Small fires burn all over the place, rubble coats the street, and ash drifts from the sky, dusting everything with death. What a fucking mess.

My thoughts of Lor wander to her family and to Nadir, who is also missing. Mael and Lor’s brother, whose name I can’t remember—Tyler?—have been helping around the palace, attempting to subdue the riots and bring order to the chaos.

Her sister—who I am sure now was Apricia’s maid who looked so familiar—hasn’t been around, and I hope she got to safety.

They were obviously trying to find a way into the palace, and I have to admire their cunning, though masquerading as Apricia’s maid was a lot to ask. Maybe they were spying on me too. I can’t really blame them for that. I have so many secrets.

Had. Now everything has been exposed.

I inhale deeply, wincing at the ache in my lungs. When Tyr finally released me from Atlas’s commands, it felt like drawing a proper breath for the first time in a hundred years. Still, it was short relief because . . . well, look at this place. I’ve just exchanged one set of problems for another.

Slowly, I approach the palace doors, dreading what I’ll find inside.

The nobles had no choice but to fight back, some with magic, leaving the scarred evidence on the walls and floors. The mobs didn’t care who they hurt. They only cared for blood. They only cared about making the High Fae hurt. And there are plenty here who deserve every bit of their vengeance.

Inside the palace, I find a scene of destruction: rugs torn up, mirrors smashed, broken glass crackling under my steps, blood covering the walls. I’d expected as much. I just hope Tyr is still safe. I’ll check on him in a moment, but first, I must deal with something.

As my Fae healing catches up with me, my steps become more sure while I proceed through the halls, relieved to find the palace unscathed the deeper I move. I pass my fair share of bodies and avert my eyes—not because the sight of death bothers me, but because I’m not ready to face it yet.

When I reach the entrance of the dungeons, I find it unguarded, and my senses prickle with alarm. Entering the dim stairwell, I circle down into the depths. It’s too quiet. When I arrive at the bottom, everything breathes with the silence of stone. I hear nothing, not even the soft murmurs or the occasional whimpers of the inmates.