She left the carriages and the lamplight behind and walked toward the towers, out onto the causeway with the statues. At such a height, the wind usually tugged and moaned at all hours but there was no wind at all, only stillness, as if a hand had settled down over the world before it crushed all life. The sheer cliffs on either side seemed even more terrifying than they had yesterday, hungrier, waiting for someone to stumble off and fall to their death. She nodded to each statue as she passed—the winged eagle captain, the rat soldier, the tiger woman, the ram-headed man—as if by this courtesy they would pardon her transgression, spare her from the torque of whatever sorcery lingered in these towers. Not wake suddenly to attack her.

The statue of the handsome man holding the dragon’s head was gone.

Gone.

Stone could not walk. But haunts could walk here, at the Spires, on a moon-bright night.

Let me borrow the youth who sleeps beside you.

Sick fear shook through her. What if the prince had commanded Kem to escort him into the Spires? She swayed on legs suddenly too weak to hold her up. Sweat broke on her body. A cloud of darkness smeared her vision. She should have told Kem the truth. Now she would lose him because she hadn’t trusted him. It was all her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her whole life pitched and rolled, torn off its axis. In the distance, a bell’s heavy tone reverberated in the air, setting her pulse racing. Its resonant call rippled across the promontory until, dizzied, she staggered a step sideways, closer to the edge.

Digging her knuckles into her eyes, she fought back. She breathed. She steadied herself. She knew how to do this. She had to do this, to hold fast, to face the fear, to keep walking forward because she had no choice.

A shout carried from behind the dark arch that led through the wall and into the ancient compound. Was that Kem’s cry from inside the courtyard? Was it too late? Had he been taken? She froze, as if the surrounding statues had grasped her with invisible bands and held her tight.

People appeared, stumbling down the stone staircase. There were four. One was a grotesque, multi-limbed figure, a person in the throes of transforming into a Spore-ridden monster. Where was Kem?

They came clear of the wall’s shadow and into the light of the full moon to reveal five people, not four. The big, strapping menial was carrying the prince in his arms as easily as one carried a sleeping child.

Kem walked in the lead alongside Ipis, showing no sign of injury. But why would he show any sign of injury if he had already been taken by the haunt?

“Kem, are you all right? What happened?”