“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised you’ve come for her,” Lux drawled, a cruel smile twisting his full lips. “But it’s a shame the four of you will have to die.”

Dacian growled, edging closer to the stairs.

The Dorians stood as a bulwark between us. Lux stiffened; blades at the ready. His mouth opened and my stomach dropped, twisting into terrible, sickened knots at the betrayal I knew was to come—the order for his men to attack.

But it never did.

Lux’s teeth clenched. Then he leapt. He brought his dagger down towards the center soldier, the power of his weight aided by gravity. He buried it to the hilt in the same place Varian had stabbed me with Arachne’s fang. The Dorian crumpled.

That was all the urging Dacian needed. He ended the other three in a blur of bloodstained fur before the Imperials could even process Lux’s treason.

Lux stood before us, blood on his hands. He flashed a grin, Dorian eyes gleaming as blue as the sea. “What now, boss?”

Peleus’s gaze traveled from where Lux stood over the dead Dorian to the carnage Dacian had just added to the room. “Revenge, indeed.”

Lux glanced towards him, eyes widening at the embarrassed cringe he found on Peleus’s face. He lifted his short sword—his dagger still embedded in the Dorian at his feet—and pointed it at the other male’s chest. “You bastard,” he said, incredulous. “You really thought me a traitor.”

Peleus threw his free hand in the air. “Well . . . Yeah . . . But so did he.” He dipped his chin towards Dacian, who sat contentedly licking blood from his paws. His yellow eyes watched the exchange with unabashed amusement. “Don’t blame me for thinking the worst. You weren’t exactly forthcoming about your plans. You just disappeared. And all I knew up until I saw you drive your blade into that poor sot there was what Aidon told us about five minutes ago, which was an ’oh, by the way, I think Lux is maybe still on our side so try not to kill him’.”

Lux’s eyes slid to me. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “Mostly true. But we can hash this out later. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

Dacian stood and stalked back to the stairs, sniffing. The hackles on his back rose. “I feel it too,” I told the wolf. More God-Blooded. And strong, maybe even stronger than the ones we’d just killed.

“How many stand between us and Aurora?”

Lux’s features darkened. “Eight. But you can’t kill them. At least, not all of them.”

“And why can’t we kill them?” Parthenia asked.

Lux looked her over, a brow raised at the too-big armor.

“Yes, yes, she’s a surprise, I know, but she’s proven herself a blood-thirsty little monster,” Peleus explained. “She does have a point . . . Why can’t we kill them?”

Lux lifted his eyes to the ceiling, exasperated. “I swear, Nerina must have absorbed part of your brain in the womb. I would think my presence here would make that glaringly obvious.”

“We can’t kill them,” I began, “because if Lux is the only male we’ve left alive, it gives away the game. The Imperials will know without a doubt that he is still one of us.” I turned back to the Dorian. “Which means you aren’t coming with us.”

He shook his head, shoulders sagging. A hand moved to run through hair that was no longer there. His blond locks had been shorn to match Dorian fashion. Instead, he scrubbed his palm over the short bristles. He was the youngest of us, only thirty-five, which was hardly older than Aurora and her sisters in the God-Blooded’s reckoning. Yet it seemed he’d aged decades in the past few weeks. His skin, normally kissed by the sun, had grown pale and there were dark rings beneath his eyes.

“I want to see my uncle suffer,” he finally answered. “Stealing their strongest Korai isn’t quite enough revenge for me. And . . .” he paused, face reddening. “Well, there is more than just vengeance now.”

Peleus rolled his eyes. “If you say it’s a bloody female, I swear to the gods . . .”

Lux’s eyes dropped to the gore-covered ground. “It’s the youngest Korai.”

“Solara?” Parthenia snorted. “Gods, that girl is as shallow as a puddle. Don’t tell me that you’re going to stay and risk your life over her.”

Lux hardened, his pupils widening for a moment before contracting back to their normal size. “She is what they have raised her to be, Alban. You’d do well to remember that the Korai are slaves to Doria, too. But . . . I can’t explain it,” he said, eyes shifting to me. “You felt what Elysa can do. She did something to you in the Trial, didn’t she? Right before the High Priestess intervened.”

I nodded. With all that had happened in the last day, I’d not had a moment to examine what Elysa had done closely. But it was clear what the dark power in the city was. Clear who had killed Leda and Soren. “It was something similar to what my power does but worse. My power takes life and releases it into the Ether. She was . . .absorbing my life, my magic. It was like she was feeding on me.”

Lux shuddered. “Yes, that’s what I feared. And Solara, she’s been . . . different since Aurora was imprisoned. Diminished, somehow. I’m afraid Elysa might be doing the same to her.”

My grip tightened around my blades. I considered for a moment. “You’ve got to get her out of the city, brother. As soon as you can. Whatever Elysa is up to, you can be certain she isn’t alone. And with their new fleet, war is on the horizon. And Elysa may prove to be a weapon even deadlier than we feared Aurora would be.”

“I know,” Lux said. “Every time Varian has left the city, he’s gone straight to Cyron.”

“To his fleet,” Parthenia said. “And if he is visiting that much, it almost certainly means they are preparing to sail.”

Lux nodded.

My stomach sank. It was worse than I’d feared.

“I hate to be the bearer of even more bad news, boss,” Lux said with a grimace, “but you have another problem. The key to Aurora’s cell isn’t here. Varian took it. No one gets in or out without his permission. Though I must admit, I was surprised that he approved her last visitor.”

“Who.” I demanded.

“Elysa. She’s been here twice. She came with Varian and Solara before the Third Trial. That conversation was apparently unpleasant.”

“That’s when she set the room aflame.”

He nodded. “Elysa came again early this past evening. I thought it unlikely that conversation would be any less disastrous, but Aurora’s been unusually quiet since.”

Dread settled, as heavy as lead in my gut. “I have to get to her. Now.”

Peleus’s eyes were trained on a small barred aperture—so like that tiny window I’d feared would let the sea in during those weeks I’d spent in the dark bowels of the palace. My heart sped at the memory. But then, I saw what he had noticed. The storm outside had slackened, revealing the brightening horizon.

“Yes,” Peleus said, uncharacteristically grim. “We’re out of time.”