It’s totally ridiculous.

Golden hallways and staircases streak by, all one unmemorable blur. I have no idea how Isolde can remember which way to go, but in just a few moments we’re standing before a door grander than any of the others.

But before I can memorize the look of the gleaming gold inlay or the exact height of the soaring arch it’s set into, Isolde is dragging me into place. “Watch the hall.”

The door boasts an enormous lock, the likes of which I’ve never seen. Isolde has some practice with lock picking, along with a natural light touch, but I can’t imagine she’s ever laid a hand on something as complex as this.

The tightness in my chest loosens just enough that I can whisper, “Sol, why are we here?”

She looks up at me from her crouch and scratches the frame with a fingernail.

“Don’t—” I start, but she’s already scraping gold shavings from under her nails.

“This is gold, Seelie. Real gold.”

I sigh. “Okay, why am I here?”

Ignoring me, she twists her lock picks in the shiny brass opening. “Because it’s the only lock I’ve ever seen that takes four hands to open. Or a special key, but four hands should do it. Which means...?” she prompts, still focused on the lock.

“There’s something very special back there that no one wants us to see,” I mutter, leaning to look around the corner. It’s too far to see what’s on the other side from here, which means if anyone’s coming, we won’t have much time to get out. I try to breathe slowly. To count the seconds. To stay as calm and steady as my sister.

My hands flutter anxiously. We’re totally exposed, with nowhere to run. “What if they have guard dragons?” I blurt, giving my wildest anxiety a voice.

“No such thing,” Isolde says, a pick held between her gritted teeth. “Dragons are fluffy little pets with dulled teeth and clipped wings. Guard dragons are a myth rich people invented to keep poor people from doing—”

Click.

“This,” she finishes triumphantly. The lock springs into place, and I feel my knees go weak with relief...but the door doesn’t open.

“Hold,” Isolde says urgently, her elbows angled awkwardly so I can take hold of the picks. “Exactly like that. Yes, perfect. Don’t move!”

Now I’m staring at the lock, at her hands fitting another smaller set of lock picks between whatever it is I’m holding open, at my shoes, at the shiny floor. My eyes blur a little. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, louder than the Revelnox drums. It feels like someone could spring on me at any moment.

But I stay perfectly still.

A queasy churning in my stomach is making me start to regret those two drinks earlier, but my head is completely clear from the terror of being in here. My palms are sweaty, but I can’t let the lock picks slip.

Then I hear something else: a soft click, click, click—like footsteps, but not quite. Whatever it is, it’s going to be around the corner any second now.