his rooms and see how he lives, but I can feel his unease. And there are other priorities.

He dusts my cloak on the other side. “Sorry. I’d have flown us over, but that—”

“Would’ve been a bit conspicuous?”

He chuckles, and whisks us through shadows to the wardrobe where the costumes are stored. The masquerade masks have an entire room to themselves. I turn slowly, taking in the vibrant feathers, shells, silks. There are hundreds.

But not enough.

Nicostratus plucks a bird mask off the wall and presses it to his face. “Explain?”

“How will he know who’s on the king’s side if no one can be recognised?”

The hand holding the mask drops to reveal an expression of comprehension. Like me, Nicostratus spins around the room, taking in the masks.

“A stand at every pier, every entrance to the gala. Encourage everyone to wear one.”

Nicostratus straightens. “I’ll have my men on it. We can use the royal collection, too.”

I glance inquiringly at him.

He smirks. “Want to take a trip to King’s Island with me and see for yourself?”

I jerk my gaze down.

Nicostratus laughs. “Don’t worry, he’s not there.”

The royal collection fills an entire attic in the stone house on King’s Island. Nicostratus sets a lantern on a corner shelf and lights the others spangling the room.