His training with the assassins must have paid off, because Leonard was across the carriage and brandishing a hidden dagger between them before she could blink. “Please,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling in uneven patterns. “Please, Laena.” She opened her mouth, ready to explain everything, but he was gasping down breaths, his eyes wide. “I can pay you.”A small, wretched part of her was fairly smug at the sight of him cowering. But she held up her hands, showing him she was unarmed—at least as far as he could see. “The king thinks you’re part of a rebel movement that’s interrupting his agenda.”A harsh, barked laugh—so raw that none of the smooth, lovely man was even recognizable in the sound. “I’m not part of any movement! Wyrd damn me, I might be a whore, but I’m not a traitor!” She kept her hands where he could see them, and opened her mouth to tell him to shut up, sit down, and listen. But he went on. “I don’t know anything about a movement like that—I haven’t even hea

It was one of the longest nights of Benjamin ’s life.Every second had passed by with horrific clarity—every agonizing second as Matilda lay there on the floor of his office, her bodice covered in so much blood that he couldn’t tell where she was bleeding. And with all the stupid layers of frills and pleats, he couldn’t see the entry wounds.So he’d lost it. Utterly lost it. There was no thought in his head beyond a roaring panic as he shut the door, took out his hunting knife, and ripped open her dress right there.But there were no wounds, only a sheathed stiletto that clattered to the floor and a scratch on her forearm. With the dress ripped away, there was hardly any blood on her. And that’s when the panic cleared enough for him to remember what she’d whispered: gloriella.A poison used to temporarily paralyze victims.Everything from then on became a series of steps: quietly summoning Ress; telling the young, talented guard to keep his mouth shut and to find whatever healers wer

She saw it only because it was the sole bit of decoration she’d encountered along the wall. Considering how the last six months of her life had gone, part of her just knew that it had to mean something.There was no depiction of Eleanor , or a stag, or anything lovely and green.No; this tapestry, woven from red thread so dark it looked black, depicted … nothing.She touched the ancient strands, marveling at the hue, so deep that it seemed to swallow her fingers in its darkness. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and Matilda put a hand on her dagger as she pulled the tapestry aside. She swore. And swore again.Another secret door greeted her.Glancing around the stacks, listening for any footsteps or rustle of clothing, Matilda pushed it open.A breeze, musty and thick, floated past her from the depths of the spiral stairwell revealed by the open door. The light of her torch reached only a few feet inside, illuminating ornately carved walls depicting a battle.There was a thin g

“I think he values his life more than he values anything else.” “He’s a courtesan; how can you be sure you can trust him?”Matilda slipped back into her chair, Fleetfoot curling between her feet. “Well, you trust me, and I’m an assassin.”“It’s not the same.”Matilda looked to the tapestry along the wall to her left, and the chest of drawers in front of it. “While I’m telling you all the things that could get me executed, there’s something else that I should bring up.”Jeremy followed her line of sight to the tapestry. After a moment, she let outa gasp. “Is that—that’s Eleanor in the tapestry, isn’t it?”Matilda smiled crookedly and crossed her arms. “That’s not even the worst of it.”As they walked down to the tomb, Matilda told Jeremy about everything that had occurred between her and Eleanor since Samhuinn—and all the adventures that had befallen her. She showed her the room where Cain had summoned the ridderak, and as they approached the tomb, Matilda winced as she remem

The ballroom had been decorated in hues of white and glacier blue, with swaths of silk floating from the ceiling and ornate glass baubles hanging between. It was something out of a winter dream, and it was in honor of Hollin, of all people. A few hours of entertainment and a small fortune spent for a boy who was currently sulking on his little glass throne, shoveling sweets down his throat as his mother smiled at him.He’d never tell Leonard , but Benjamin dreaded the day when Hollin would grow into a man. A spoiled child was easy enough to deal with, but a spoiled, cruel leader would be another matter entirely. He hoped that between him and Leonard , they could check whatever corruption was already rotting away in Hollin’s heart —once Leonard ascended to the throne.The heir was on the dance floor, fulfilling his obligation to court and crown by dancing with whatever ladies demanded his attention. Which, not surprisingly, was almost all of them. Leonard played his role well and sm