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The cross isn’t here.

Though a fresh decanter of absinthe sits atop the sideboard,the cross isn’t there either. It isn’t among the cut glassware beside it, the dense books on the shelf above. It isn’t tucked beneath the carpet or tacked behind the portraits, isn’t hidden within the enormous curio cabinet.

It isn’t here.

Swallowing a scream of frustration, I nearly hurl my candelabra into the fireplace. It isn’there, and I am running out of time. Already, Michal could be returning to the castle. Thanks to his carnivorousdoorknob, he’ll know of my trespass the instant he steps foot in this room. He gave permission to explore the castle, yes, not break into his private study and rummage through his personal belongings. It has to be here.

It has to be.

I fling open his curio cabinet once more.

Even if I flee, he will find me, and without silver in my hand, he will be able to punish me, to lock me in darkness and throw away the key. I have to keep searching. I have to—

My candelabra knocks into the floor of the curio cabinet with a hollowthunk.

Hardly daring to breathe, I drop to my knees and search the shadowed recesses of the cabinet with clumsy fingers. The wood sits flush against the floor, and—there. A small button hides at the very back. When I press it—my eyes wide—gears crank from deep within the wall, and the floor of the cabinet pops open.

“A trapdoor,” I breathe.

And it is.

Below, an impossibly narrow stairwell plunges straight into darkness, the air thick and earthen, laced with the sweet, metallic scent of blood. My stomach flutters at that scent. My mouthdries at the absolute absence of light. Whatever lies at the bottom of this tunnel, it cannot be good. Still... I should investigate. This is surely where Michal has stowed my silver cross—in this damp and darklairbeneath the castle. Before I can change my mind, I race back to his desk, fumbling with the box of matches and relighting the tapers of my candelabra.

I’m halfway down the stairs before I realize what I’ve done.

Panic creeps up my throat.

No.Taking a deep breath, I focus on counting each tread. Reid always counts to ten when his temper flares. Unfortunately, my own anger has fled, leaving me as cold and hollow as the cavernous room into which I step. My hand clenches around the candelabra. The last time I journeyed underground, Morgane had knocked me unconscious, and I woke in the catacombs. I woke in a casket.

I shake my head against the memory.This isn’t like that.Though Michal has carved his lair into the very rock beneath the castle, these walls aren’t those of a crypt or casket. These walls sparkle with veins of mineral and specs of mica, and across the room, dark water extends smooth as glass beyond the glow of my candles. Whether it’s a pool or secret inlet of the ocean, I cannot tell, but a simple boat has been tethered at the shore. My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of it.

Dimitri said I could only leave Requiem by ship. He said vampire sentries would kill me before I reached the gangplank.

He conveniently forgot to mention this little rowboat hidden beneath the castle.

Forcing my feet into motion, I descend a second, wider set of stairs that feeds into the main level before picking up a pebble at the water’s edge. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I throw itas far as I can, holding my candelabra aloft to watch its trajectory. It does little good, however; even with the distant splash, I have no way to gauge whether this inlet connects to the sea. Except—

I crouch abruptly, dipping my fingers into the water before bringing it to my lips.

It tastes of salt.

Tears of overwhelming relief prick my eyes as my entire body slumps forward. Because this grottomustlead to the sea, which means—this is it. I hardly allow myself to think the words, tohope, but there it is, materializing just as clear and bright as my candlelight on the water. Michal is gone, and I can escape.

I canleave.

My foot is halfway in the boat before the reality of the situation swiftly follows, crashing down on my head and stunning me. I can flee Requiem tonight, yes—every instinct in my body screams for me to go, go,go—but my flight won’t stop Michal. He will not give up. He will still hunt for me, and worse—he will still hunt forCoco. Eventually, he will find us, and I will not be able to stop him from hurting her.

Not like I can now.

My fingers clench white upon the boat’s lip, and I stare determinedly at the dark water, deliberating. Michal needn’t know I uncovered his trapdoor, his secret chamber and private grotto. For all intents and purposes, he believes I am trapped, helpless, or he never would’ve allowed me to roam the castle unattended. And now—if Idofind a weapon against him—I have means to escape.Truemeans. If I killed him, no one would think to look for me here. They’d flock to the docks, and by the time they realized Ivanished, I could be halfway back to Cesarine. Would they eventryto avenge his death?

This could work.

Gingerly, I step back to shore, turning to examine the grotto with newfound urgency. I’ll need to be very careful, of course. Michal cannot know I’ve been here, or my entire plan will be ruined. Creeping forward, I approach the vast bed in the center of the cavern—ebony wood and lustrous emerald silk—before hesitating, loath to touch it. I cannot envision Michalsleepingeither.

Focus, Célie.

Swiftly, lightly, I run my hands over the coverlet and pillows in search of my silver cross.Nothing.I turn away again. Though a thick carpet softens my footsteps, Michal has included little other decor: no statues, no pillows or settees, no candlesticks. A haphazard row of paintings leans against the far wall, but he’s hidden them with black cloth. Unable to resist, I uncover one of them, staring into two faces I recognize in pieces: his nose and her eyes, his jaw and her mouth. Michal’s parents.