This reminds me all too much of the Trials, dangling on a rope over an ocean of sea monsters or maybe hugging to that narrow beam during the gauntlet, nearly falling to my death.

I shake it off. I have things to accomplish.

I don’t have time to indulge in my trauma.

Maybe I’ll have that luxury when this is over, but not today. Nadir needs me.

Mercifully, I go unnoticed as I shimmy to the bottom and drop onto the puddled balcony with a slap. Once I’m safely standing, I peer over the edge again, thankful I didn’t end up as food for the churning ocean.

The balcony sits off a small room lined with bookshelves, and I tiptoe across it and ease the door open, leaving a trail of wet footprints. I wipe them on a rug near the door before I poke my head into the quiet hallway, looking left and right, scanning for guards. If I’d had more time, I would have made an effort to understand the details of Cyan’s security, but the clock on Nadir’s life is winding down and this is yet another luxury I can’t afford.

Thankfully, they seem occupied with the storm, so maybe it did me a favor.

Recognizing the hall as the same one we walked down previously, I turn left and set off perched on my tiptoes so I don’t make a sound. Even with the storm’s cacophony, the instinct to keep quiet is impossible to ignore.

I pray again that Bain keeps up his end of our meeting.

I enter the throne room to find everything cast in a soft blue glow from the massive water tank. The air is still, suggesting some type of barrier must be in place to keep the wind and rain out.

My breath expands with relief when I see Bain staring up at Coral with his hands clasped behind his back.

I scurry towards him, and he turns at my approach.

“Lor,” he says warmly, giving me a kind smile, and guilt twists in my chest. But I won’t hurt him or anyone else. I just need to talk to Coral. Surely that isn’t a crime. I ignore the reproving voice reminding me that I also plan to rob Cyan if I get the information I need.

“Hi,” I say. “We ready?”

Bain’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re sure you can talk to her?”

“I’m sure,” I say.

I’m not completely sure, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He scans me up and down, his eyebrows crumpling.

“Why are you wet?”

He didn’t ask who I was earlier, which is curious. He had to have seen West and North trailing me. He saw me with Cyan. Either he doesn’t care, or he’s oblivious. If it’s the second, I probably should keep my current not-so-trusting relationship with his son to myself.