“Wait,” she said, the words more like a gasp. They slowed to a stop as they neared the center of the palace. Through the next archway, they would be in the Great Dome, and it would be much harder to conceal their presence if any soldiers were about. The official entrance to the dungeons was where the dome met the south wing, where most of the military was housed and organized. But Aurora knew a second passage existed in the Hall of the Ancestors near the stairs that led up to the back of the ballroom. Neither seemed like a safe avenue, but they were the only options.

She checked her hood and mask, making certain she was as covered as possible, then she sidled closer to the archway. She could hear a commotion, shouting and the slamming of boots against the ground, and then … the clash of swords.

She hesitated. That had to be the rebellion. They’d been found, perhaps surrounded. Kiran could be in danger; Ransom too. Aurora took one step toward the fighting, but Jinx pulled hard on her elbow.

“No. They can handle themselves, and we need the diversion.”

Her friend was right, but the metallic clang of sword against sword reverberated inside Aurora’s skull, and she did not know how to walk away.

“What happens to the rebellion if you’re caught today?” Jinx asked. “Your mother will never be free, nor will your friend. You’ll be used as a pawn to quiet the malcontents, and—”

Aurora had heard enough. She never wanted to be anyone’s pawn, not ever again. So she ignored the pull she felt to the fighting at the front of the dome, and instead darted out from the archway and toward the servant’s halls used to serve the ballroom during large events.

Her shoulders bunched tight, and her head ached from her clenching teeth. She kept waiting for a disruptive noise, a loud voice, some signal that they’d been seen, that the fight had moved their way, but Jinx was right. The fighting gave them the perfect diversion. The more steps she took, the farther away the voices drifted, and soon she had rounded a corner and pushed through a door into the servant’s hallway. It too was empty, so she took the opportunity to run, covering the narrow, dimly lit space in a dozen long strides.

She must have held her breath nearly the entire way, because Aurora was dizzy by the time she stepped into the ornate hall that housed paintings and sculptures of her Stormling ancestors. There were two golden altars to the goddess on each side of the room, but they were small, and more like decorative antiques in comparison to the monstrously elaborate and expensive pieces that had been commissioned for her ancestors. Aurora fixed her eyes on the far altar, a tumble of confusing emotions sluicing through her belly at the sight.