Chapter 43
Maddie
I tucked my hair into the bonnet and gave it a firm pat. The maid’s uniform was a little shorter than I’d like—borrowed from a seventeen-year-old—but I made it work. I tugged at the back and smoothed the front.
Not bad.
I tilted my head, checking my reflection. I actually looked kind of hot. It’s a shame Lacey wasn’t here to see it.
Bet she’d approve.
Mental note: steal this outfit when the nightmare was over. If I made it that far.
“Do you remember your role?” Leo asked from the couch in Lia’s lounge. His tone was flat, but his knee bounced up and down like a seesaw.
“Go in, find what level she’s on, how many guards, then get out. I know the drill.”
“Mads—”
“Leo, stop mothering me, okay? I’m pretty sure I’ve proven I’m just as capable as you these past few days.”
“I know you’re capable, Mads. I know that. But—” He hesitated, and I softened.
“Leo,” I said gently. “You know I love you like the brother I never asked for.”
I nudged him. “But you’ve got to trust me.”
I adjusted the bonnet. “I’ll find her. Then you can swoop in and play hero, alright?”
Leo sighed and pulled me into a bear hug. “I love you, Mads. Be safe.”
I let him hold me for a second longer than I wanted to admit. “I will. You’ll see me soon. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t trip over your own ego.”
“That would be tragic.”
**
Honestly, getting into the tower was easier than expected. Maybe Vael really was arrogant enough to believe no one would ever try.
I had tucked a tiny blade into the hem of my apron and checked the vial strapped to the inside of my thigh—Lacey’s creation, sharp enough to drop a grown man in seconds. Assuming I didn’t trip and break it like a klutz.
Focus, Maddie.
I exhaled slowly, steadying the jitter in my hands. This wasn’t the first time I’d done something reckless in a dress, but it was the first time it might get me flayed alive by a cult.
The hall outside the servants’ quarters was quiet. Too quiet.
I moved quickly—shoulders down, steps light. Just enough smile to pass, not enough to draw attention. Look busy. Look invisible.
One foot in front of the other. Easy. Until a soldier rounded the corner and nearly ploughed into me.
“Watch it, girl,” he muttered, not even bothering to glance at me.
I dipped my head. “Sorry, sir.”
He moved on. I let the breath out through my nose. Too close.
“You! Are you the new girl?” a woman barked from across the room. Grey hair pulled tight, beady eyes that tracked like a hawk. She sized me up in one blink. I had to resist touching the magic-suppressing bracelet Lia had made me wear. Hopefully it was doing its job.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She approached, squinting at me. “You good at washing clothes?”
“The best, ma’am. At least that’s what my house mother used to say.”
“Hmm. I see. Alright. Name’s Alfrey. You?”
“Uh—Mary, ma’am.”
“Mary. Right. Get into the wash-room and help Laundress Claire. The girl upstairs ruined one of His Graciousness’s outfit’s. I need it cleaned. Now.”
“Of course, “ I nodded and made my way through halls. I felt her watching me go with each step.
I found the room without trouble. A young girl was inside, frantically scrubbing a hideous pink dress.
“Hello,” I said carefully.
She looked up, eyeing me with suspicion. “Hello.”
“Nice day for a sunset,” I said quietly.
She froze. Then, barely above a whisper: “I prefer the dawn.”
Holy shit. She was one of us.
Her eyes darted side to side before she grabbed my arm and yanked me toward a closet.
“Lia sent me,” I whispered, hoping I was right.
She clamped a hand over my mouth. “Careful,” she hissed. “Some of Vael’s acolytes are sensors. They’ll hear you.”
My stomach dropped.
Sensors. The bastards with hyper senses—hearing that could stretch across floors, maybe entire wings if they were strong enough. One wrong word could blow the whole thing.
“Who else is here?” I asked.
“King Ivan is here with a small force. He’s been staying here. Plus Vael, his men and a man I don’t know – a guard named Thorne.”
“Thorne’s here?” I whispered, dread crawling up my spine.
Claire narrowed her eyes. “You know him?”
“Well enough,” I muttered. “What about the girl?”
“I delivered the package. I told her to be ready at 8pm.”
I checked the clock. It was only 7:15. “So she is still here.”
“I think so.”
“How is she?” I asked. Claire gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“What?” I whispered.
“She just threatened to stab Vael in front of King Ivan in the dining room.”
I muffled a laugh. “That’s my girl. How many guards does she have?”
“Other than Thorne at least 6. She has also been locked in the master’s bedroom.”
“Are they magicborn?”
“Just Thorne.”
“Great,” I muttered. “He’s a nightmare all on his own.” I said, my voice glum. “How can I get to her?”
“There is a servant’s stairwell, I’ll take you.”
She led me by hand out of the room, gesturing to keep my head down, which I did. As we walked we past a gathering of monks.
All of them were male, dressed in white robes with blue markings painted across their cheeks. Their eyes were dark—not vacant, not glazed. Just... disconnected. Like the lights were on, but something else was home.
Worse was the energy clinging to them—malevolent, sticky, like tar on skin.
And then there were the instruments.
Blades—curved and gleaming.
Ornate bowls etched with unfamiliar symbols.
One of them carried a jug, thick with some kind of oil that shimmered in the torchlight.
It was almost like they were planning a big ritual of some kind. And with Elle somewhere in the building, there was no way this was a good thing.
We hurried past, keeping our eyes down. But out of the corner of my eye I watched them walk to an ornate wooden door and walk down into a dark, lonely staircase. It seemed to go on forever.
“What’s down there?” I whispered.
Claire’s eyes flicked to the door, then back ahead. “Nothing good.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one we’re allowed to give.” She said.
I hesitated. “Is it the caves? There’s a special spring down there, isn’t there?” Lia had already told me as much.
Claire didn’t answer, but her silence spoke volumes.
“What does the water do, Claire?” I asked, pulling her into a narrow alcove just off the hall.
She flinched, glancing around before closing her eyes like she was bracing for something.
“Look,” she said, teeth clenched, “all I know is that it’s important to Vael. Really important. Only his chosen are allowed down there.”
She opened her eyes and looked straight at me. “Please, Mary.”
“Maddie.”
“Maddie, then. Please. Let’s just get your friend and get the hell out. Okay?”
I frowned but nodded. If I tried to deviate from the mission, Leo would kill me.
Gods, I hoped he was okay. Last I heard, he was linking up with a couple of rebels—trying to infiltrate the tower from below.
We started moving again.
“Laundress Claire! Where do you think you’re going?”
Alfrey’s voice rang out behind us like a whipcrack.
Claire froze. Her posture stiffened, but she turned, keeping her gaze low.
“I’m just showing the new girl around,” she said quickly.
“I’ve a mountain of sheets waiting!” Alfrey snapped. “Get back to your post!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Claire gave a quick curtsey, then grabbed my arm and steered me back toward the washroom.
The stairs were only feet away. We had been so close! I almost growled in frustration. But I kept my head down, moving through the hall like any other servant—small, quiet, invisible.
Then the first blast hit.
BOOM.
The whole tower shuddered. Stone groaned. A sharp crack split the air above me.
Screams echoed through the corridor as plaster rained down. Two maids bolted, slipping on the polished floor in their panic.
I raced to the nearest window. Pulled back the curtain—
And there they were.
Red flags snapping in the wind.
At the front of the charge: King Ashton, cloaked in arrogance, flanked by a Shade I hadn’t seen in months.
Bomber. They called him that for a reason.
I never liked the guy—one of Vasquez’s little favourites, smug and cruel with a taste for explosions.
Right now, he was priming another blast in each palm.
Hurried footsteps pounded down the stairwell. I pressed back into the shadows, breath shallow. If Vael saw me—if he remembered me—it was over.
Outside, Ashton’s voice rang through the air like a blade.
“Get out here, Brother! Before I bring this godsforsaken tower down—with you still inside it!”
Bomber lifted his hands. Magic crackled—wild, volatile, hungry.
From somewhere unseen, a voice answered—amplified and unnervingly calm.
“Don’t you think this is all a little unnecessary, brother?” Vael’s chuckle slid through the air like oil.
“We had a deal!” Ashton snapped. “Bring me my shadowmancer—now!”
“You don’t frighten me,” Vael snarled. “Pitiful excuse for a man. Father should’ve killed you at birth.”
Another blast hit—closer this time.
The walls rattled. Screams rose from somewhere above. A statue down the hall cracked straight through the middle and crumbled to dust.
Claire had vanished in the confusion. Good. She didn’t belong in whatever was coming next.
I bolted.
Down the corridor. Past the washroom. Toward the servant’s stairwell we’d nearly reached before.
No one stopped me.
No one even noticed me—too many guards running the other way, too many panicked servants clogging the halls.
I slipped through the stairwell door and closed it behind me, heart pounding.
The air was thick with dust and the scent of fire. From somewhere above, I heard a deep groan of stone—like the tower itself was reconsidering standing.
I climbed fast.
Two flights. Three.
The master’s wing couldn’t be far. If Lia was right, it would be at the highest point in the tower – as close to the gods as it would let him be.
I just had to get there before someone else did.
A crash echoed from somewhere overhead. Shouts. A flash of red light lit the stairwell window.
Keep going.
For Elira. For Leo. For all of us.
I reached the landing—and froze.
Footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate.
A silhouette moved across the top of the stairs.
Broad-shouldered. Magic clung to him like a storm waiting to break.
He was pacing—back and forth—clutching his head with both hands, muttering to himself in a low, cracked voice.
“Chase her… you have to—no! Leave her! You have to save—no, no…”
Thorne.
I shrank deeper into the shadows, barely breathing.
He scraped his hands down his face hard enough to draw blood.
“Elira…” he whispered, broken.
Then his head snapped up.
“Elira!”
His eyes were black. Wild. Murderous.
“Elira!”
“Elira!”
He spun—eyes black, fists clenched at his sides, blood streaking his face like war paint.
Whatever war he was fighting, it wasn’t over.
Not even close.
I pressed myself into the alcove, heart pounding so hard it hurt. One wrong shift and he’d sense me— maybe even hear my thoughts.
Another blast rocked the tower. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Thorne didn’t flinch. He just stood there, trembling—like he might snap in half if someone so much as breathed near him.
Then, at last, he moved.
He stormed away, boots pounding against the floor above, his voice still ringing.
“I have to find her!”
I waited until his footsteps vanished—
Then I turned—
And froze.
Someone stood in my path.