Page 174 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

I slid out of bed quietly, moving carefully to avoid the creak in the floorboard by the window. My boots were laced, and my jacket was over my shoulders before I paused long enough to listen. Cordelle snored softly, Jax muttered something in his sleep, and the rest of the room was still.

I slipped out the side door and closed it behind me, breathing slowly until I was out in the courtyard.

The cold stone pressed against my fingertips as I traced the familiar path through the castle’s outer corridors. Each step was slow, calculated. The air was sharp with the scent of wood and lingering smoke from the castle hearths. No guards—not in the hallways at least. I hadn’t expected any. The inner castle was rarely patrolled this late; they trusted the watchtowers and fortified gates to keep intruders out.

Too bad for them,I thought grimly.

The hallway narrowed, ending in a curve that hid the entrance to the hidden passageway. I reached out, gripping the cool metal of a wall-mounted sconce with an illumination crystalembedded in its iron frame. My fingers hovered over it just before I froze.

A whisper of movement behind me.

I spun just as something hard slammed into my shoulder. The force sent me crashing into the wall, the impact rattling my bones. I twisted, just ducking the next strike as a shadow lunged at me.

My attacker wore black from head to toe—face masked, body armored in fitted leather. His blade glinted in the dim light as it swept toward me again. I barely had time to jerk back, feeling the sting of cold metal as it grazed my arm.

Instinct kicked in, and I drove my elbow into his ribs. The grunt that followed was low and angry, but the moment of hesitation was enough—I grabbed my dagger from my belt and slashed upward.

He twisted away just in time, the blade slicing through the fabric of his hood. For a brief second, I glimpsed a face—familiar eyes, sharp and cold. I knew those eyes.

I didn’t get a chance to place them before he struck again, forcing me to retreat a step closer to the secret door.

The cold blade hissed through the air again, slicing close enough that I felt the wind against my cheek. I twisted, dodging just in time, my boots scuffing against the stone floor as I stumbled back.

My attacker was relentless—a figure cloaked in black, face hidden beneath a hood. His blade danced like a serpent, striking fast and fluid. I parried, twisting my wrist to drive his weapon wide, but my counterstrike missed by inches.

“You’re persistent,” I growled, shifting my stance.

The man chuckled darkly. “You have information I want.”

His blade shot forward again, and I stepped inside his strike, slashing my dagger across his forearm. The fabric tore—and sodid his skin. Blood welled, glistening crimson in the dim corridor light.

That was when I saw it—the tattoo.

A sword wreathed in snakes—the mark of the Order of the Blade.

My father wouldn’t have paid for a killer from an outer kingdom,I thought, stomach twisting.This wasn’t his doing... but someone powerful had sent him.

I didn’t have time to process the thought before his knee slammed into my ribs. I staggered, gasping for breath as he brought his blade down again. Metal screeched against metal as I blocked it, but my arm shook violently from the force. My strength was waning—I wasn’t fast enough.

He twisted, feinting left, and the sharp bite of steel tore across my forearm. Fire flared in my veins, and I staggered back, clutching my bleeding arm.

“Don’t worry,” the assassin sneered. “It won’t take long. Then we will have some fun.”

A wave of dizziness struck me—far too fast for blood loss alone. My vision swam, and my legs faltered.

Poison.

I blinked hard, forcing my mind to focus, but my limbs felt sluggish. The assassin’s blade rose again, and I knew I couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.

Then suddenly—the hidden door burst open.

Zander stormed through, his eyes dark and flashing with Dark Fire. His blade sang as he drew it, intercepting the assassin’s strike with brutal precision. Steel clashed, sparks flying, and the force of Zander’s counterstrike sent the assassin stumbling back.

“You are dead,” Zander hissed at the assassin as Dark Fire erupted on his palms.

I barely registered the words—my body felt too heavy, like my blood had turned to syrup. My vision narrowed to a tunnel, and I forced myself to focus on my attacker.

The assassin cursed and then sprinted down the corridor. Zander didn’t give chase—instead, he turned back to me, dropping to his knees.