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Not one moved.

Their eyes were tormented with controlled panic.

Her rider tightened his grip as they passed the end of the blockade.

Alora loosened a breath.Did … did some of them …

No. She was struck by an illusion…

Surely they couldn’t possibly have bowed.

The group rode in unnerving silence. Into the blackened abyss. Into whatever night horrors awaited them beyond the gates.

Not a sound. Not a mere word—for miles.

Only shifting their hoods and exchanging glances at each other. And if their silence wasn’t unnerving enough, the absence of all other sounds made Alora’s skin crawl. No chirping ofnight-bugs, even the horses’ steps were barely a whisper against the chilled breeze. The moonlit sky carried satiny clouds across the vast view. Stars gleamed brighter with each step away from the burning city behind. Thankfully, the smell of burning wood and blood was exchanged for fresh settling dew upon the grass.

It made breathing easier at the very least.

Still, nothing had been explained to her.Why did they save her? Why did they force her out of Telldaira?Who was the male behind her, and where were these faeries—High Fae—humans,whoever they were, taking her?

She had almost wished she was safely back at the manor with Kaine. Almost.

You were never safe there. You know that.

Alora shivered at the voice and turned in the saddle to gaze back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the city. And as her eyes watched the flames disintegrate in the distance, the shadow behind her moved.

Her treasonous eyes flickered, meeting those night-dark eyes that reached oblivion, and a taut, snarling face.

‘Eyes forward. Do not turn around unless I say.’She remembered his warning a little too late but willed the courage to speak to the face encompassed in a sea of black, and moonlight reflecting from his eyes. “Where are we going?”

Silence.

Tears coated her sore eyes. Not of panic, which had subsided the moment they crossed the northern gates, but of frustration.

“Please,” she growled, the bite of her own tongue surprising her. But with each passing footstep, his gaze was unmoving—uncaring—surveying into the darkness beyond.

She turned and tightly gripped the cold clasp of her borrowed cloak to the point it threatened to slice her palm.

With Kaine, she knew him. Knew his movements, how he spent his days, his manipulations, and his tantrums. Knew how far to push and when.

But this stranger … there was no way of knowing. He’d ridden into Telldaira outside the meadow. Had watched her—fought for her—in the tavern. Killed those soldiers in the alley. Took her out of Telldaira. He had plenty of opportunities to do … whatever it was he planned to do now.

And she didn’t care to find out what it was. She was outside the walls. That was enough.

Squinting her eyes, Alora searched for recognizable landmarks. Truthfully, hardly traveling north from Telldaira, there wasn’t much hope, but surely something would become familiar. If she could find somewhere to hide, maybe she could call on her magic to?—

My magic.

The thought hadn’t dawned on her since the alley.

With only four riders, maybe she stood a chance. The cover of night would be far better than waiting to discover where they were taking her. Even with little knowledge of how to wield her powers, it was still better than nothing. And even though she had wielded her powers only a little in the past, she still had to try.

Closing her eyes, she willed the familiar burn to her palms.

It was useless.

The warmth inside her veins, the heat that pulsed across her being, was not there. And the flicker of embers didn’t spark in her hand when she tightened it in her lap. The rage in her heartbeat pounded against her chest as the pinprick sting drew her attention to her arm. To where the soldier punctured her death mark, rendering her powers completely futile.