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“Done.” I nodded at Dorian and Hugo before turning back to the Dowager .

“We really don’t have much time. Dante Darkblood came to you with the Arcana Deck. Did he trade it with you for something?” Dorian asked urgently.

The Dowager’s lips curled, a knowing smirk unfurling.

“Dante Darkblood,” she echoed, tasting the name as though it were a vintage wine.

“You speak his name so casually. Brave. No… he did not trade the Arcana. He sought a powerful binding spell. I can tell you where he has gone.” She let the words linger, an invitation, a trap.

“I can tell you where he has taken the cards.”

“A binding spell? Why?” Dorian’s questioning grew more frantic. “Is there some power he is trying to set free?”

“Binding, not unbinding.” The Dowager leaned in, her voice silken. “Dante is not looking to free what’s bound within the cards.” Bound within the cards? She drummed her nails against the arm of her throne. “He is looking to keep the deck bound.”

“What?” A cold chill slid down my spine. I stepped forward. “Keep what bound? Why ?”

The Dowager’s lips curled, the glimmer of a deeper truth flashing behind her eyes.

“Perhaps he knows something you do not.” The air in the room felt too thin.

“I will tell you this much. Dante fears what is inside that deck.” Her fingers tapped once, twice against the wood. “And perhaps you should, too.”

“Why?” The air trembled and a deep, thrumming force coiled around me.

“Tell us where he is,” Dorian urged.

“East,” the Dowager said, curling her open palm into a fist. “Track the Serpentine River all the way until it turns to tar. He has entered the Court of Midnights, where the High King of Elsewhere resides. But be warned. He knows you are following him and he has sent word.”

“Wait,” Dorian countered. “Hold on. The High King of Elsewhere lives ? I thought the Twin Thrones fell after the Scission War centuries ago. The High Council rules Elsewhere, the Archdaemons. Is the High Queen of After alive, too?

“That.” The Dowager clicked her tongue. “Is quite enough information for the price of a soul tether.”

“Please,” Dorian insisted, desperate. “At least confirm it. The High King… he lives?”

“In a sense.” Her smile was cold. “Some say the High King never died, only waited. Trade the girl’s soul and I will tell you more.”

“Wait.” My throat constricted. “ Wait . You say Dante has sent word?”

“ Enough,” the Dowager boomed. Her words cracked something deep in my chest, an invisible thread tugging free from my ribcage, dragging some fragile part of me with it. “My payment.”

I wished I had prepared myself for the pain, the searing, emotional pain. It was worse than when the shadows took over, worse than anything I had ever felt before. It hit me in the center of my chest like a silver bullet. I gasped, doubling over. What had I done?

I locked eyes with the Dowager, gasping for air. She had taken something far more valuable than I realized, the small sliver inside of me that felt light.

And with it, the bond between Hugo and I snapped. Gone. His fingers slipped from mine. I hadn’t even realized he’d been holding onto me.

Hugo blinked, confusion flitting across his face as he glanced between me and Dorian, his brows drawing together. “Who are you? What am I doing here?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

What could I even say? He was right there.

But he wasn’t. And this was my fault. I wanted to shake him, to scream, but I’d chosen this.

I’d paid the price. And now all I could do was stand there while he looked at me like I was a total stranger.

I felt the absence of our connection like a phantom limb.

The tether was gone, something so rare, and I’d chosen to cut it.

I thought of the first moment we’d met in Astoria Manor, of the way he looked at me with that dazzling smile that melted away everything else. But now… even the memories of him felt stolen, like I was looking back on someone else.

Dorian’s grip on my arm was too tight as he steered me from the tent, and we spilled back into the bustling streets of the market. All the swagger was gone. His expression had cracked into wide-open panic.

“The Court of Midnights,” he muttered, driving the toe of his boot into the gravel of bones.

“This can’t be happening. The High King is alive .

If Dante reaches him before we do, the cards will be out of our reach forever.

” He glanced up from the dull glow of his watch, eyes cavernous.

“Twenty-two hours left until death becomes permanent, Arabella. We’re damned. ”

“Then we intercept him,” I answered, forcing purpose into my voice. “We know exactly where Dante’s going. That’s our advantage. Anyway,” I shrugged. “Your mother will come for us before the clock runs out. She’s not going to let you die, Dorian.”

Dorian laughed thinly. “How many times do I need to say it? My mother can barely resurrect one soul a night. Two would be a miracle. Three is—” He broke off, glancing at Hugo, who stood behind us, dazed. “Impossible.”

Dorian turned as he whispered curses to the saints. Hugo was staring at the floor absently, as though concussed.

I was the only one that seemed to notice how the air around us had shifted. Lantern flames guttered sideways as though a wind had blown through here, but I felt nothing. A low hum thrummed beneath the cobbles.

“Dorian,” I warned .

He looked up, face dropping. “Stay close,” he hissed, shoving me behind a half-toppled stall.

Shadows in the street melted, pooling and rising into cloaked figures. They didn’t look like the other wraiths. “What are they?” I whispered.

“Perfect timing,” he snapped, eyes scanning for an escape. His hand tightened on my wrist. “Arabella, if I tell you to run?—”

There was a flash of blinding light, then brutal hands clamped around my arms. I gasped as the world lurched. The booths, the lanterns, even Dorian’s stunned face splintered into streaks of black and red.

I tried to suck in air as the darkness folded, muffling every sound but the frantic drum of my own heart.

Then, there was only the dark.