I’m not in Rillisk. I’m not in Emberfall at all. I’m in Washington, DC. Or possibly miles away, wherever Rillisk would correlate in Harper’s world.

The bracelet still works.

For a moment, I sit and inhale the cool air, such a relief after the weighted humidity in Emberfall. I have no idea where I am, but it’s quiet and I’m safe. Rhen can’t reach me here. Likely no one can reach me here. It’s tempting to stay.

But where would I go? What would I do? No one on this side needs a swordsman—nor a stable hand, from what I’ve seen. The girls I used to kidnap for Rhen rarely had skills with weaponry or horses, and while I’m certain they had skills of their own that would be useful in this place, they are not skills I share.

Something metal rattles, followed by a squeak, and I scramble to my feet. I wish for a weapon, but the only thing clenched in my hand is the silver bracelet.

An older woman pushes some kind of cart around a corner. Her hair is long and gray and tied into a braid that hangs over one shoulder. She startles when she sees me, but her expression quickly smooths out. She gives me a kind smile. “I know the library is twenty-four hours, but students aren’t allowed to sleep here.”

I take a breath. “Forgive me.”

Her eyes skip down my form, taking in my clothes from Rillisk, which are nothing like the clothes from this side. When she gets to my bare feet, her lips turn downward. “Do you have somewhere else to sleep?”

I wonder what she would do if I said no. I wonder where I would go—or where she would send me. She appears kind. I wonder if I could find refuge here.

A man appears around the corner, younger and heavier than the woman, and he frowns when he sees me. He looks as startled as she was, but his eyes are more coolly assessing. He speaks low, under his breath, but I hear him anyway. “Homeless?” he whispers. “Should I call the cops?”

She gives a tiny nod, but then she takes a step closer to me. “Are you hungry? We can get you something to eat.”

My ears are stuck on his question. The cops. Enforcers on this side. I’ve run into them before. They mean nothing good to someone like me.

I can find no refuge here. Not now. Not like this.

I close my eyes. Imagine the wall. Pass through.

Silent darkness, quick and sudden, presses against my eyelids. I’m safe. I’m back. I take a long breath and open my eyes.

Tycho is standing right in front of me.

Silver hell. The bracelet slips from my fingers and clatters to the wood floor.

He’s wide-eyed and breathing like he’s being chased. “You vanished.” His eyes flick to my bed, six feet away now, then back to my face. “Then reappeared just there.”

I say nothing. I can’t deny it.

His eyes search mine in the darkness. “Is it you they’re looking for?”

“You’ll seal your fate with that question.”

Tycho swallows. “Hawk. Is it you?”

Tension has joined us in the loft, a silent judge, trapping me in place. “Yes.”

“What would they do if they found you?”

“They won’t.”

The words come out like a threat, and he flinches. It should summon sympathy in me, but it doesn’t. I’ve learned how to lock away emotion and do what is necessary. Too well.

Tycho takes a deep breath, and he must steel his nerve, because he straightens and looks at me. He’s braver than he thinks. “Tell me what they’d do.”

“I do not know for sure, but it likely would not end well for me.”

“They’d kill you?”

“Yes.”

His voice has grown quiet. “Did you do something very bad?”

“The answer to that is long and complicated.” I consider his expression. “But no. Not in the way you mean. I am not hunted for what I’ve done, but for who I am.”

He studies me. I study him. I could break his neck in the space between breaths. I could drop his body from the loft so it would look like he fell from the ladder in the night. No one would question it. Tycho is a shadow. Likely no one would mourn.

I would.

The thought hits me like an arrow, piercing and true. I rub my hands over my face. I would mourn. I don’t want to hurt him. He trusts me. Possibly only me.

His hand touches my forearm, and I jerk my hands down.

“I’ll keep your secret,” Tycho says, his voice as low and earnest as it was before this all unraveled.

“Even though you could buy your freedom?”

He looks startled, then hurt. “I’m not buying my freedom with your death.”

It’s my turn to flinch. I very nearly did exactly that to him. I take a steadying breath, then reach out to ruffle his hair and give him a good-natured shove. “I’m honored to have your trust, Tycho.”

He blushes so deeply that I can see it in the near darkness. “Well, I’m honored to have yours, Hawk.”

The tension between us has evaporated so smoothly that it’s almost as if I imagined it. I remember what it was like to trust someone. I remember what it was like to have a friend. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until it was so freely offered.

“Grey,” I say softly. “Not Hawk.”

His eyes widen, but he smiles. “Grey.”

“It will put you in danger to keep my secret.” My voice is grave. “If I’m caught and they find out you knew.”

“Then don’t get caught.”

That makes me smile. “Go back to bed,” I say. “The horses will be calling for their breakfast before sunrise.”

He climbs back onto his bed, and I climb into mine, and silence falls between us again. It’s easier this time. My heart no longer races along, looking to evade an unseen threat.

“Jodi said you eat like a nobleman,” Tycho says. “Were you? Before?”

“No.” It’s such a relief to tell someone that I very much want to pour the whole story at his feet, just to share the burden. “I was a swordsman. In the Royal Guard.”

“Oh.” The weight of this knowledge forces him back into silence for a while, but then he rolls over to face me. “Wait.”

I freeze, wondering if this will change things. “Yes?”

“Then you’ve been holding back. When we use the practice blades.”

“Yes. I have.”

“So you could teach me more?” he says.

He sounds so eager that I laugh. I likely could have bargained his silence for lessons in swordplay.

“Could you?” he presses. “If we practice in secret?”

“Yes,” I say, smiling. “Yes, indeed.”

CHAPTER FIVE

LIA MARA

Days pass. By the time we draw close to the prince’s castle, I am travel-worn and weary. I still share a carriage with my sister, because the alternative is to share a carriage with my mother. Nolla Verin might not understand my despondency, but she won’t lecture me about the duties of a ruler. She knows why I’m upset—likely everyone knows why I’m upset—but she makes no apology for what happened with the trapper and the girl.

I don’t expect one. I don’t want one. I know why she made the choice she did. I know our mother is proud of the choice she made.