Chapter 19
Another contestant dead.
The door to our chambers punctuates the thought, groaning low in protest as Nyssa pushes it open.
Silence waits on the other side, thick and oppressive, magnified by the sharp snap of the latch clicking shut.
The flickering aura light within does little to chase away the shadows that seem to press in closer, suffocating the room.
None of us speak.
The weight of the evening clings to us like a humid fog, settling deep into the corners of the space and into the folds of our clothes, impossible to shake off. It’s the kind of tension that digs in under your skin and refuses to leave.
I collapse into the nearest chair, its wooden frame creaking under the sudden weight. Fatigue gnaws at the edges of my mind, a relentless ache compounded by the mental strain of keeping my composure all night.
Across the room, Myna drifts to the window, her knuckles white as they clutch the edge of the sill. Her shoulders are stiff, her posture rigid. Nyssa slumps into the lounge across from me, dropping her head back against the cushion with a sharp exhale that breaks the suffocating silence.
“That was…something,” she mutters, though her voice trembles, betraying her attempt at calm. Her hands twitch in her lap, as if itching for a blade to fidget with, though they remain empty.
“Something,” I echo hollowly, running my fingers over the rough grain of the chair’s arm.
My gaze drifts to the floor, unfocused, as fragments of the evening replay in my thoughts like a twisted melody on repeat.
Keres’s every word, every shift in his expression, lingers—his mask shifting between charm and the predatory edge that sets my nerves on fire.
At the window, Myna finally turns, her brows knotted tight and her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not just his theatrics tonight. We still don’t have what we came for.” Her frustration is palpable, ricocheting through the room like a physical force.
The unspoken truth hangs heavy between us.
Time is running out.
The sharp click of the latch pierces the tense quiet, sending all three of us into motion.
Nyssa flinches, her hand darting toward her side for a weapon that isn’t there.
Myna spins on her heel, daggers seeming to materialize in her hands, their polished surfaces catching the dim light.
My heart leaps into my throat, but the tension eases when Raven strides in, his golden eyes sweeping the room.
Shadows pool in their depths, unreadable and heavy with thought as they land on me.
“Before you say anything,” I start, cutting off whatever reprimand is brewing behind his tight expression, “the answer is yes, I behaved.”
Raven’s smirk is subtle, and yet it captures me in a way nothing else can. I hate that it makes my heart race, that it feels like a secret meant for me alone. Perhaps what I hate most is that I don’t hate it at all.
“You’re here in one piece, at least,” Heron says, his tone flat and heavy with exhaustion. My eyes narrow on him as he leans against the wall. “Which is good, because I need to steal your handmaidens.”
I sit up straighter. “What for?”
Raven exchanges a glance with Myna, something unspoken passing between them before he answers.
“I need to go back to Keres’s rooms tonight,” he says firmly.
“He knows something—more than we initially thought. If there’s any clue to the weapon’s location, it’ll be somewhere in his chambers.
But the others need to head down to the city to make some arrangements, so I need eyes in the palace. ”
At the unspoken command, Nyssa and Myna spring into action. As I watch them navigate the space with purpose, a quiet loneliness begins to creep into my heart.
Though I am deeply entwined in this Flight and its mission, I can’t shake the feeling of being…
apart. We work side by side, yet our focuses diverge, each of us pursuing a separate goal.
Still, I can’t help but wonder—did the others investigate the hallway where I saw the prince and the hooded figure disappear?
The memory lingers uneasily, shadows curling at the edges of my thoughts, refusing to fade.
My mind drifts to the strange markings we’ve encountered—etched on the door in Keres’s room and scattered throughout the palace in other cryptic corners.
I’d carefully transcribed the first I encountered with Raven, yet—aside from the one I’m certain is for concealment—their meaning remains maddeningly obscure.
Have they made any progress translating them since?
The weight of unanswered questions presses heavily against me, each mystery a gnawing presence just out of reach. The puzzle pieces lie before me, tantalizingly close, yet they refuse to fit together.
I want to make them fit. I want to help.
The thoughts strengthen my resolve as I rise to my feet, every movement measured and deliberate. My gaze settles on Raven. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he says immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I cross my arms, tilting my chin up in defiance. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”
Raven’s jaw tightens, a telltale sign that his patience is thinning. “Starling, this isn’t a game,” he bites out, his golden eyes narrowing. “Every step you take with us tonight increases the risk of exposure—for you and the mission.”
“This isn’t just your mission,” I snap back, meeting his glare with one of my own. “And I’m not hiding in my chambers while you all skulk around the palace. It’s a waste of time and resources.”
“You need to be focusing on the last trial.”
“I’m as prepared as I can be,” I reply confidently, though doubt lingers beneath the surface like an unwelcome shadow.
The first two trials have been anything but predictable, throwing unexpected twists and hurdles at every turn.
Considering how they unfolded, I can’t bring myself to trust that the final challenge will be as straightforward as showcasing our chosen talents.
The thought gnaws at me—what if there’s another hidden layer, another surprise waiting to catch us off guard?
Still, I straighten my posture and try to project calm, even as my mind races with possibilities of what might come next.
“Aside from dinners and court appearances, no one will notice if I skip my chambers at night instead of getting beauty sleep.”
“Just take her,” Myna says, and—despite the exasperation in her voice—a flicker of warmth blooms in my chest.
Raven’s jaw tightens, his teeth grinding as if he’s on the verge of continuing the argument. But after a tense pause, he exhales and gives a curt nod, the flicker of resignation glinting in his eyes.
We take a moment to prepare. Those of us who were at the ill-fated dinner tonight change into more practical attire and arm ourselves as needed.
Nyssa bumps my shoulder with hers as we head for the door, her grin subdued but still carrying that signature spark of mischief.
“Go show that moody Nightwing what you’re made of. ”
I roll my eyes, but a small smile sneaks onto my lips. “Always,” I answer, the warmth of her confidence wrapping around me like a shield.
Then, with resolute determination, we part ways.
The hallways are quiet, the faint hum of distant auras the only sound breaking the stillness.
The air is heavy, charged with anticipation, as though even the marble statues lining the halls are holding their breath.
Shadows flicker along the walls, shifting like silent sentinels as we make our way toward Keres’s private wing.
Each step is deliberate, every detail around me cataloged as I keep my senses sharp.
The muffled sound of our boots against the cold marble seems louder than it is, but I push the thought aside, my focus unshaken.
A sharp crash up ahead shatters the silence, and Raven’s hand shoots out, tugging me into an alcove.
I peer around the corner of the wall just in time to spot Keres towering over the shattered remains of a vase.
Shards of porcelain scatter across the floor like jagged stars, catching the dim light in chaotic patterns.
His shoulders are heaving with barely contained fury, his breaths audible even from here.
He stands motionless for a moment before turning and storming down the hall, each step purposeful, his boots echoing with authority.
“Change of plan,” Raven whispers. “We’re going to follow him.” He doesn’t wait for hesitation, and neither do I.
Raven moves like a shadow, and I do my best to match his cadence.
The tension in the air is thick, but I don’t let it weigh me down.
Every creak of leather, every shift of fabric against stone feels magnified in the quiet, but I remain steady, focused on the figure ahead.
As Keres turns down another hallway, Raven pulls me to a stop.
“Wait,” he murmurs, soft but certain. “He’s heading to the king’s chambers. This way.”
“Got it,” I reply, my voice low but firm, already moving as he tugs my hand and leads me to a hidden spiral staircase.
The steps are smooth from centuries of use, and the faint scent of damp stone fills the air.
We ascend, my legs burning with exertion, though I don’t falter.
The air grows heavier with each step, but I push forward without hesitation.
At the top, Raven comes to an abrupt halt, his grip tightening on my hand before he pulls me behind a towering stone statue of a knight frozen mid-strike.
I press my back against the cold marble, scanning the area ahead as Raven takes position beside me.
The statue looms, its chiseled features capturing the intensity of battle, but I remain focused, ready for whatever comes next.