Twelve’s thoughts had been muddled, chaotic, but, when Victory mentioned Silver, they settled with a cold, crystal clarity.

“Don’t talk about Silver,” Twelve spat. “Her name does not belong in your mouth. You murdered her. I’m nothing like you.”

A look something like hurt passed across Victory’s face before a great crash made her spin on her seat.

“Careful, you idiots!” she cried. “It took years to make all those.” Two of the hurrying goblins had dropped the crate they were carrying. Its contents spilled out, rolled across the floor toward Twelve and Victory. Arrows, hundreds of them. One came to a stop against Twelve’s foot and she peered down at it, a frown on her brow.

The shaft was made of very dark wood, a slice of night against the floor. And the fletching was bat wing.

Twelve jerked away from it with all her might, almost tipping her chair over in the process. Horror coursed through her. She hadn’t seen one of these since her last night in Poa. What did it mean?

Slowly, Twelve’s thoughts ordered themselves.

Victory and the goblins were making arrows—perfect imitations of the cave clan’s distinctive design. The exact design she had seen in every arrow in every body of every person killed in her village. Her mother. Her father. Her sister. All slain by these very arrows. She’d been able to examine them in great detail.

After all, it had taken her a long time to bury all those bodies.

Breathing felt very difficult and ice crept down Twelve’s spine. Everyone blamed the cave clan for the massacre of her village, because of those arrows. She blamed the cave clan.

But was it possible that her family’s killer was right in front of her?

Chapter

Forty-One

“Was it you?” Twelve gasped, her voice cracking. “Did you attack Poa?”

“Ah.” Victory frowned, her gaze flicked from the arrow to Twelve and back again. “This is . . . unfortunate. I was planning on telling you a little later, when you’d see the whole picture more fully. Understand everything a little better.”

A sob of horror broke from Twelve’s lips. “No.”

“You have no idea of the shock you gave me when you first arrived here and I discovered where you were from,” Victory said, sounding almost apologetic. “I thought you’d seen something and come to make trouble. I should have trusted myself; we’re always extremely thorough.”

Twelve was fighting against the ropes binding her, all her fear and pain forgotten. The only thing that mattered was feeling her fingers wrapped around Victory’s throat.

The Hunter watched her.