My heart gives a leap. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Whispers needed the Knife of Memory. I knew you’d left with him to find me. Esteban helped, using his magics to peer into the minds of strangers to listen to your conversations. I’d persuaded the servants to tell me everything they knew about you. I knew you wouldn’t give up your search for me, and so I left that message and waited for your next move.”
“To Little Luzou,” Leo says.
“But you got there first,” Castian says, watching his brother carefully.
“With Cebrián’s tactics, we had access to horses.”
An uneasy sensation moves under my skin. Cebrián’s tactics. “If you wanted the Knife, Dez, why did you try to stop me from leaving on the ship? Was that just to bring me back to the Whispers? To put me on another trial?”
“Of course not, Ren. Cebrián.” Dez says the name like a curse. “He told me that Robári who successfully use the weapon become Hollows, but he’d survived it and claimed he could do it again without having to sacrifice you. I was supposed to join you in retrieving the Knife and then take it from you. But seeing you together—” He stops abruptly, taking the bottle back. “I messed up.”
I process his words slowly. He would have joined us. He would have been on that island, shared in our meals, and then taken the Knife from me. He would have made a fool of me. My anger bleeds to the surface. “You would rather Cebrián wield the power and destroy the entire kingdom?”
“You did it for them.” Dez shouts my hypocrisy. “Perhaps Castian would have let you die, but I was trying to save you.”
“I don’t have to let Nati do anything,” Cas says as he snatches the bottle. If he grips the glass any tighter, it’ll shatter. “It was her choice.”
“Stop,” I whisper, and rest my hand on his shoulder. Almost instantly, Cas’s anger breaks.
Dez shuts his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “You could have chosen anyone—there are millions of people in this entire wretched kingdom—but you chose him. You watched him kill me. How long did you wait, Ren? A day? A week? Do you know what it felt like seeing you in that forest, or seeing you in that crowd trying to reach me, and realizing the pain I was going to cause you?”
I snap my gaze to him. I always wondered whether he’d seen me running toward him. I swallow the emotion in my throat. “I—”
“Did you even mourn me?”
I shove my finger in his chest. “I remember that moment every day, Dez. Of course I mourned you. I’m still mourning you because when you had the chance, you left me.”
“I came back.” Dez wipes at a single tear rolling down his cheek. “But you weren’t there. You were with him. The Whispers still needed me. Margo and I picked up what was left of us, and then Cebrián came to us.”
“It’s done, Dez.”
Castian leans his head back against the brick wall and shuts his eyes. Leo practically feeds him wine like a baby bird. The princes of the realm, the dissidents, the rebels. The boys who have my heart. And they’re all fools—and I’m a fool right along with them because I love them in different ways. All three of them.
We wait, listening to the chitter of mice, the groans of the old estate. I shut my eyes and imagine what it would be like to simply rest. Leo nudges closer to me and I rest my head on his shoulder as he draws shapes in the dirt with the sturdier wood chips.
“What do we do now?” he asks.
“Cebrián is going to use the Whispers as cannon fodder so he can get his revenge,” I say, sick with disgust.
“And we’re locked in here,” Cas whispers. He and Dez run their hands through their hair, then huff a sigh at the exact same time.
Leo leans in and whispers, “I see it now.”
“You don’t see anything,” Dez barks, and yanks the bottle from Castian, who crosses his arms over his chest and stews.
“Fernando will be prepared,” I say.
“Don’t worry,” Dez says. “Cebrián will have another Illusionári disguised as Castian to get through the gates.”
Castian sits up suddenly. “Wait—my father already knows that I’m not being held captive.”
Dez’s face falls. Questions trace lines across his brow. “What do you mean?”
“My father sent Leyre after us,” Cas says firmly. “She told us that he knew I was plotting against him and searching for the Knife of Memory.”
“Who in the Six Hells is Leyre?” Dez asks.
Leo scratches the side of his head. “A treasure hunter and former sailor in the Luzouan navy that the king hired to track down his son and steal the Knife of Memory.”
Dez’s lip quirks. When he looks at me with sly eyes, I remember every time he made me laugh. The way he’d make the most miserable nights on the road bearable simply with his presence. “I’m surprised at the company you’re keeping, Ren.”
“It doesn’t matter now. Leyre ran when you attacked us in the temple,” Leo says. “She’s probably halfway back home now.”
I gnaw at the inside of my lip because I want to believe that he’s wrong, that Leyre was simply caught in the cross fire and was separated from us. But I know that she needs to get away as far as possible or face her betrayal of King Fernando. I don’t blame her for choosing to live.
“Did the king want you dead or alive?” Dez asks.
Cas shrugs. “Dead, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have used me either way as an excuse to decimate the Whispers.”
“That’s why we were racing to get here,” I tell Dez. “We thought the city would be overrun with the Second Sweep. We overheard the soldiers saying they were still waiting for reinforcements.”
Dez’s features go rigid as he stands, his mind working through everything we know. “The king’s known for weeks that we weren’t holding you, and yet he’s only sent enough soldiers to keep us distracted.”
“He’s waiting for something,” I say.
Leo lets the dregs of the bottle fall onto his tongue and grimaces. “What I don’t get is, if King Fernando sent Leyre after us, who put him on the path? Lady Nuria would sooner drink poison than reveal your secrets.”
“We didn’t tell anyone else,” I say.
“I did.” Dez breathes fast. “I told Cebrián. When he first came to us, he claimed he wanted to join the Whispers to exact revenge for what was done to him. I felt sorry for him. I thought we wanted the same thing. I didn’t even tell Margo or the others of your quest to find me, to find the Knife.”
“When my father created the Arm of Justice,” Cas says, “he and Méndez had been trying to replicate and harness the power of the Moria. Weaponize it. Cebrián is as close as they ever got because he’d already been made.”
A cold dread seeps down into my bones. “He’s not going to kill Fernando. He’s handing the king a way to make more Rippers.”
Dez picks up the bottle and throws it against the wall, then releases a string of curses and shouts. Leo looks at me out the corner of his eye and whispers, “I definitely see it.”
“We have to get out of here,” I say, putting my breastplate back on with shaky fingers. “Now.”
There’s shuffling above us and the ceiling wheezes. Heavy boots stomp downstairs. The four of us stand, with nothing in the way of weapons except bottles of wine and a few planks of wood. Dez can lull the Second Sweep; maybe Cas can cast illusions as a diversion, and I can steal memories. It all depends on how outnumbered we are.
Leo holds out the jagged points of the bottle neck. I look at Castian, then Dez. One day, I’m going to have to stop saying good-bye to them. Today, we have to live a little longer. Muffled voices come from the other side as the door cranks open.
“It’s us! It’s us!” Leyre shouts, holding up her hands. Her cheeks are flushed, and her green eyes dance with mischief. Behind her is Lady Nuria, decked in a leather-and-metal breastplate and shimmering chain mail.
Leo charges Leyre, hauling her into his arms. “We thought you’d left us.”
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I pile atop them, feeling the reverberation of their wild, relieved laughter.
“There wasn’t any time,” she explains. “I saw a way out, and I took it. I went to find help.”
Lady Nuria squeezes my shoulder and pulls me into an embrace as Castian steps into the dark hall. “I’m glad you survived each other.”
Dez is the last one to step out of the storage room. He’s cautious, eyebrows furrowed as he takes in Leyre and Nuria.
“I hope you brought a small army?” he says.
Nuria turns at the sound of Dez’s voice. I spot the moment she sees Castian’s features in his brother, from his muscular build to the vulnerability in his amber stare.
The Duquesa of Tresoros raises her chin in challenge. “I brought that and so much more.”
We follow her down the hall, where three Whispers are waiting: Esteban, Margo, and Sayida.
Esteban clutches Dez’s forearm, and they clap each other on the back. “We were wrong to leave you behind.”
I know it takes all of her, but Margo closes the space between us and says, “What he did to Félix—you were right. I’m sorry.”
“How is Cebrián traveling to the capital?” I ask.
“By boat. The streets are unusually quiet,” Margo says, noticing the troubled stare Dez and I exchange. “We doubled back while they were boarding. That’s when the Second Sweep resumed their patrols.”
“What is it?” Sayida asks.
“There’s more,” Dez says, and divulges our suspicions about Cebrián’s treachery.
“And now the Ripper has a head start,” I say.
“How are we going to catch up to them?” Leo asks.
Lady Nuria trades a knowing smile with Leyre, and says, “By river, of course. But first, there’s the small matter of my husband’s blockade.”
LADY NURIA’S GUARDS ARE WAITING FOR US OUTSIDE THE MANOR, ROUGHLY three dozen clad in her family’s livery of silver and cobalt blue. They carry a flag with her personal crest—three mountain peaks and a sun at its center. Residents peek through their windows, watching us go by like wraiths in the rising dawn.
Nuria, the descendant of queens, leads the way. When I first met her, I was stunned by her beauty and her candor. Discovering that she was one of the rebels’ biggest allies only reinforced my respect for her. But now, she feels like a saving grace when I was ready to lose all hope. As we march toward the harbor, I know there is no going back for any of us. We are declaring war on King Fernando and sacrificing our lives, titles, futures, our everything.
“Tell me, Lady Nuria,” I say. “What does your husband think you do all day in that grand mansion of yours?”
“As one of my attendants has been in my suite serving as a decoy for the past three nights, I don’t believe he’s noticed my absence or that I’ve been building my own rebellion.”
“He doesn’t deserve you. He’s a wretch.”
“Believe me, I know. Disgraced and divorced before my twentieth year.” Nuria’s melodic throaty voice manages to sound delighted despite her sarcasm. “Mother would have been so proud.”
“She would be,” I assure her.
As the sun comes up, she’s impossible not to look at. Her armor highlights the hourglass figure that entranced so many at court. The sword at her hip is simple, with delicate carvings along the hilt. Her tight curls are swept back in a knot, framing luminous, nearly black eyes full of furious hope. Her brown skin is clear of any powders and kohl from court, but her mouth is still the red of a promise made in blood.
Nerves begin to set in as I catch the scent of the harbor. “Are you wearing color on your lips?”
“Of course, Renata,” she says. “We’re staging a rebellion, not attending midday mass.”
My laugh is lost in the thunder of horses suddenly filling the streets. Second Sweep soldiers cut off our route. I recognize Pascal, who tried to stop Carnaval in Acesteña. He orders his men to stand down as he dismounts.
“Lord Commander!” Pascal says as Castian steps forward. Then his eyes take in Lady Nuria, her men, and the small group of rebels. He’s so perplexed that he clings to niceties. “Lady Nuria? Justice Alessandro was not expecting you. Either of you.”
“Stand down, Captain Pascal,” Cas says. “I am well, as you can see. Lady Nuria rescued me, and we are escorting these rebels to the capital.”
Pascal shuffles closer, hand at his hilt. “We were given orders to take you to the king himself.”
“Were you?” Castian grins, and the demeanor of the confident prince I know returns, the edges of him glinting under the coastal sun. “I’m sure my father has been very worried.”
The soldier stares at Castian, as if he is trying to piece together the truth. The men don’t trust their eyes because they have been warned about Moria. And yet, here is the kidnapped prince, alive and well—not the prisoner of war they’ve been told that he is.
“Let us through,” Castian commands, lowering his voice to a familiar cutting edge. “I will be sure my father gives you and your men a commendation for aiding in my return.”
But I remember this Pascal. I’ve known soldiers like him my entire life fighting alongside the Whispers. He turns and runs back to his men, and they begin a series of warning whistles and bells, alerting the entire citadela. Castian curses and unsheathes his sword just as Pascal and the Second Sweep regroup, ready to strike. While the Tresorian soldiers move in tandem to form a barricade, Nuria gathers us around her.
“There are four streets between us and the harbor,” she says, pointing due south past her warriors, where a line of Leonesse soldiers wait in a blockade.
“We can spread out and flank them,” Dez suggests.
Nuria casts an appraising smile at him but shakes her head. “The pathways on either side are part of the lower district. They’d never recover from the damages.”
“Then empty out your coffers, princess,” he shoots back.
Nuria looks shocked. I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to her this way before, but it’s Esteban who speaks up.
“She’s right,” Esteban says. “Not to mention the alleys become narrower. We’d be pinned down. We should take Calle Oropuro instead—it was designed to cut a direct line from harbor to harbor.”
Nuria beams delightedly. “You know your history.”
“We’ll be history if we don’t move now,” I urge.
All around, shutters are slamming open, and people are watching from the five-story row houses.
“We lead them along Calle Oropuro,” Castian says. “Flush them out and then double back. Leo and Leyre will take two of your soldiers and get the vessels ready to sail.”
Dez rubs his beard, then points to Margo. “You and Castian must create an illusion.”
The prince and the Whisper glower at each other, but nod. Dez finishes dividing our strengths, and we have our orders to proceed.
Lady Nuria glances back and says, “We have to—”
“Stop them!” The grating voice of Justice Alessandro interrupts her. He shoves his way through the Second Sweep, and we follow Nuria to the front of the line. When he recognizes his wife among us, horror twists his thin pink lips into a snarl. “Get back here. How dare you embarrass me this way.”
“Good morning, dear husband,” Lady Nuria calls sweetly. “I thought I’d come in person to let you know I want a divorce!”
There’s a moment of utter silence, followed by laugher from both the Tresorian guards and the Second Sweep. Alessandro might quite possibly be foaming at the mouth as he shouts, “Lady Nuria is in league with the rebels. Arrest her. Arrest them all!”
And then the thin morning peace shatters.
“Sayida, with me!” Dez shouts. Their magics ripple in the direction of our attackers. Some soldiers slow and fight against the sensation that tells them to stand down. But others, like Pascal, keep charging. Some people are sustained by war for so long they cannot see a way out, and neither Sayida nor Dez find a sliver of peace within hi
m that they can manipulate. But still, we get past the first of four blockades with Nuria’s soldiers making quick work of the stragglers.
Alessandro climbs atop a carriage. He bellows commands and orders to kill. “Take my wife and the Robári alive.”
What cruelties must he be dreaming up for us? Would he make Méndez proud? I channel my anger into my fists. Out the corner of my eye, I see Cas and Margo fighting side by side. I can’t help but hear Argi’s voice telling me my love for him is a distraction, then correcting my posture, my stance, and I barrel harder against those who would cut me down. Four Second Sweep soldiers have Esteban and me trapped, and the two of us stand back to back.
“Do you remember the scrape in the Sedona Canyons?” Esteban pants.
“I still have the scar,” I recall, touching the mark on my left arm.
“Good.”
He stops an oncoming blow, gripping the soldier’s wrist. I see the way his eyes become dilated as they do when he peers into someone’s mind. But now he’s able to predict every move the guard will make. Within moments, the man is disarmed and unconscious. Seeing Esteban as the bigger threat, the others descend on him, leaving me to attack them from behind.
One soldier catches on and hurls me to the ground. Her weight digs into my ribs, her blade at my throat. Esteban runs up behind and slashes the backs of her knees. She falls with a deep scream.
“Thank you,” I say, breathing hard.
“You were right, Ren. About everything.”
“Fight now. Apologize later.” I squeeze his hand. “That’s two!”
We press our advantage, but the third barrier is a cavalry of two dozen horsemen. Nuria’s soldiers regroup around her. I think we need to retreat and follow around the river, but the way around is blocked.
“Cas,” I say, and tug his sleeve.
The people of Citadela Crescenti are emerging from their homes. They wield clubs, brooms, kitchen knives, machetes. I believe one woman is even brandishing serving tongs in one hand and a frying pan in the other, oil dripping on the cobblestones.
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