The footman gasped and opened his mouth to call for help. I gripped his arm fiercely. “Think, man. The lord of a major house murdered in your mistress’s bedroom? How do you think that will play out for the guards in this house?”

Not to mention any hope I had of understanding what had gone on here.

“This cannot be covered up—”

“No, it shouldn’t. But the appropriate people must first be advised. It’s not for you nor I nor anyone else to disturb this room until then.”

He studied me, his expression troubled. “What would you advise us to do, m’lady?”

“I think someone should be discreetly but immediately dispatched to fetch Lord Kiro.” I hesitated. “Tell him that Lady Neve has discovered something he needs view immediately. He will know what to do.”

“And you, m’lady? You cannot stay in this room of death? That would be—” He paused. “—unseemly.”

I smiled at his concern and couldn’t help but wonder if the sensibilities of the Reaches ladies really were that delicate. “Someone has to ensure no one disturbs this room.”

“There are other guards, m’lady—”

“Yes, but one of them might well have let the killer in.” I motioned to the closed and curtained windows. “How else did he get into this room if not by the main door?”

He glanced at the curtains, his expression troubled. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to stay in here alone—”

“Fine,” I said, a touch impatiently. “Ask a guard you trust beyond doubt to stay here with me.”

He hesitated, and then nodded. In a very short amount of time, a guard slipped into the room, his face becoming ashen when he spotted Rossi’s body. But he didn’t say anything, simply stood at the door and watched me suspiciously—even though he was well aware I couldn’t have done this deed. Not when he’d witnessed me coming in with Ewan only half an hour previously. Rossi had obviously been dead longer than that; the blood on the back of his tunic was already stiff and dry.

After what seemed an interminably long time, there was a soft knock at the door. “Who is it?” the guard asked, one hand on his gun.

“Lord Kiro. Open up.”

The guard drew his gun, then cautiously did so. Kiro brushed him aside and stepped into the room. Behind him was Trey. Both men stopped when they saw Marcus.

“This isn’t what I had been expecting.” His gaze met mine. “You’ve searched the room?”

“No. We merely ensured the room remained untouched until you arrived.”

He nodded and glanced at the guard. “Outside. Ensure no one else enters here, but speak no word of this to anyone else. Understood?”

The guard nodded and retreated. Once the door was closed, Trey walked across and touched my arm lightly. “Are you okay?”

I smiled. “I’m no tender Reaches lady. I’ve seen more than my share of death, and most of it far more gruesome than this.”

“I wasn’t referring to this event, but rather the reason you came to be here.”

My smile grew. “Ewan dreams of things he’ll never get.”

“Ah. Good.” He returned his attention to the body. “Why on earth is Marcus here? In Hedra’s room, of all places?”

“I don’t know.” Kiro walked across to the body and squatted beside him. “As far as I’m aware, he and Hedra could barely tolerate each other.”

“Maybe his anger with Saska drove him here,” I said. “Maybe he hoped Hedra could somehow reach her.”

“You’re the only one that can apparently reach her,” Kiro said. “And that hasn’t gone down well with Hedra, let me tell you.”

“Hedra’s in league with the voices, so that’s no surprise.” I walked across to the windows and pushed aside the curtains. The doors were definitely locked. “Is it possible someone’s setting Hedra up?”

“It’s possible, but a body is no easy thing to move over such a distance, and other witches would have at least sensed something odd was happening.” Trey stopped on the other side of Marcus’s body, his gaze sweeping him critically. “I saw no such awareness rippling through the masque.”

“Then he was killed here?”

“Yes,” Kiro said. “There’s a good amount of blood on the floor underneath him.”

“And the knife?”

“Is ceremonial, and one that bears the markings of the Harken house.” Kiro pushed upright. “We’ll need to arrest Lady Hedra, but to do that, I must first discuss the matter with the Forum leaders.”

Trey glanced at him. “You think she did this?”

“No.” Kiro grimaced. “There is a taint of passion about this murder. Hedra has no such emotion left in her.”

“If it’s an act of passion, surely the most logical suspect should be his hetaera, Lida.”

“She wouldn’t have murdered Marcus. Her standing in the Rossi house depended on his survival and favor.” He frowned. “Besides, she’s not a strong enough witch to have gotten in here unseen.”

“Unless she had help,” Trey stated. “Lida’s family lost a lot of face when Saska was welcomed back into the fold so readily by Marcus.”

“And she has three sons, hasn’t she?” I asked. “Could one or all of them be behind this act?”

“Possibly all.” Kiro’s expression was thoughtful. “But Jamson, as the eldest, has the most to gain by this death. Until Saska’s child is born and proven to hold magic, he’s the rightful heir, born of a hetaera or no. If Saska’s son is born into magic, then Jamson will act as regent until Saska’s child is of age.”

“If Saska was barely sixteen when she disappeared, how can Jamson—” I stopped, remembering what Trey had said about Lida being Marcus’s lover long before he committed to Saska.

“His marriage to Saska was political. Jamson was fifteen when the commitment ceremony happened.” Kiro paused, and frowned. “I’d originally thought he and Lida were behind Saska’s disappearance, but a reading of them both proved otherwise.”

If Kiro had bedded Jamson at fifteen in order to do a full reading, his suspicion must have been backed by a fair amount of evidence, given it was illegal to couple with anyone that young. Unless, of course, it was given full Forum backing, and that might have been the case. Marcus’s own brother had said he’d do whatever he thought proper to keep up appearances, so he might well have appealed to the Forum to allow a full interrogation of Jamson, if only to prove the innocence of his firstborn son.

It was also possible such an act might have been seen as a betrayal by Jamson, one that had possibly festered and grown in the years since.

“Just because they were innocent then doesn’t mean they are so now,” Trey commented.

“Indeed,” Kiro said. “And that should probably be our first line of questioning. The lady Lida resides in her suites within the Rossi household. Perhaps it would be best if you bring her here.”

“And Jamson?”

“Is at the masque.” Kiro’s gaze came to me, and a slight smile touched his lips. “Perhaps his retrieval should be left to our lady N.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And why is that, my lord?”

“Because Jamson is heavily invested in following the preachings of the god Drago, and has been seeding as many Reaches females as he possibly can.”

A statement that had me wondering if such licentious behavior was a result of being taken by Kiro at the tender age of fifteen. “I’m not the one who can gain the secrets of a man’s soul by bedding him.”

“You won’t have to. Last time I saw Jamson, he was heavily intoxicated. I doubt it’d take much to get him blathering like an idiot.”

I frowned, and waved a hand at Marcus’s body. “If he was intoxicated, he’s hardly likely to have been capable of doing this.”

“Unless the intoxication was merely an act to ensure there are plenty who can swear to his whereabouts at the time of Marcus’s body being found.”

I guess that was possible. “And what of Hedra?”

Kiro hesitated. “I have a man watching her. Once we’ve talked to Lida and Jamson, I’ll deal with Hedra. Even if she’s not responsible for this murder, she remains a threat.”

I glanced at Trey. “You were shadowing her movements, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but she never left the masque.”

“Which means nothing, as it’s more than possible this murder happened earlier than that,” Kiro said. “We’ll have to wait on the coroner’s report.”

“Why not request her incarceration now, just to be sure?” Trey said. “I’d sleep safer knowing she’d been neutralized.”

“I cannot formally arrest her without privately advising the Forum first.” Kiro’s mouth twisted. “I might have been given full rein to explore what goes on, but there are still some protocols involved when it comes to the heads of the twelve houses and their ladies.”

“Do you want me to bring Jamson back here?” I asked.

Kiro hesitated. “Only if you believe he’s played some part in this murder. But be wary. Jamson has a rather nasty streak in him, and if he is drunk, he’ll be all the more dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know. But still, stay wary. And call in help if you need it.” Kiro’s gaze switched to Trey. “It would be best if Lida is brought here without gathering too much attention.”

“Easier said than done, I suspect.”

“You have my permission to tape her mouth and hands if required.”

“And that won’t garner any additional attention, will it now?” Trey said, then caught my hand and led the way out of the room.

“So what does Jamson actually look like?” Though our footsteps made little noise on the warm stone flooring, the footman who’d initially escorted me to Hedra’s room reappeared. With a slight bow, he asked us to follow him, but kept a discreet distance.

Trey hesitated. “I’ve only seen him from a distance, but he’s tall and lean, with hair that is more dirty yellow than white.”

“And he wears the color of the Rossi house?”

“Yes. His mask rather resembles a snarling dog.”

I snorted. “Which is somewhat appropriate, if what Kiro said is true.”

“It is.”

Trey’s carriage was waiting out the front, and the odd silver tunnel had been rolled out to protect us from the weather. Trey helped me up into his carriage, his fingers gripping mine perhaps a little longer than necessary.

In very little time, we were back at the Rossi household. Once we’d reentered the main hallway, he pulled me close and slipped one hand around my waist to my spine. A show for those who were watching, I knew, but not one I was about to object to.

“I know you’re Nightwatch and more than capable of handling yourself,” he said softly, “but Jamson runs with a pack and none of them are pleasant.”

I frowned. “Then why is his presence abided?”

“Because he’s the current heir of a major house.” His expression was flat, but that edge of old pain and anger resurfaced. “As I have said, some of the ladies in this place will go to great lengths to capture such a man, no matter how heinous they might find him.”

“It seems to me that there is a very dark heart to the glitter that is life here in the Reaches.”

“I think you might be right.” His mouth twisted, though it held little in the way of humor. “Why do you think I remain at Blacklake? It’s not just for the sake of Eluria.”

“But the price of such freedom comes at a cost,” I said. “Blacklake is not without its dangers.”

“Yes. But she’s become a strong, independent woman well able to protect herself.” His smile grew, became filled with a warmth and humor that did strange things to my pulse rate. “In that, she very much reminds me of someone else.”

“And just who might that be?” I asked, pressing a little closer.

His grip tightened briefly. “A witch named Saska, perhaps?”

I slapped his arm in indignation and he laughed softly. “Or not.” He leaned forward and kissed me. It was little more than a brush of lips, but it held a heat, a promise, that had desire rising. “Unfortunately, we both have people to hunt down. This discussion can be continued later.” He hesitated, and then added, “Please be careful.”

“And you.”

“I am not the one about to face a drunken pack on their home ground.”

He stepped back and bowed before walking across to the stairs leading down to the next level. I adjusted my slightly skewed mask then moved into the ballroom, pausing at the top of the stairs as I searched the room for someone who fitted the description I’d been given. Once again, a blue-suited footman approached and bowed lightly. “Maybe I can be of assistance, m’lady?”

“I’m looking for Lord Jamson.”

Distaste briefly flashed across the footman’s face. “I believe he’s with friends in the blue room.”

“And where might that be?”

“If you follow this wall around to the right,” he said, waving a hand at the wall behind us, “it is the last door before you come to the white terrace. Be careful, m’lady. He’s in a mood.”

“Then perhaps you should wander past that room at some point in the near future, in case help is needed.” While I was more than able to protect myself, it was still four male witches against one woman armed with only a small knife and very unreliable powers.

“I’ll do as you suggest.” He bowed and left.

I followed the wall around. There seemed to be a lot more people in the room tonight, but I guessed that wasn’t surprising when the equinox was only a few hours away now. The music was rambunctious and loud, and the dance floor so crowded there was barely room to move. Even so, I heard the half scream as I neared the blue room. It was a sound that abruptly cut off, but the hairs along the back of my neck nevertheless rose.

That sound had come from a woman’s throat, not a man’s.

I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I pressed closer, listening intently. There were at least three men inside; a couple of them were talking and laughing, the other making rather crude suggestions as to what should be done next.

Underneath all that was a whimper of distress.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. Anger surged through me and with it came the wind. She ran under the door and, a heartbeat later, had it unlatched. I quietly stepped inside. The four men didn’t even notice. Three of them were too busy discussing the actions of the forth, who was plundering a woman strapped facedown against a table.

I took three quick steps, raised a fist, and swung it as hard as I could. As the blow hit the first man’s chin and smashed him sideways, I spun and lashed out with a bare heel at the second. It hit him hard in the gut, forcing a grunt of pain as he staggered backward several feet. The third man spun around, his expression shocked even as he swung a clenched fist at my face. But the blow was wide and slow, and I had plenty of time to duck it. A quick, hard uppercut had him tumbling backward over a chair. He hit the ground awkwardly and didn’t move.

The fourth man—a man with dirty yellow-blond hair—swore and swung around, his thick cock rampant and bloody as he grabbed the air and flung it at me. It threw me back several steps before I was able to brace myself against it. The man I’d hit in the gut grabbed my arm, but I twisted out of his grip and thrust him as hard as I could against the nearest wall. I didn’t wait to see the result, but dove under another blow of air and grabbed Jamson by his ball sac.

“One move, be it from you or the air,” I ground out, “and I shall rip these things free from your body and feed them to the Adlin.”

He made an odd sound of distress and pain, and became a statue. I wasn’t even sure he dared to breathe. I slid my knife free and pointed it at the man I’d thrown against the wall. His nose was broken and there was blood all over his face and mouth. I hoped like hell it was very painful. The air stirred again but held no immediate threat. Perhaps Jamson’s friend was in too much pain to concentrate on any form of retribution.

“You got a name?” I growled.

He hesitated, and then spat. The bloody globule landed near my toes. “Franc.”

“Untie the woman, Franc. Now,” I added, when he hesitated and glanced at Jamson.

He shuffled forward and did so. The woman scrambled free of the table and hastily lowered her skirts. If her clothing was anything to go by, she was a chambermaid rather than one of the guests. She was also, I suspected, little older than sixteen or seventeen and, if the blood I’d seen was any indication, uninitiated in the ways of Astar. My hand tightened against Jamson’s sac, and his knees buckled. He didn’t fall, but only because I shoved him back against the table.

“Are you all right?” I asked softly.

She nodded, but wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her cheeks were red, her eyes puffy with tears, and her mouth pinched.

“What’s your name?”

She hesitated, and then said, “Kara.”

“Kara, do you wish to press charges against these men?”

She rapidly shook her head. I wasn’t surprised given her position here would probably be, at best, tenuous if she did, but it nevertheless angered me that these men would so easily get away with such a serious assault.

“I’ll support you in any hearing if you wish to do so.”

Again she shook her head. “I just—” She hesitated, and sniffed. “I just want to go. Please, can I go?”

“Of course you can. But if you need—” The words died on my lips. She was already out the door.

Franc once again spat out blood and then said, “You will pay for this—”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I cut in. “And if you don’t want your friend here to become a eunuch, I suggest you quit the threats and drag your companions around so I can keep an eye on the three of you.”

I squeezed Jamson’s ball sac as I said it, and he made another of those half-gurgled screams. His sweat and pain stung the air, but the smell did little to ease the anger within me. That anger very much wanted to not only rip his balls off but slice up his manhood to ensure he could never again violate anyone—innocent or not—in such a manner.

Franc reluctantly obeyed. Once he’d dragged the two unconscious men into my line of sight, he stopped beside them and crossed his arms. “This action will be the end of you,” he said. “We will ensure—”

“Look, if we’re going to throw threats about, let me give you one or two,” I said. “First off, I’m here under the orders of Lord Kiro, who is currently investigating the murder—”

“Murder?” Franc said. “We haven’t murdered anyone—”

“Not in this room, maybe, although who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t walked in when I did.”

“Oh for freedom’s sake, it was only a damn maid—”

He didn’t get any further, because my knife buried itself in his thigh. He screamed and went down, clutching his leg with both hands as blood began to pulse. I squeezed Jamson’s balls harder then released him; he made an incoherent noise and dropped to his knees.

The door opened and the footman who’d given me directions entered. His gaze swept the room and, just for an instant, something close to delight crossed his expression before he got it under control.

“Is everything all right, m’lady?”

“Everything is perfectly fine, thank you.” I tore a strip of fabric from my skirt then walked over to Franc, throwing the material at him before bending to retrieve my knife.

“No, it’s not,” Jamson wheezed. “Arrest this witch, she attacked us—”

“Four Upper Reaches lords brought down by one woman? Won’t that be the talk of the masque,” I said. “Are you sure you want to advertise that? Because I don’t mind ensuring everyone knows the precise reason why I attacked the four of you.”

Jamson glared at me. His friend didn’t even do that much—he was too busy tying the material around his thigh in an effort to stem the bleeding. I returned my gaze to the footman. “Could you have a guard placed on the door? None of these men are to leave until Lord Kiro arrives to interrogate them.”

Jamson snorted, though the sound came out weirdly given he was still battling to breathe and obviously remained in pain. “Taking advantage of a maid is hardly a crime worthy of Kiro’s—”

I raised a hand in warning and he cut the rest of the comment off. The footman bowed. “I shall order it done, m’lady.”

“For freedom’s sake, why are you taking orders from her? She’s a damn nobody!” Jamson said. “I’m the Rossi heir apparent and you’re mine to command—”

“And Lord Kiro’s orders,” I cut in, “override everything else.”

“You’re not Lord Kiro—”

“No, but I am here on his orders—and that can be easily confirmed by simply requesting his presence here immediately.”

“I think perhaps that would be for the best, m’lady.” The footman hesitated. “And perhaps I should ask a healer to attend Lord Franc?”

“He doesn’t deserve it, but I guess you’d better.”

He ducked his head to hide his smile and retreated, closing the door behind him. I cleaned my knife on the coat of one of the unconscious men, and then said, “Right, tell me about Marcus Rossi.”

Jamson drew in a deep, shuddery breath, and then said, “He’s my father.”

“And you wanted him dead.”

He snorted. “So what? I’m not the only eldest son who wishes death on his parent.”

“But I’m betting few of the others have actually followed through with the desire, as you have.”

“What on earth are you blathering about, woman?”

The confusion on his face was very real. He might be a drunken abuser, but it very much looked like he wasn’t guilty of patricide.

“I’m talking about your father, and the fact he was murdered this evening.”

Jamson blinked. Surprise, horror, hope, and fear—the emotions tumbled across his face in quick succession. “Seriously?”

“Yes. And given you have the most to gain by his death—”

“If I was going to murder anyone,” he retorted, “it’d be the bitch carrying the spawn of another. He or she is the real threat to my position, thanks to the fact it’ll be born of his legal wife.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t in fact murder your father? Or did you perhaps arrange for someone else to do it?”

“I didn’t kill him and I didn’t ask anyone else to do it, but I’m damn glad someone did.”

That was, beyond any doubt, a truthful statement. His hatred of his father and his elation at his death were evident in his voice and in his eyes.

A knock at the door had me glancing around. “Enter.”

The door opened and a gray-clad healer walked in. His gaze quickly scanned the room and a smile twitched his lips. Jamson and his friends really weren’t liked up here in the Reaches, it seemed. “M’lady,” he said, with a quick nod at me. “I’ve been told to advise you Lord Kiro is on his way. A guard has been placed at the door to ensure these four remain here.”

“Excellent.” I sheathed my knife. With Kiro on his way, there was little point of me remaining here. I had the answer I’d been sent here to find; it was up to Kiro to decide what to do with these men now. “When you finish with these four, could you check on a maidservant called Kara for me? She was the victim of an attack by these delightful souls.”

“Indeed? I’ll ensure Lord Kiro is also aware of that when he arrives.” His gaze was cold with anger when it rose to mine, but it wasn’t aimed at me. “And I’ll certainly find Kara and ensure she’s okay.”

“Hey,” Franc growled, “I didn’t actually do anything—”

“No,” I said. “You just stood back, offered suggestions, and cheered Jamson on. Which is just as bad in my books. You’re damn lucky that knife was aimed at your thigh and not your rotten heart.”

“Amen to that,” the healer murmured.

Franc shot him a dark look, but wisely refrained from saying anything. Jamson was also quiet, but I could feel his gaze on my back, and it was as deadly as a knife—and that might just become a reality if I wasn’t very careful. I had a feeling the Rossi heir did not appreciate being shown up in any way, shape, or form.

Of course, he had to find me first. It was doubtful that—even when my face was revealed at the equinox unmasking—he’d think to look in the Nightwatch for me. Aside from Saska and the now dead Marcus, Kiro and Trey were the only other ones who knew my background, and I doubted they’d reveal it, as it would void the very reason they were using me. No Reaches man or woman—no matter what the house—would reveal any information, let alone their most intimate secrets, to someone considered so far beneath them. They might find a stained witch intriguing, but once they discovered I was actually nothing more than a Nightwatch officer with a small amount of magic… well, I’d be seen as little higher than a serf—as someone they could use but certainly never trust.

I headed back out into the ballroom, then paused, not entirely sure what to do next. After scanning the crowd and seeing no one I knew, let alone anyone I wanted to talk to, I walked back to the foyer, vaguely hoping to catch Kiro on the way through. But there was no sign of him—if he was on his way here, as the healer said, then he wasn’t coming via the main entrance. Which didn’t really surprise me; Kiro, I suspected, had a long habit of doing the unexpected.

I walked across to the main doors and studied the long line of carriages outside. The one bearing Trey’s colors wasn’t present, so he was obviously back at the Harken house with the lady Lida. I contemplated joining him, but before I could move, the wind whispered around me, bringing with it a distant but familiar sound.

The Adlin were howling again, but it was stronger—angrier—than before. It was also a sound that spoke of an imminent attack.

The itch to run down to the gates, to take my place amongst my fellow Nightwatch, had me taking a step forward before I could stop it. The reality was, the Nightwatch and the walls were more than capable of taking care of the Adlin without my help. Even if the Adlin used trebuchets against us, as they had in Blacklake, it wouldn’t help them breach the walls or the gates. They were too thick—too strong—to be brought down by fire, however fierce. And not even the heaviest rock the Adlin could cast against the walls would mar their mirror surface and give them climbing holds. Even if the fire did reach the outer bailey area, it was, for the most part, more stone and earth than wood, and wouldn’t easily burn or smoke.

So why did the wind speak of trouble and treachery?

I frowned and stepped further into the night. The air was bitterly cold, and fat drops of rain fell from the edge of temporary canvas cover, chilling the back of my neck before running down my spine. Far below me, I could see the lights that lined the inner wall, and, beyond that still, the black ribbon that was the main outer wall. From a distance, everything seemed to be as it should. There were no alarms, and nothing to indicate an attack. And yet the wind continued to suggest all was not as it looked.

Damn it, why did she speak so clearly to me sometimes, and not at others? Was it simply because I hadn’t gone through the initiation ceremony? Or was there something else going on? Certainly she’d been clearer within the walls of the Rossi household than anywhere else, but standing out here on the porch rather than inside shouldn’t have made that much difference.

As I caught the ends of my skirt to stop it flying over my head, something weird happened. The wind dropped and everything went still; even the storm seemed momentarily hushed. Then, with a huge whoosh, the air rushed backward, as if drawn unwillingly down the hill. Even the breath from my lungs was snatched, and it left me momentarily dizzy. I threw a hand against the sidewall to keep upright, and felt the shudder go through the stone. But power wasn’t being drawn from it—not in the same way that the air was being sucked down the hill. It was more a reaction to what was happening—it was as if the earth was issuing an odd kind of denial.

A heartbeat later, the attack alarm sounded.

Not up here in the Reaches, but down below, in the outer bailey. Lights flared along the inner wall, throwing the area immediately around it into brightness, and highlighting the scramble to get to the walls.

Because it was the night of the equinox, and there was only a skeleton crew manning them. If ever there was a perfect time for an attack, then this was it.

I clenched my fists against the increasingly urgent need to take my place amongst them, to fight beside the people I’d grown up with, the people I cared about. Ava and April would be down there somewhere, running to answer the call to arms. I should be with them, not up here playing games with people who’d never accept me.

Except it wasn’t a game. Not when the very safety of Winterborne might well hinge on us uncovering the true depth of the plot Hedra, Saska, and the now dead Pyra were involved in.

Besides, even if more than half of its personnel were drunk, the Nightwatch could cope with an attack. The walls wouldn’t be breached, not by anything the Adlin could throw at them.

It is not the Adlin you have to worry about, the wind whispered, in a voice that oddly sounded like Saska, but rather treachery from within. The Adlin did not call the air.

The image of Hedra, feet bare against rough, wet stones, her hair shining brightly against the rough blackness of the inner wall, flitted through my mind.

Hedra was supposed to be here, in the ballroom, her every movement being watched, so how could that image be fact?

Trust, the wind whispered.

But if Hedra is in Winterborne as a spy for whoever’s behind this plot, why would they risk exposing her?

Because her position here has become tenuous. Because of you. Because of your actions. She will make her mischief and then she will run.

Not if I can help it. I ran into the storm and was soaked in an instant. I didn’t care. The driver of the first carriage in the long line hastily jumped down from his covered seat as I approached, his face one of confusion and concern.

“M’lady, can I—”

“Find Lord Kiro immediately. Tell him Lady Hedra is in the outer bailey.” I brushed past him and jumped into the cabin.

“M’lady wait!”

I didn’t. I just hit the start button, grabbed the steering stick, and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The carriage lurched forward, rattling and shaking as it picked up speed. I zoomed through the gates and followed the wet roads down the hill, slipping and sliding around the various corners. More than once the carriage threatened to smash sideways up the wide pavements and into the ostentatious entrances of the many houses that lined the roadside, but each time I battled the steering stick and managed to keep disaster at bay.

The closer we got to the inner wall, the more strident the alarm became, and the more urgent the wind’s whisperings. My breathing was little more than short, sharp gasps, but it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even the exertion of battling with the carriage.

The air was simply becoming scarcer the closer I got to the outer bailey.

If a soldier couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t fight.

Was that Hedra’s plan? To snatch the air from the lungs of everyone in the outer bailey, then simply walk down and open the gates to the Adlin?

What on earth would that gain her?

Even if she killed every last soldier in both the Night and Daywatch, both she and they would still had to contend with the military forces manning the secondary wall and the entire force of both air and earth witches in the Upper Reaches. Hedra wasn’t a strong enough witch to steal the breath from them all, of that I was sure. She’d die, the Adlin would die, and she would have outed herself as a traitor all for naught.

Or was the plan simply to let the Adlin cause their havoc while she ran back to her queen, as the wind had suggested?

I rounded the last corner and hit the long straight stretch of road that led down to the inner wall. There were guards lining the top of it now, and more struggling to climb the walls. All of them were armed. Normally, the reserve force would only be called out under the direst of circumstances, so what on earth was happening in the outer bailey?

Were Ava and April safe?

I took a deep breath that barely even tickled my throat let alone filled my lungs, and tried to remain calm. I had to concentrate on finding Hedra, on stopping her, if everyone both here and in the outer bailey were to have any chance of halting the larger threat of the Adlin.

I hit the brake as I neared the locked-down inner gates. The carriage slewed sideways for several feet before it came to a shuddering halt. I threw my mask on the seat and then climbed out. Two men and a woman were running toward me, all of them wearing breathing masks. I hoped like hell someone had thought to issue them in the outer bailey.

My own breathing remained short and sharp, but my lungs weren’t burning. The wind stirred just enough air around me to keep me upright even if that fierce vacuum continued.

“Did the lady Hedra come down here sometime in the last half hour or so?” I had to shout to be heard above the noise of the sirens.

“Yes,” the woman—a regular soldier rather than one of the reserves—said. “But she’s caught in the outer bailey.”

“What happens there?”

“We don’t know,” she said, and then motioned toward the Upper Reaches. “You should return to your house, m’lady. It’s not safe here.”

Meaning she hadn’t seen my stain. “I need to get into the outer bailey—”

“There is no way inside,” she said. “The doors are secured and cannot be opened until the all clear is given.”

I swore softly. “Where’s your captain?”

“Up on the wall, but—”

I didn’t wait for the rest of her answer. I just headed for the nearest steps that climbed the steep wall, the wind at my back, feeding me air, telling me to hurry. If the soldiers chased me, I couldn’t hear them.

My lungs were burning when I finally reached the walkway at the top of the inner wall. I ran to the parapet, one hand gripping the nearest merlon as I leaned out.

Below me was chaos. There were soldiers everywhere, but many of them were either on their knees gasping for breath, or unconscious. I couldn’t see either Ava or April amongst those littering the ground, so maybe they’d made it to the wall. Not that it would make them that much safer—not against a wind that was sucking away the air. I scanned the rest of the area but couldn’t see Hedra anywhere. Maybe she was standing in the shadows of this wall.

At least the gates were still closed… but for how much longer if this wind continued to batter them was a question I really didn’t want an answer to.

The wind stirred again, bringing with it the sound of running steps. I glanced to my left and saw several armed soldiers coming toward me. While they’d probably release me the minute they confirmed my identity, every instinct said I couldn’t afford any sort of delay. That if I wanted to stop Hedra and save my friends I had to get down there, into the outer bailey, as soon as I could.

Run, the wind whispered.

Run where? It wasn’t like the wall provided any real choice, given it, like the outer bailey wall, ended with a sheer drop to the sea.

Trust, the wind whispered. Run

I did, even as I wondered at my sanity for doing so. The soldiers behind me shouted at my reaction, and I had no doubt orders were being issued along the line for soldiers to stop me at all costs—and no sooner had that thought crossed my mind when it started to happen. I swore and barreled through a couple of ill-prepared attempts but the farther I got along the line, the harder it became.

Jump, the wind said again.

I glanced over the parapet and the long drop down to the outer bailey. Not on your life.

Or my life, in this case.

Trust, the wind said. No harm will come.

I ducked under the blow of a soldier, and barely avoided the desperate attempts of two others. Rain-slicked skin helped, but for how much longer?

The wind didn’t reply. Instead, she amplified a sound that chilled my heart—a male voice ordering weapons to be fired.

They’d kill me rather than let me get any farther along this wall.

It left me with little choice. I took two steps and leapt high over the parapet.

And hoped like hell the wind kept her promise.