What if he didn’t want to talk to her? He had to know she’d try to convince him to return to the Invisible Sword. Or what if he thought she wouldn’t, and he was saving himself the pain of another rejection? Or he was truly done with her? She hadn’t even thanked him for helping her!

Seven hells. She’d rather be fighting an Arch Deacon than twisting herself into a giant knot of what-ifs. Eventually she burned through her energy. Putting the sand clock next to the sleeping cushion, she lay down. The blasted thing was so damn comfortable. Would Rendor choose a cushion over her?

A light knocking woke her at angle three-forty. She was halfway to the door before she realized Rendor wouldn’t knock. Her next thought—deacons!—was also dismissed. They’d pound on it or break the door down. Same with the guards. Cautiously, she cracked it open.

A young boy around twelve circuits old stood there. He was a bit grubby but not a vagrant.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’ve a message for you.”

Oh no. Her heart shriveled. “Wait, please.” She grabbed her wrap and covered her hair before letting the boy inside.

He gazed at her. If he noticed her blond eyelashes and eyebrows, he didn’t react. “I’ve been paid to guide you to the surface,” he said. “We should leave now in order to get there by angle zero.”

“Who paid you?” Shyla lowered her shield to read his thoughts. This could be a trap.

“Some big guy. He said to tell you that this is for the best. And for you to stop looking for him.”

The boy told the truth. The desiccated thing in her chest crumbled, leaving behind a huge emptiness.

Shyla had only a vague memory of the trip to the surface. The boy was good at avoiding other people and he didn’t say a word the entire trip. He pointed down a tunnel, said it would lead to an exit, and disappeared.

When she exited the tunnel, she encountered a few others heading toward the surface. She joined them, tagging along near the back. No one gave her a second glance…or even a first glance. But the two deacons standing next to the exit studied each person intently as they passed.

Slowing down, Shyla craned her neck to get a better look at their throats. Scorching hells. One wore a torque. Just her luck. She couldn’t use her magic to slip by them unnoticed. Well…she could for one of them if she had enough energy. A quick plan took shape and she targeted the unprotected deacon, sending an image.

The sun-kissed.

The sun-kissed.