Elora meets me in the same dining chamber, only this time, there's no food. Before my arrival, I was bathed, fed, and poked in an intrusive manner that reminded me of the way Cadence and I would play with our dolls when we were younger. It was a different maid this time—one less gentle and who wouldn't speak. I couldn't help but wonder if she was one of the ones Elex mentioned who had their tongues cut off.

When the guard arrived to lead me through the castle, I'd prayed I was being taken to the healer again. But it's Elora who stands before me in a long, navy gown, her hair pinned back in an intricate braid that wraps around the crown of her head. She rolls her shoulders back as I enter the room and force myself not to fidget beneath her piercing stare.

Her eyes rake down the length of my body, slightly displeased as she takes me in. The corset is looser today, my hair half fallen out from my irritated tugging of the pins. "It seems I need a word with your maid."

I try not to grimace. "I'm not so used to your customs."

"I can see that."

She paces across the room. It's only the two of us inside, to my disappointment. I haven't seen Casimir or Elex since yesterday, Killian since last night. But I keep my expression straight, even as the tension coils in my stomach as she stops just inches away.

"I would like to make you an offer," she says. "In exchange for the boy."

"You mean Samu?" My heart thuds at her curt nod. "So he is here?"

I never allowed myself to think about the prospect that after all this, he might not be alive. But while nobody ever confirmed his death, no one has ever confirmed that he's alive, either. Until now.

My next breath feels lighter. I step towards her, all fear of the monster beneath her mask evaporating. "I'll do anything. Please. Just tell me what to do."

"I thought you might say that." Each second she stares at me feels like an hour. "If you prove to be helpful, you can see the boy."

"What could you possibly want from me?"

"Tell me all you know about the hyacerite."

"Hyacerite?" It sounds like a different language. I can't quite mimic the intonation in her voice. "I... I've never heard that word before."

"Don't play coy with me, child."

"I'm not. I don't know what you mean."

She raises a finger to trace along the line of my jaw, her sharp nail piercing my skin. I suck in a breath of air, deadly still as her nail drags down my neck, across my collarbones. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Freya." She says my name like it tastes sour, her expression distant. "Be honest with me."

"I don't know what you're—"

She slaps me, hard. The force of the blow sends me to the floor, the blood in my cheek burning. I hold my face, leaning back to look up at her in horror. Elora stands over me, expression stoic as she inspects her wrinkled hand.

She looks frail, human, and weak. But the force of her blow warns of the animal lingering beneath her skin.

"Get up," she demands.

I push to my feet, eyes stinging. The dagger Killian gave me is heavy against my thigh, my hand itches for the comfort of its leather hilt. But I force myself to meet Elora's eye, my hands at my sides, quivering uncontrollably.

"I do not enjoy this, Freya. But it is so difficult when you refuse to cooperate."

Hatred burns through my body as I stare at her, right from my aching cheek all the way to my toes, a constant thrum of energy. I hate this woman. I hate King Ereon. I hate the shifters.

She paces the room, each step calculated. Her small frame barely takes up any space, the top of her spine pokes through her skin as she turns her back to me—an indication that I am of not threat to her. She stops in front of the window, leaning against the windowsill.

"I don't trust your kind," she says, "and I certainly do not trust you. You think I am so foolish to believe that you are here only for that orphan boy?"

Her words mull over in my mind, but I can't seem to conjure up a response. My face burns with the sting of her slap. I shouldn't have been so surprised by it, I know who she is, what she is, and yet, words won't come.

"Think of your dear brother, is he worth more than whoever you think you're protecting by refusing me?" She turns then, gaze cutting through the large distance between us. "You'd do well to respond to me."

"I'm telling the truth. I'm not trying to protect anybody."

Tension coils in my neck as I wait for the blow. She could be across the room before I could even blink, striking me. But she only narrows her eyes.

"Where were you when your brother was taken?"

"My father told me to hide."

"Inside the house?"

"In the wardrobe."

"And you didn't try to stop them from taking him." I flinch at the condescending tone. "And yet here you are now. Why?"

"I-I just want my brother back."

"You let them take him."

"No, I—"

"Why did you hide, Freya? Why didn't you try to stop them?"

"I was scared."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't know what you want from me," I say, desperate. "I'm telling the truth. I think about that night every single day. I wish I tried to stop them, but if I had I probably would've been killed by those shifters."

"Tsk. It's as if you were raised by a horse. Such a terribly ill-mannered girl."

My anger flares at the insult to my father. "You speak to me of manners and yet you're the ones who murdered my father in cold blood."

I see the slap coming this time, early enough that I'm able to turn my head slightly so her fingers merely graze my cheek. But before the feeling of satisfaction wins me over, she has a grip on my arm, her nails digging into the skin. I let out a cry at the sharp pain as she pulls me to her, so close I can smell the sickly scent of perfume on her skin, mixed with perspiration.

"Careful," she hisses.

Her gaze pierces my skin as deeply as her nails, filling my stomach with terror. There's a power in her grip, her words, but those eyes—there's no mercy, no empathy, no humanity. I can see that beneath the skin, she's the kind of monster who haunts my dreams.

After a few seconds, she drops my hand and steps away, still staring. "There will be a ball tomorrow night to... present you to Elel." Her careful choice of words set off alarm bells in my head. Like I'm the key player in a game I do not understand. "I should hope you present yourself better than this."

She examines her hand, wrinkling her nose at the red beneath her nails. My blood.

I turn to go, clutching at my arm. Her grip broke skin, blood speckling the crescent moon indents. "And Freya?" I turn to look over my shoulder. "If you ever want to see your brother again, you should consider dropping the act. We know the truth."

#

The healer is waiting for me in the same room as before, a kit laid out on the table. I sink into the chair, clutching my arm. It stings, but no more than my cheek, the remnants of Elora's fingers still imprinted on the skin.

She wanted to scare me into telling the truth, a truth that I do not have. But all it did was fuel my hate for her. For them.

"Good afternoon, Miss Raune," the healer greets, voice croaky. "Give me your hand."

I don't want him to touch me, but fearing the repercussions of Casimir seeing my arm as it is, I do so without a word, zoning out as he tends to the broken skin, his fingers gentle. Nausea churns in my stomach at his touch. Though he was kind before, he is one of them. He's like Elora—a monster brewing beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to attack.

"Elora can be... impulsive," he says, voice wavering slightly when I flinch away from him. "She has a short temper."

"Do you claim to be so different?"

He looks up to me, shaky fingers pushing his glasses up his nose. "We want the same things, yes, but our methods of extraction tend to differ."

"And what are your methods?" He doesn't answer me, looking back down at my arm. "I can't give her what she wants."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what she's talking about. She thinks... she thinks I have a secret, that I'm protecting someone."

"And you claim that to be untrue?"

"The only person I want to protect is my brother."

He looks away from me, placing the bloodied tissues atop his desk above the bin. Turning his back, he rifles through the drawer. I fold my leg over the other, drawing my arm back towards me. The healer placed a bandage around the marks, but what state my cheek is in—I don't know.

"I have something for your leg."

The healer's eyes are on the healing marks, scabbed over around my ankle. I shift self-consciously so the skirt falls to cover them. "It's already healing."

He rifles through the drawer. "Let me give you a salve. It should reduce scarring," he says, pulling out a small silver container. I give in, stretching my leg out so he can access my ankle. The skin is pinched, mostly scabbed over, the hacked marks starting to give way to fresh, mangled skin.

The salve is cold against the skin, but it doesn't hurt as he spreads it. His gentle touch, grey hair, spectacles—they remind me so much of my father I force myself to look away.

"Did something fall on you during this storm?"

"No."

"These are peculiar cuts," he observes, furrowing his brows. "What kind of storm was it, did you mention?"

I stare at the ground, the different greys of the stones creating a textured floor. When I blink, it's so clear in my mind—the memory of that night, of my father's voice, of the excruciating pain as the shifter's teeth pierced the skin of my ankle. But my delusions don't match the reality of what happened.

"Like a tornado of some sort," I murmur, repeating what Killian said to me. "It didn't last long, merely an hour. But it destroyed so much of the village and yet..."

He pauses when I don't continue, looking up at me. "And yet?"

"When I went into the storm, it was deathly calm."

"And that's when you got these cuts?" he pushes. I nod. He doesn't say anything more, putting the cap back on the salve container and placing it back in the draw. "And you are from Veymaw?"

I don't respond, wrapping an arm across my chest. They already know where I'm from, and yet, the idea that I could potentially reveal aspects of my life—Cadence, Jakob, Casimir—to the shifters, and put them in danger, sends ice through my veins.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" I ask him. "Like Elora?"

He pauses to meet my eye. There's something strange about the way he looks at me. It's must softer than Elora's harsh gaze, but occasional flashes of ice pierce through the warmth. I can't see through what is a mask and what is real.

"I think you have many secrets you keep close to your heart," he says finally. "And you do not realise the grave consequences of doing so."

My immediate thought is of the deserters, and my heartrate spikes. Do they know I didn't come here alone? I force myself to keep a straight expression.

"Have you ever left the Elel mountains?" I ask.

He chuckles. "I am very old, Miss Raune. In my youth, I travelled the entirety of Elel. But now I must remain in the Palace."

"Why?" I ask. "Why do the shifters only leave the mountains on the night of the Red Moon aside from the councillors?" He turns to pack up his kit. "What about the King? Why has he never greeted his subjects?"

"It is time for me to retire," he says, sharply. "I shall see you at the ball tomorrow evening."

He raises to his feet and nods at the guard in the corner of the room. I stand, watching as the healer exits.

_

I leave the balcony door open for Killian all afternoon, but it's only when the sky has darkened that he appears in the doorway, shaking his boots of snow and the hood from his head. His arrival startles me from my thoughts, presence filling the room with warmth, despite the icy temperature.

"It's freezing in here," he says, not bothering to remove his cape. "Did you leave the doors open?"

"I didn't realise how much time had passed."

For hours I've spent ruminating, my stomach a pit of anxiety as I thought about Elora and what she said, what she did. They treat me with kindness, house me in an extravagant room, dress me like a doll—but I am no friend of theirs. I'm merely a pawn kept polished in a game that I do not know the rules of.

Before Killian can respond, Casimir steps through, Elex clambering over the railing after him. I shove to my feet, the wooden chair legs dragging across the ground, and rush over to meet Cas, scanning his face for injuries as he fiddles with the button at his neck. His blonde hair is a ruffled mess, cheeks pink from the cold, but he remains unscathed.

"You're okay," I murmur, pulling him close to wrap my arms around my waist. He reciprocates the hug, resting his head atop my chin. "What's going on?" I ask, pulling back.

He looks over my shoulder to survey the room as Elex comes in, cussing the snow under his breath.

"We're running a little ahead of schedule, actually," he says. "We just need to talk logistics for tomorrow night."

"What's happening tomorrow night?" I ask.

"You haven't heard?" Killian asks. He leans lazily against the bedpost, raising his eyebrows at me. "A ball is being thrown in your honour."

"I know about the ball. But what does that have to do with any of you?"

Elex and Casimir exchange confused glances. "You didn't tell her yet?" Casimir asks Killian.

"My apologies," he says dryly, "I should've told her in the span of the three seconds I arrived before you."

Casimir's jaw tightens, but before he can retort, I open my mouth. "Tell me what?"

Killian pushes off the bedpost, moving to stand closer. "We have to be out of here by tomorrow night."

First, there's relief—a brief reprieve from the fear pulsing through my veins from living inside this icy castle. Then, panic. "Trina said I had a week. It's only been a few days."

"We manage to set up the extuit earlier, and the ball is the perfect chance to set it off and get out of here undetected."

"The extuit?"

"Boom," Elex whispers, miming an explosion with his hands.

"You're going to cause an explosion?"

"Shhh," he hushes, glancing to the door. "That's precisely why we have to be out of here when it does—"

"No, I can't leave yet. It's too—"

"Calm down, Frey." Casimir puts hand on my shoulder. "You know I wouldn't leave without Samu. We're going to get him out."

"But how?"

"I might know where he is," Killian says.

I spin so fast my neck twinges. "And you didn't think to start with that?"

"Need I remind everybody here that only so much can be said in the span of three seconds?" He raises a brow. "Yes, I know where your brother is being kept."

He spreads the blueprints over the desk. I march over to it, peering over Killian's shoulder as he gestures to the prisons beneath the castle. "There's a network of tunnels down here connecting to the ones we came in through," he says.

"And you think Samu is down there?"

"I've heard rumours of a human boy, more than once." He offers me a grin. "The guards aren't so tight-lipped after a few drinks."

I look over my shoulder to Casimir and Elex, standing side by side. Casimir nods reassuringly. He may not like Killian, but he does trust him. I trust him.

"How do we get there and when can we go?" I turn to look at him when he doesn't respond. "Killian?"

His eyes are trained to my wrist, eyebrows pulled together. "What happened to your arm?"

I tug my sleeve down to cover the bandage. "It's nothing."

But Casimir has already heard it. He strides over to us, taking my arm from me and holding it up so the sleeves fall, revealing the bandage the healer wrapped around the nail marks. His gaze darkens as he looks at my face.

"What happened?" he demands.

"It's nothing."

"It's clearly not nothing."

"It was just a scratch."

His jaw tenses as we stare at each other, neither one willing to relent. A war wages in his eyes as they dart from my face to my arm. I pull it from his grip, covering it with my sleeve again.

"Was it that woman? The King's advisor?" When I nod, his eyes blaze. "I'll kill her."

"Stop it, Casimir. I've had worse wounds from training with you."

"I'm curious," Elex says, stepping in between us and peering at my wrist. "Why treat you with such hospitality, clothing you and bathing you and feeding you if they only wish to harm you?"

"For the same reason they keep Samu alive in the dingy underground prisons," Casimir says lowly.

"I think it's something else." They all stare at me. "She... she wanted something from me. She tried to make a deal."

"A deal?" Killian asks, narrowing his eyes.

"She said if I helped her, gave her what she wanted, she'd release Samu."

"And what did she want?"

"Information. And when I told her I didn't know what she was talking about, she got angry, saying that whoever I was protecting wasn't worth it." I shake my head. "She thinks I know something I don't."

"Did she say anything else?" Elex asks.

"She mentioned the hyacerite." I try to mimic the way she spoke the word.

Killian's gaze remains on my face, unwavering. "And she said if you told her about all this, she'd give your brother back?"

"You don't believe her?"

"I don't believe a word anyone says in this place."

"It doesn't matter anyway." I sink into the seat. "I don't know anything about the hyacerite. Do you?" They all shake their heads. "We have to get Samu another way."

"We will," Elex says. "Tomorrow night, during the ball. The perfect distraction. We can use this. If you lead Elora into believing you will cooperate, it may secure your safety for the short term and buy us some time."

"But I have no idea what she's talking about."

"Tell her you won't speak to her. Only the King," Killian says. "Draw him out so he's there too. That will buy time and ensure he's caught in the crossfire."

I take a shaky breath, wiping my hands on the skirt of my dress. "Okay," I force a nod. "What's the rest of the plan?"

"It's very important that you listen carefully, Freya. We can't risk any mistakes."

I nod as he launches into a detailed description, letting Casimir explain the timing of the bombs. There are two—the first will go off in the ballroom, when all the guests are there—I'll be gone at that point, with Killian, heading towards the prisons just in time for the second one to go off, giving us time to escape with Samu through the tunnels.

An hour has passed by the time we've finished discussing the details. Every second is etched into my skin like a reminder as Elex's words rest in my mind.

We can't risk any mistakes.

~

Discussion:

What are your theories about what the shifters think Freya is hiding? I'm so curious.

Who is your favourite character?

What do you think might happen next?