In that moment, Amara understood her sister completely.

Getting into the palace was easy. Amara simply followed a crowd of people entering the gates. Twilight had spread, but the lights had not been lit yet, providing a perfect cover for stealing away from the mourners once she was inside the walls. She watched the guards as she walked along the path to the right of the water that flowed down the middle of the courtyard, a couple of steps behind the crowd. There were fewer people than yesterday, most likely those who had waited until now or just arrived in Lux Casta.

Her mother’s map had indicated that noble guests to Palace Levellon were housed on the southern side of the palace on the second floor. It would mean a climb, and she would have to determine which rooms House Maris was located in, but it was doable.

The moment the guards shifted their attention, Amara stepped to the side and silently stole to the first tree. Once she was behind the trunk, she pulled off her outer cloak, stowed it beneath a flowering bush, and pulled on her face scarf and hood.

Using her training, she made her way through the trees that surrounded the palace to the southern side. It was almost night, and with her dark clothes, she blended in with the shadows. Minutes later, lights began to appear over the palace as servants lit candles for the evening.

Amara stayed out of the light and continued on.

Once she reached the southern side, she stopped and studied the palace. There were three sets of windows with decorative railings along the second floor, each connected to a set of guest rooms. She narrowed her eyes. How to go about finding who was housed in each . . .

As if in answer to her question, a man opened the far windows and stood in the opening. She couldn’t make him out in the darkness, so she moved between the trees toward him.

He sighed and leaned across the railing in front of the windows. Her heart beat faster. He had dark hair, like Lord Damien, but that didn’t mean it was him. She had to get closer.

Another man joined him, one with lighter hair pulled back at the nape of his neck.

“How was your time with House Luceras this afternoon?” the second man asked, his voice carrying across the palace lawn.

“Lady Adalyn is crushed,” the first man replied.

Amara crouched behind a set of carefully manicured bushes near the balcony and listened.

“Between my brother’s death, then her mother’s, and now her father’s, she feels all alone.”

“And what about her brothers?”

Amara peeked over the bushes and looked up. She’d seen Lord Damien during the assembly last harvest. He was a strong, handsome man from what she could remember. The young man on the balcony looked almost exactly like him. And the man beside him . . .

Yes. She recognized his guardian. Taelyn, or something. It was Lord Damien.