The Fortress is perched on a peak overlooking Leiden. Its gray stone and rounded towers stand in sharp contrast to the movement and color of the glass in the town below. My legs ache as we climb the rough, uneven staircase set into the hillside. The morning is bracingly cold, and my breath precedes me, billowing from my mouth with each labored breath.

Bram hikes wordlessly at my side. A pressure builds between us that feels thick enough to touch. Talon and Tessa are in the front of the pack, talking animatedly about what kind of challenge might be waiting for us today. Tessa keeps throwing glances over her shoulder. We haven’t had a private moment to talk since Bram and I snuck out of the glassblowers’ workshop, and I know she’s anxious to hear about what happened with Avalina. Jacey and Niklas walk several paces behind, and though I can hear the low rumble of voices, their conversation is too quiet to make out. Rasmus follows closer than usual, as if making a point to remind me of his presence.

Finally we reach the top of the hill. The Fortress is protected by an elaborate gate with rails that look like delicate thorn-studded vines, each stretching upward until it curls into a spiral at the top. I would assume the gate was made from wrought iron if not for its pale color. Such elegant beauty seems completely out of place in front of this severe structure.

I reach out to stroke one of the vines, when a throat clears behind me. I yank my hand back and turn to see a Watcher, who seemingly appeared from nowhere. Her hair is completely gray and hangs in a long braid behind her back.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” she says. “The thorns are filled with poison.”

I take a step back and shove my hands into the pockets of my cloak.

“Whoa,” Talon says beneath his breath. “That’s one way to ruin a day.”

“Welcome to the Fortress,” the Watcher says, spreading her arms wide, as if we’ve arrived for a garden party. “I hope you came prepared.” The words are tinged with a warning—maybe even a hint of menace—and our team exchanges nervous glances. How can we prepare when we have no idea what to expect?

The Watcher makes a circle in the air with her hand, and the gate swings open. We follow her toward the front of the Fortress, but before we reach the entrance, she makes a sharp turn to the right and leads us to a steep, narrow stairwell that plunges so low, it could only lead to the dungeon level.

At the top of the steps, she turns to Rasmus. “Stay here. You won’t be accompanying the apprentices below.”

Normally, I would welcome the break from Rasmus’s watchful gaze, but the look of alarm that crosses his expression sends a chill through me.