With quiet, clipped words, Aurora answered, “He did not used to be one. His name is Taven, and he’s…”

She glanced around the corner to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, and her stomach sank.

Taven was gone.

Aurora cursed and entered the alley, scanning again and again for where he might have gone, but she could see no avenue for escape. She pushed her fingers into her temples, a sudden ache unfurling in her head.

“No need to look so lost, novie.”

Aurora turned around to face Jinx, and found the witch standing beside the entrance to an old storm shelter, overgrown with moss and weeds. As she watched, the witch bent down, and in one sweeping motion, tore the greenery away from the shelter door. It came up in one large sheet, like a blanket, and Jinx dropped it to the ground, her nose wrinkling.

“I didn’t even need my magic to tell those plants weren’t real. They’re little more than cloth counterfeits.”

And sure enough, now that the greenery had been removed, Aurora could tell that the shelter door had brand-new hinges. She darted forward, kneeling by the door and pressing her ear down against it.

She heard the breeze whistling around them, the rumble of thunder in the distance, but no sound from within the shelter. She sat back on her heels, and looked up at Jinx.

“What do you want to do?” her friend asked.

The smart thing would be to wait and watch for Taven to leave. But a storm was rolling in, the thunder coming more frequently by the second. She could feel it. The air was humid and thick. But more than that, an uneasy feeling scraped up the back of her neck, and something dark and oppressive lurked just past her shields.

What if something happened and they lost him? Or he did not come out until the storm passed? She was not sure she could handle another day without knowing what had happened to Pavan in her absence. The uncertainty of that combined with her anxieties over revealing her secrets to Kiran were too much to contemplate.

A creak sounded, and Aurora looked over to see a grinning Jinx holding the shelter door open enough to peek inside. The witch shrugged and gestured for Aurora to join her.

Aurora quickly ducked her head near the opening. It was pitch-black inside. The sliver of light from the crack revealed the top rungs of a ladder, but it was swallowed up by the dark before they could see the bottom. Aurora could hear voices. A woman—her voice smooth and rich with an edge of command. A man’s voice echoed a moment later, but she could not discern the words, only the muted sounds.