“Not compared to the humans.” Queen Meilyr had been able to force them all into a single prison, after all. At least those she hadn’t killed first. “How many people live in Spinner’s End?”

She takes her time answering, turning my question over in her head. Likely searching for an ulterior motive. I could reassure her that I don’t mean to escape, but it’s more fun to watch her second-guess my words.

She finally says, “Just over two hundred.”

I frown. Two hundred people, the majority of whom would be soldiers and staff, in a castle that might have once housed four times that. From the courtyard yesterday, I’d noticed that whole sections of the castle had been left untouched by Ronin’s webbing, abandoned to time. They must have been either impossible to restore or unnecessary, given the castle’s small population.

“Most of Lord Ronin’s soldiers are spread out among his various properties and encampments,” she explains. “There isn’t much use for soldiers here at Spinner’s End, when the Dead Wood is all that’s needed to keep intruders out. And prisoners in.”

I make a face at her, but she doesn’t seem to care.

At this hour, with the halls bathed in shadows and the silence and stillness absolute—not even the scratching of mice within the walls—the castle feels truly abandoned. It’s almost like I’m still caught in a dream. Any moment now, hands will reach from the dark to grasp at my ankles. I suppress a shiver at the memory of being yanked down into blackened earth.

Minutes later, I descend the stairs that lead out into the courtyard. Theyen is sitting on the bottom steps, already waiting. Two blazing torches tint his white hair with gold. He wears all black, a simple combination of dark pants and tunic with a modest sash.

He stands at my arrival. “You didn’t bring a weapon.”

I note the curved dagger tucked into his sash. “I assumed we’d be using magic.”

“I should have known you’d need detailed instructions. Invoking your elemental opposite works best with increased danger.”

He addresses my guard in Nuval. I assume he told her to fetch me a weapon because she turns back to the castle. Kendara promised to teach me the language of the shaman empire if I became her apprentice. I haven’t yet lost hope that it could happen.

As Phaut’s footsteps recede, he continues in Evewal, “You can fight without a weapon, I hope?”

“I guess you’ll see,” I say as I join him in the courtyard.

Rolling his shoulders, he says, “The way you move means you’ve had some training. But Evewynian soldiers aren’t trained for true battle—”

My foot strikes his stomach. He staggers. I grin wickedly at the stupefaction on his face. But his surprise lasts only a moment before he retaliates.