A chill dripped slowly down the back of my neck, turning every muscle to ice. He continued, “In it are instructions to destroy your outposts for ten miles in every direction and to leave no survivors but one, who will be sent back here as proof that my order has been carried out.”

My breath slipped in and out quick as a wingbeat, my jaw aching from clenching it so tight.

“Say whatever you’d like to me, Princess. Snap and curse and insult until your throat is raw. But remember why I’m here. Remember there’s an army sitting on your border full of soldiers who have been trained to do one thing their entire life: kill.”

The word echoed with promise. He was playing with me, trying to make me feel powerless. It worked. The situation felt slippery, out of my control.

He left the letter on the table and stood. “We leave for Illucia the day after tomorrow,” he said and stalked back inside. His presence lingered, the space he’d occupied as solid as if he were still there.

I sent a servant to Caliza to convey the news of my imminent departure and Ericen’s threat. Then I ordered the letter burned. Only once every fragment had turned to ash did I go upstairs.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep. Ericen’s threat had followed me upstairs and draped itself across my shoulders, whispering promises of burning towers and bloodstained earth.

Tomorrow. I had tomorrow, and then we left for Illucia.

I knelt before my armoire, the egg cradled in my lap, my fingers skimming along the shell. Its soft humming gave me little comfort in the face of everything that stood before me.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow was my mother’s birthday. Or would have been. Now it was my last chance. There was no guarantee I could hatch the egg, so we couldn’t risk denying Razel. But if I could figure out a way to hatch it before I left, I wouldn’t be forced to leave tomorrow for Illucia, the spoils of a phantom war.

There had to be a way.

Tucking the egg away, I dressed in boots and a cloak before slipping out of my room. The hallways were quiet, the sona lamps burning low against the darkness. I plucked one carefully off the wall, holding it at arm’s length as I traced my way to the nearest stairway leading to the upper levels. Moonlight poured in through massive windows, illuminating the stairwell and revealing dust and cobwebs thick as my hair.

I stepped out two floors up. The stone walls were bare, the hallways empty. Any art and furniture had been relocated to the bottom floors or sold. My footsteps echoed in the unfilled space, trailing me like ghosts. A shiver trickled down my spine, and I held the sona lamp higher.