Page 70 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

JIN

Jin had never been to the Ettenian palace.

He’d walked the street outside the palace on errands at times, but rarely and only when it couldn’t be avoided, for it reminded him of his father.

Shaw Siwang would often recount tales of the times he and Jin’s mother had visited the halls, experiencing the extravagance as they’d sipped tea with the Eagle.

Never again, because of a choice the Ram made.

One she would pay for—not for Jin’s own sake, really, but because it was what his parents were owed after what she’d done to them.

He didn’t realize his hands had begun to shake until Flick reached over and gripped them in hers, tightening her fingers through his.

He squeezed back, forcing himself to remain present.

As they neared the palace, the dim, gaslit streets turned brighter, packed with throngs of people walking to the gardens before the still-closed doors. Carriages trotted away after dropping off their hires. Laughter echoed with hushed voices. The mood wasn’t as somber as Jin would have expected.

“So much for arriving early,” Matteo murmured.

“This is good,” Jin said. “Plenty more cover for us.”

The palace sat on a slight hill, sprawling with poise, its turreted spires matched by the intricate corbels, accents as dark as the night sky, lending an eerie, sinister air to the place.

Still, opulence oozed from every inch, and Horned Guards were everywhere.

Set beneath an arch carved with thick florals, the double doors were closed, but they looked familiar somehow.

“Do those not remind you of the one from the sanitorium?” Matteo remarked.

That was it. Odd.

The carriage rumbled to a stop beside a long line of others, and Jin leaped out, umbrella clutched in one hand, the other checking on the two knives he had tucked away.

There would be no guns tonight, for stealth was of utmost importance.

He helped Flick down, careful not to put pressure on her hands and arms. “Are you sure you’re up for this? ”

Flick nodded, her sunflower eyes intent. It was less of a decision for her, and more of a need, Jin realized. She would not allow her mother to think she had won in any regard.

“This is it,” Laith said, his hair damp from a quick shower—so quick, he had missed an entire streak of blood.

Two of the Athereum vampires joined him, burly men in fitted tweed frock coats.

The six of them made their way up the gravel pathway that wound around the palace until they reached a short wall with a hatch-like door set into a square of concrete in the winter-stiff grass.

“There it is,” Flick said.

“That tiny thing?” Matteo asked.

Flick nodded. “It will take us to the bunker.”

“—And she had the gall to wear such a thing to my dinner function,” a woman said as she passed with another, and the six of them straightened as though they were having a frivolous conversation of their own.

Goodness. The snobbery of high society was a level not even vampires possessed.

The moment they passed, Jin dropped to his knees as the others covered him. He pulled out his lockpick. There was no turning back now.