Lena found herself bustled through to the courtyard, her blood racing with adrenaline. All right, they were taking her to the Justice … but maybe that wasn’t so bad. She felt a sudden thrill as she realized she had a kind of power over him. Training. Knowledge. And he didn’t know it—he’d be expecting a defenseless cryptling who’d been hiding in the city. If she could defeat the Justice, finding and releasing Constance should then be easy: The castle would be facing a rebellion without a leader. Who would be watching her?

Can I really do it?

Something about being back in Duke’s Forest made her wish for the safety of her cowl, her small cell, the darkness beneath the city, and the quiet dead. But the dead weren’t quiet anymore, and she couldn’t be a coward. She clenched her fists tightly in preparation for the fight.

The storm cloud was thinner up here. Thick patches roamed the four towers, but in between, swathes of lighter mist danced with shadows. Lena could hear the hounds howling in their kennels on the other side of the courtyard somewhere. The castle looked deserted but for the guards racing around the battlements above: the windows were shuttered, doors firmly bolted. But amid the quiet, Lena noticed disturbing signs: piles of dust scattered at the edges of the courtyard, the smell of rot and bitter herbs stifling her throat—a smell she had grown up with, but not out here, not in the daylight. Rusty swords and armor lay abandoned, and a naked skull peered up from a gutter, leering. The dead had risen here too, and it appeared they had been in a fighting mood. She spotted movement at an upstairs window, the twitch of a heavy curtain. The rich folk had barricaded themselves inside, afraid.

They had rounded the north tower, but now the guard hesitated at the bottom of the steps up to the battlements. A figure was standing very still a few feet away, shrouded in the gloom.

“Hey, who’s there?” the guard called. Real terror showed on his face, but he drew his sword and grabbed Lena’s arm, pulling her behind him. As the cloud passed, the figure disappeared. The guard let go of her quickly, his eyes darting to her birthmark. “Come on,” he said.

He led her up the stairs, but Lena knew someone was out there in the darkness. Watching. And she swore she had felt a small tug in the space below her heart. Was the spell trying to tell her something? She rested her hand on her ribs and looked back, but the figure was long gone.