A flash of lightning scoured the room bone-white, and thunder cracked so hard the very walls seemed to groan in protest. My gaze drifted to the window, where the sky wept in sheets of gray, hammering against the glass.

“I have to go,” Amelia said. Her voice, sharp with urgency, sliced through the storm’s cacophony and pulled my attention back to her.

“Now? In this?” I gestured toward the raging tempest. The paths outside were already dissolving into rivers of mud. “Where could you possibly be going?”

“To meet the coin holders,” she said, pulling on her gloves with brisk, efficient movements. “I need to intercept them before they reach the city.”

A familiar knot of anxiety tightened in my gut at the thought of her facing the storm. “Amelia, that’s a dangerous ride. Just… be careful.”

A small, reassuring smile touched her lips, a brief flicker of warmth in the chilled room. “Always. I’ll be back by dawn, I promise. Don’t worry, Thalia. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “Still. I’ll worry.”

“So, what will you be doing while I’m gone?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. “More research?”

I took a breath. “I was thinking of heading to the dungeons. To do some… exploring.”

Her brow furrowed. “The dungeons? Why?”

“I have this feeling—like a loose thread I can’t stop pulling—that they aren’t just lost.”

She nodded slowly, her expression turning grave. “Then you be careful, too.” She opened her arms, and I stepped into her embrace, a brief, grounding moment of warmth. “I have to leave now, or I’ll miss them.”

“Alright,” I said, stepping back. “Be safe.”

She gave a solemn nod, then turned and slipped out the door. The latch clicked shut, leaving me alone with the rhythmic drumming of the rain, each drop a tick of a clock counting down.

Amelia was gone. Now, it was my turn.

With Kaelen also away, my path to the lower levels should be clearer. I just had to avoid any… inconvenient encounters. The maids’ inquisitive glances were one thing, but the guard at the dungeon entrance would be another. Hopefully, a few well-placed coins would buy his silence.

I cast one last look at the storm-lashed window, then slipped out of my room. The hallway greeted me with its usual oppressive grandeur. Soft, magical lights threw sprawling shadows across gleaming marble floors. Priceless artifacts stood like silent, judging sentinels in their alcoves. Every polished surface, every gilded frame, only reinforced the same suffocating truth: this wasn’t a home, it was a cage.

My thoughts were shattered by the frantic scuffing of shoes on marble. Two maids scurried past, heads bowed and eyes averted, pointedly ignoring my existence. Their panicked whispers, however, were impossible to miss.

“Faster,” one hissed. “The Crown Prince has no patience for delays today.”

“I’m trying!” the other whispered back, her voice tight with terror.

They vanished around a corner, their fear a lingering scent in the air. I pressed on, my own footsteps silent on the cold stone. I had made it two corridors down when the murmur of voices echoed from an intersection ahead. My blood turned to ice. I knew that sharp, imperious tone instantly.

Blair.

I melted back into the deep shadows of a marble pillar, holding my breath. I could see her now, her silhouette a knife’s edge against the light, cornering two trembling maids.

“You will learn to hold your tongues,” Blair’s voice was a venomous whisper, “or I will find a use for them. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lady. We are sorry,” one of the maids stammered.

“We cannot have loose talk about what happens down below.”

Down below. The phrase snagged in my mind, a chilling confirmation. The dungeons.

“If I hear so much as a whisper of this again,” Blair’s voice rose, sharp as shattering glass, “both of you will be gone. Am I clear?”

I didn’t wait for their terrified replies. I slipped away down a perpendicular hall. The corridor was empty. I passed one four-way intersection, then another. The silence was a welcome cloak, until the very air began to change. The ambient warmth of the enchanted lights vanished, replaced by a sudden, biting cold. A dark, suffocating current of mana began to seep from the very walls, so dense it felt like drowning. The shadows themselves seemed to writhe.

My stomach plummeted.

Then I saw him. He was simply there, standing paces away, a figure cloaked in shadow and absolute power. My father.

My breath hitched. Instinct, honed by years of terror, took over. I flattened myself against the wall, bowing my head, willing myself to become nothing more than a piece of furniture, a shadow he would overlook.

He walked past. One heavy footstep. Two. The knot of fear in my chest began to loosen. He didn’t see me.

His footsteps stopped.

The silence was a physical weight. Slowly, deliberately, he took one step back. His hard gaze snapped onto me, and it felt like a physical blow.

“I thought,” he began, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the stone floor, “I gave you a simple rule. Do not be seen.”

Words turned to ash in my mouth. My father’s presence consumed all the air, all the light, all the hope in the hall.

“I… I was just going for a walk,” I managed, my gaze fixed on the polished marble. My head was bowed so low I felt the strain in my neck. “I am sorry, Father. It will not happen again,” I whispered.

“Ah, there is the Thalia I know,” he sneered, the contempt in his voice a familiar sting. “Weak. Pathetic. Always scurrying in the shadows. This is precisely why you are forbidden from my sight. I am told you confine yourself to your room… or the library.”

“Yes, Father,” I said, my voice carefully devoid of emotion. “I try to remain where I will not be a bother.”

His cold gaze swept over me, a physical touch that made my skin crawl. Just then, the sharp click of heels on marble announced a new arrival.

“Well, well. Look what the shadows coughed up,” Blair’s voice purred, dripping with malice as she came to a stop beside him. “Little Thalia, out of her cage.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, hating the tremor in my own voice. I risked lifting my head an inch, my eyes still aimed at her elegant shoes. “I just wanted… some air.”

“Thalia.” My father’s voice cut through the air, sharp and final. “Remain in your room. Do you understand?”

I could only manage a frantic nod, my eyes locked on the floor.

“This is your final warning,” he continued, his tone absolute. “Next time, my generosity will have reached its limit. Now, go. Get out of my sight.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. As I fled back down the hall, I heard Blair’s petulant whine. “I wanted to have more fun with her.”

“Do it on your own time,” my father replied, and for the first time, his voice sounded frayed, heavy with an exhaustion that went deeper than weariness.

Their voices faded. I didn’t stop, didn’t breathe, until the heavy oak of my door was closed and locked behind me. The moment the bolt slid home, the strength fled from my limbs. I sagged against the wood, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

A wave of relief washed over me. But it was shallow, quickly replaced by cold suspicion. They had let me go. Too easily. Their minds, their formidable power, were consumed by something far more important than my transgression.

The answer, I was certain, lay hidden in the darkness beneath this palace.

My gaze fell upon the window. The storm raged on, a perfect mirror to the resolve hardening like steel in my veins. My father’s warning meant nothing. Their distraction was my opportunity.

Tonight, I was going to the dungeons.