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It was another perfect night within the palace grounds. The twin moons sat full, the Kaiwi River bright and majestic as a warm breeze threaded through the open halls and walkways.

Tanwen had worked a full evening shift of harvesting jadüri in the gardens, their blooms bright and ripe under Maja’s and Parvi’s wide gazes. Her arms were sore, and her fingers were cramped from the delicacy needed when handling the sacred flowers.

Yet she had not retired to her bed like her peers.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep was not in her future.

Instead, Tanwen had slunk to a part of the palace she assuredly should not be.

Now, tucked behind a stack of barrels, she eyed a descending staircase at the far end of a pillared pathway. It sat like a yawning mouth of a giant, pitch black, as moonlight spilled between columns.

To her right, the flap of wings filled the air beyond the railing, the rambunctious laughter of men.

Tanwen was in the kidets’ barracks, hidden within the main floor, which was mostly made up of a large courtyard and a few sparring grounds. The men’s living quarters were above her. Below was a storage facility where training gear, uniforms, and various supplies were housed. Or so Eli had told her.

It was also where they were keeping very precious persons.

Tanwen’s breaths came quickly as she stared down the dark archway in the distance, her pulse a flutter of anticipation and worry.

She had found them!

Or, rather, Eli had.

Her father and brother were here, together. Quite possibly directly below where she crouched.

Tanwen pressed her fingers into the cold stone at her feet, relief and excitement an impatient weight against her back. She wanted to rush forward, descend the stairs, and swing open the door despite the two kidets Eli had said stood sentry outside.

Tanwen swallowed the foolish urge, knowing she had not endured all she had to throw it away on an impulse.

But by the Eternal River, she had found her father and brother!

Her need to see them left her unhinged and desperate. She wanted to pull Thol into her arms and hold him and kiss him and yell at him for ever leaving her.

She rubbed at her sternum as a tugging pain gripped her chest, a sob threatening to spill from her lips.

Eli had found them last night before he had explained that Thol had been dragged away. From the sounds of her father’s agony and brother’s terror, it had happened before.

Dread was an icy clawing down Tanwen’s skin, a queasiness to her gut.

She could not bear for Thol to be in pain. The horrors he must be enduring by being a known Mütra in the palace were unfathomable.

At least he lives. Tanwen attempted to placate her worry. They live.

And soon she would free them from this nightmare of an island.

Tanwen’s attention swung back to the empty stairwell, catching a dart of movement.

Eli, she thought, pulse tripping forward as the mouse scurried along the wall’s edge to slink into her shadowed corner. He jumped into her hand. How are they? Tanwen silently asked. Did you see them? Did you give Father my note?

Eli shook from her onslaught of questions. Aberthol has been returned, he told her, but he doesn’t look ... well.

What do you mean? Tanwen asked, back tensing. Has he been beaten?

Something has been done to him, Eli explained. But it cannot be seen from the outside. I feel a sickness of magic within him.

Tanwen frowned as this news worked uncomfortably down her throat.

I gave Gabreel your note, said Eli as he turned in her hands, displaying his back. He gave me one in return.

Tanwen’s heart skipped as she eyed the small scroll tucked into the tiny canister she had outfitted to her friend.

Unrolling it, she squinted at the small words scrawled on the thin parchment.

Tanwen’s lips pressed together with displeasure, her cheeks warming in ire as she read.

Oh, my wyrthia, you should not have come!

Tanwen resisted crumpling the note and chucking it over the nearby railing.

Should not have come?

These were the first words from her father for her risking everything to save them. For her suffering through all that she had so she could reunite their family.

I should not have come.

A lifetime of frustration awoke in Tanwen’s gut.

She could never do what was right by her father.

Not even when it came to saving his life.

He is worried for you. Eli’s thoughts entered Tanwen’s. He fell to his knees when he saw me, burst into tears when reading your note. I would not be upset by his reaction. They seem to have gone through much since coming to Galia.

Her friend’s reasoning was a chill breeze, cooling Tanwen’s anger.

You are right, she replied before letting out a steadying breath.

I always am, squeaked Eli.

“I cannot believe we found them,” Tanwen whispered, stroking Eli’s fur. She allowed a bit of hope to touch her heart.

And now to save them, Eli replied.

“Yes,” she said, a flutter of anxious anticipation passing through her veins. “Though there’s much we still need to figure out in that department.”

Like an actual plan, suggested Eli.

“One will come,” Tanwen vowed. “Now that we know where they are, we can plan. We’ll send them another note tomorrow after I post an update to Mother.”

Tanwen had yet to write to Aisling since her first week in the palace, but given the progress in locating her father and brother, it felt time to pen another.

Tanwen removed Eli’s collar and helped him into the pouch along her hip. After retrieving her tray of docüra she had tucked away, she stood.

With her senses on high alert, she glided from the shadows and into the torchlight, trying her best to appear calm. She hoped she resembled an ordinary atenté passing through the barracks, there in case a kidet wished for a drop of ecstasy. It was not an uncommon occurrence.

The difference was that Tanwen was doing it alone.

Atentés were allowed such nightly rounds within the barracks only when in pairs, if not groups.

Never by oneself.

But it had been a risk Tanwen unfortunately needed to take.

And so far, it had paid off.

As she strode through the central courtyard, the white stone was bathed in the glow of the full moons. Her leather-bound feet echoed softly with each step she took.

Tanwen felt the eyes of nearby kidets tracking her as they lounged against the far walls or sat on the ledge of a spilling fountain, either just getting off or about to start a shift.

Despite their lazy gazes, their attention felt predatory.

But so did that of most of Tanwen’s clients.

Still, her low-neckline dress did not help in her desire to be inconspicuous. She loathed every form-hugging, silky drape.

I only need to make it to the receiving hall, she thought. Once she was there, other servants would be about whom she could hide beside.

As she stepped from the courtyard into a covered walkway, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She chanced a glance over her shoulder, her heartbeat tumbling as she caught sight of stalking forms.

Dread gripped Tanwen as she met the leering gazes of two kidets, their wings like billowing capes at their backs.

We have company, she thought to Eli in a panic.

How can I help? he asked from where he hid in the pouch at her hip.

I don’t know yet.

As she skirted a column, so did the soldiers.

Tanwen was an explosion of fear, wondering how far she could get if she decided to run.

“Oy, you there,” called a deep voice from behind. “Don’t run off too fast,” said a kidet, as though reading her thoughts. “We seek your services.”

Tanwen closed her eyes, issuing a silent curse, before she plastered on a smile and turned.

Because that was what she was meant to do when beckoned.

“Of course, sir.” She bowed as the two soldiers stopped in front of her. “I have plenty of docüra left for each of you this evening.”

“That’s not the service we are interested in,” said the taller soldier, his dark gaze running over her body.

Tanwen’s grip hardened on her tray, terror rushing through her veins.

The kidets wore the lower-ranking uniforms, their gray coats short, with a cloud insignia adorning their lapels. This knowledge only had Tanwen’s fear spiking. The greener soldiers were always the ones to watch. They had too much still to prove and were constantly looking for an outlet after being berated all day by their superiors.

“I fear docüra is all I have to offer at the moment, sir.” Tanwen tried to appease with another grin. “My madam is unfortunately waiting for my return from my current rounds.”

“Then lucky for you,” said a soldier, moving a step closer, “we can be quick.”

His hand snaked out, grabbing Tanwen and tugging her to his chest.

Her tray was knocked away, the jar of docüra crashing to the ground. The precious dark liquid spilled across the white marble and splattered the hem of her dress.

“Sir!” She tried to pull away, but his hold turned icy cold as he used his freeze magic. She cried out, her knees buckling from the pain surging against her wrist.

Tanwen was shoved from the covered passageway and into a shadowed alcove. Her vision blurred from her sudden tears, her wrist still smarting as her surroundings spun.

The other kidet was suddenly at her back, locking her against him.

Panic surged through Tanwen as his touch groped and tugged at her peplos. There was a ripping as one of her straps broke from its clip, a hard grip against her now-exposed breast.

Tanwen yelled as she scratched and kicked, but it was like attempting to shove off a pile of boulders.

“Fighting only makes it last longer,” hissed the kidet behind her, his breath hot and rancid on her neck. “But perhaps that’s what you want.”

Tanwen rammed her head back, cutting his face with the tip of one of her horns. He roared a curse as he grasped the very horn that had maimed him. Her neck was yanked hard to the side, her spine screaming at the harsh angle as he wrapped his other hand around her neck.

Tanwen choked out a scream, a yell for help, but then her mouth was covered by a clammy hand.

Tanwen bit it, hard.

She was rewarded by a stinging slap.

“Know your place, goat ,” growled the soldier. “We seek euphoria, and you are meant to give it.”

Tanwen became out of body then, her mind unbelieving that this was about to happen. She had heard such horrifying tales, of course—other atentés forced—but it was not something that was usually tolerated.

Plus, plenty of her peers already willingly bedded Volari.

But these men seemed to get off on the unwilling.

A howl filled their alcove, one that wasn’t hers, as she was suddenly released. One of the kidets sprang back as he swatted at a gray mass of fur digging its teeth into his neck.

He tore Eli from his throat, sending him flying.

“No!” Tanwen lurched forward, toward where her friend had been flung, but she was snapped back by the other guard.

“Is that thing yours ?” the bleeding kidet spit. His eyes were glossy, mind no longer lucid in his rage.

Tanwen froze, not knowing what to do. All she could think about was Eli hurt, but she couldn’t bring any more attention to him. By some miracle, she remained rooted, gaze holding the monster in front of her as her body shook with her anger and terror and agony.

Please, be alive! she silently prayed, called to Eli in her mind.

I’m here, Eli replied. I’m all right, he assured despite his pained tone. Still, hearing him sent a rush of relief through Tanwen’s veins.

The guards held her in place, their wrath palpable in their searing grips.

Tanwen braced herself.

But then a deeper darkness blanketed their shadowed alcove, a harsh gale as a towering mass of wings descended.

“If you value your lives,” came a warning rumble, “you will remove your hands from the princess’s atenté at once.”

Blessed cool air replaced the press of bodies as the men sprang away from Tanwen, falling to their knees.

“Your Royal Highness,” they said in unison, heads bowed.

“We did not know she belonged to the princess,” one quickly explained.

Their intruder’s wings were still wide, a massive cresting wave about to sink ships. He didn’t waste time addressing them; his attention was consumed by Tanwen, who stood on shaky legs behind the prostrating kidets.

As Tanwen clutched her half-torn dress to her chest, she met the burning gaze of the prince.