When I open my eye again, the feeling has faded. The whispers quiet down, and I pull myself up to sit. Beside me, Violetta is still asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Magiano is nowhere to be seen.

I sit for a while, savoring the silence and the cool recesses of the bathhouse ruins.

Moments later, the leaves high above us rustle, and a figure appears through the holes in the ceiling, blocking out some of the light.

“We need to get you out of Merroutas,” Magiano calls as he hops down. Violetta stirs at his voice. She pushes herself onto her elbows. I watch him, admiring how nimbly he skips from beam to beam until he finally lands on the marble floor in a plume of dust. His hair and face are obscured behind cloth, wet with rain. “Do you know what a mess you’ve made of this city?”

He doesn’t sound very upset about it. “What’s happening?” I ask.

He just grins and shakes water out of his hair. “A wonderful mess, that’s what,” he says. “The White Wolf’s name is on everyone’s lips, and rumors of what happened at the Night King’s court have spread like fire. Everyone wants to know who managed to kill him.” Magiano hesitates here, for the slightest instant. “Not a bad start, my love, although considering that you’re now the most hunted person on this island, you might want to escape. Your stunts have forced the city to seal its port. As you can see, we may have some trouble getting out of here.”

Violetta gives me a look, and I return it without reacting. “Have you heard anything from the Night King’s former mercenaries?”

Magiano undoes the cloth shrouding his face. “I’m sure you’ve earned yourself some enemies after last night. But you’ve also attracted admirers. Look.” He tosses something at me.

It’s a small scroll. “Where did you get this?”

“You don’t think I have connections in this city?” Magiano gives me an indignant scowl, but when I keep waiting, he rolls his eyes. “A friend of mine works down at the ports. He passed it along to me this morning.” He waves impatiently at me to open the message.

I untie the scroll’s string, and the paper unfurls.

My heart races. I turn the paper this way and that, while Violetta looks at Magiano. “But this is useless,” she says. “What ship? Where, when?”

Magiano takes the message from me and rubs the paper between his fingers. “Not useless,” he corrects her. “Hold the paper up to the light.”

Violetta does, moving the paper until it’s directly under a sunbeam. I scoot closer for a better look. It takes me a moment to see what Magiano is talking about—under the light, the paper has a faint watermark on it. It resembles the Night King’s mark, except that the blade cutting through the crescent moon is wide, with a deep blood channel down its center.

“The Double-Edged Sword,” Magiano says. “That’s the name of the ship. It’s a narrow devil of a caravel—it actually looks like a sword, if you squint at it properly. A part of the Night King’s private fleet.”

A part of the Night King’s private fleet. That means that whoever runs that ship must have decided to turn his back on the Night King the instant he heard of his death. Or …

“It could be a trap,” Violetta chimes in, finishing my thought. “How do we know they don’t plan on getting Adelina aboard, only to kill her or drag her before the Night King’s loyal men?”

“We don’t,” Magiano replies. He tosses both of us a bundle of clothes. “But we don’t really have a choice. You both must realize that his loyal mercenaries and soldiers are combing the city right now. Merroutas is a small island. They will find you, if you don’t flee.”

It is only a matter of time before soldiers come searching ruins like these. I rise to my feet, take the message from Violetta, and tuck it inside my head wrap. “If we leave now, how will interested mercenaries find us? How will I round up my men?”

“You’ll figure something out. Send a dove by sea,” Magiano says, crossing his arms. “Now get ready. Think and move at the same time, my loves. I didn’t choose to come along just to get captured. Can you at least cover us in invisibility while we head to the docks?”

“No,” I reply. I’m so tired this morning. Invisibility, already difficult, is the hardest to do in chaotic crowds. There is too much to imitate, and with that image constantly shifting, we would look like moving ripples. We would also bump into others, which would just startle and draw attention. Even with Magiano’s help, we’re better off saving our strength for when we might need it most.

“Fine. Whatever you can do. Even a song and dance would be better than nothing.” Magiano pauses to grin at me. “And I’ve seen you dance, my love.”

I blush and look away. It was the first time I’d ever danced for someone other than Raffaele. “Subtle disguises,” I suggest, pushing his comment out of my mind. “I’ll weave different features across our faces.” He laughs at the color in my cheeks, but seems to decide against teasing me further and instead just motions for us to hurry.

By the time we’re ready and heading into the city, the sun has burned away the gray drizzle and the sky blazes blue.

I ride with Violetta on the same horse. She has pressed herself tightly against me, and her warm, delicate body is trembling slightly. Her attention darts from the busy streets to the buildings and roofs, where soldiers are lined up with swords drawn. The Night King’s blue-and-silver banners still hang from the balconies, but the streets are crowded with confused people and clusters of malfettos. It’s a sight I’m familiar with—people who revere the power of the Young Elites, clashing with those who are calling out about how dangerous they are. Malfettos, hiding in the corners.