Ash slips his lock-picking tools into the lock, making the faintest clicking sound, and my dad’s head whips up. The moment he sees me, his eyes widen like he can’t believe I’m here. He left me that note; did he not think I would come? But the look of surprise and panic on his face is unmistakable.

My dad shakes his head. “Run!” he mouths without making a sound.

Ash puts away his tools and slowly pulls on the cell door; even at his glacial pace, the metal whines.

And then we hear it—a girl’s scream.

Ash abandons his attempt to be quiet, throwing open the cell door.

“Run!” my dad commands, this time aloud, but before he can get out another word and before Ash and I can set foot in his cell, ten guards rush into the passageway, surrounding us.

Ash and I lift our blowpipes and I grab the lightning poison from my belt.

“I would reconsider if I were you,” says a man’s voice.

The guards part in front of us, making way for an older man with shoulder-length silver hair. Jag. He has the same jaw and nose as my father. His movements are neat and precise, like his black clothes, and he appears to be in no particular rush.

Behind Jag are seven more guards, including the tall bouncer from the pub, who has Ines’s limp body slung over his shoulder. Meanwhile a short, stocky guard holds a knife to Aarya’s throat.

“You look surprised, granddaughter, although I don’t know how you could be,” Jag says, and the word granddaughter hits me like a punch to the gut. His boisterous demeanor from the ball is missing, replaced by a more conservative, almost professorial air. But his charisma is still present—he is a natural leader who doesn’t need to shout but can command you with a mere look. “Did you think I wouldn’t be waiting?”

Suddenly it all makes sense, the lack of guards at the entrance, the clear path to the dungeon. I scan the passageway. We are so vastly outnumbered that fighting isn’t an option; even if Ash and I could hold our own, they would kill Aarya and Ines before we could do anything about it.

“Just kill him, November,” Aarya spits, her anger in sharp contrast to Jag’s comfortable confidence. But even if I were willing to let her and Ines die to attempt it, there’s no good path forward. Throwing my knife isn’t an option. The guards would cut me down before it left my hand.

Jag frowns at Aarya like he’s disappointed. “And I thought we were getting along so nicely these past few days.”