Scarlett wasn’t sure where she'd been expecting to be taken. Prison? Some hidden dungeon? Or, the possibility she still couldn’t shake: trafficking.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

Up ahead, a knot of people stood clustered at the base of a cliff. At first, she thought Artur was marching her toward a dead end. Instead of leading her back into the city, he kept her on the beach until the sheer rock face loomed above them.

“Ah-ha! There he is!” one of the guards called, spotting them.

The crowd parted, and the Chancellor strode out, looking more exasperated than she’d ever seen him. His golden eyes flashed with annoyance, landing directly on her.

“About time,” he snapped, yanking a pocket watch from his vest and flicking it open so hard she half-expected it to shatter. “We’re late. More specifically—” his gaze pinned her “—you’re late.”

He raked a hand through his hair, then let out a slow, mocking smile. “I hope your little detour was worth it, Miss Dominique.” The watch snapped shut.

She hunched her shoulders, biting her tongue to keep from saying something she’d regret.

“She got lost, sir,” Artur said, stepping squarely in front of her.

The Chancellor let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “My, my—quite the little actress, Miss Dominique. Either that, or this one’s more gullible than I thought.” He leaned to peer around Artur, ignoring him completely.

“She was looking for us when I found her,” Artur said, arm shifting to block the Chancellor’s view again. “It was my fault—I wasn’t watching how rough the crowd had gotten.”

Scarlett wasn’t sure if he actually believed her story or if he was just throwing her a lifeline. Either way, it caught her off guard.

“Oh, I’m sure the lady was terribly inconvenienced,” the Chancellor drawled, rolling his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, impatience in every gesture. “Well. Nothing to be done now. Let’s move.”

He turned—and three small figures slipped through the ring of guards.

“Oh my,” Scarlett muttered, steadying herself as the children swarmed her.

“Miss Scarlett!” Via clung to her cloak. “What happened? Evelyn said you got lost.”

Scarlett’s gaze flicked to Evelyn. The girl’s stare was unwavering, almost… accusatory. Or was that anger? Scarlett couldn’t be sure.

“Oh, well…” Scarlett caught Artur glancing back at them as she finally freed herself from her stuffy cloak. “Yes, the crowd got a little too crazy out there.” She forced a laugh. “Evelyn, are you all right? No one bumped you in the crowd, did they?”

She’d used concern for Evelyn as a convenient excuse on the beach—but the worry was real. The surge of bodies had been strong, and Evelyn was far smaller than her.

The girl’s eyes narrowed before she gave a small, reluctant nod.

Scarlett frowned. “Are you sure? You seem… upset.”

Evelyn huffed, stared at the ground, then suddenly grabbed Scarlett’s hand in a tight grip.

Scarlett blinked down at her, startled by the fierceness in her hold. Evelyn’s gaze locked onto hers—steady, unblinking. A smile tugged at her lips.

“Evelyn, I won’t get lost again. There’s no crowd now, I promise.”

But the grip didn’t ease. Evelyn stayed glued to her side, posture rigid, small fingers clenched stubbornly around hers.

Scarlett sighed, the smile lingering. She might not have gotten away—but at least she could keep the kids close. At least she could make sure they were safe.

What she’d taken for a sheer rock face turned out to be the mouth of a tunnel. Without slowing, the group slipped into the narrow passage carved into the cliff wall. The damp air clung to her skin, carrying the smell of salt and stone, and the ceiling dripped in a slow, steady rhythm.

The pit in her stomach deepened. Royal Guards didn’t sneak through hidden cliff tunnels. They didn’t kidnap children, either. Maybe she hadn’t been so paranoid—maybe it really was leading to some black-market den or underground prison.

They walked in silence for what felt like forever until the Chancellor stopped ahead of them. He ran a hand through his hair, flipped open his pocket watch, and sighed.

“Well, I’d hoped to make you a little more presentable before heading up. But I suppose you’ll all just have to go looking like—” He glanced over his shoulder, waving a hand at them. “Eugh. This.”

Scarlett scowled, taking a petty bit of satisfaction in Olive’s scoff beside her.

Heading up? What does he mean by that?

Before she could ask, the Chancellor held up one hand, swirling his fingers in the air. The pocket watch flared with light. Lines traced themselves in the empty air, forming a perfect glowing circle. A sharp breeze curled around them, and the air began to hum.

“Whoa!” Olive’s face lit up.

The ground shivered beneath Scarlett’s feet, dust trickling down from the ceiling as the walls groaned and shifted. Stones ground against one another, reshaping, sliding aside to reveal a staircase spiraling upward into darkness. 

Even Scarlett had to admit she was impressed. In the past week, she’d seen more magic than in her entire life—but that wasn’t saying much. Back in her village, magic wasn’t rare, but few people she knew could actually use it. Her maternal grandfather had been one of them, able to float small objects with a flick of his fingers. When she was little, she’d bring him spoons, buttons, and the occasional frog just to watch them hover in the air for a few seconds. But her mother’s parents had lived far away, and such moments had been rare.

“Alright, enough gawking—up we go.” The Chancellor waved them forward, sounding winded as he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.

Scarlett climbed after him. The stairs were steeper than she’d expected, but as they ascended, the rough stone underfoot gave way to a smoother, polished surface. At the top, a guard swung open a heavy door, and light poured in, forcing her to squint. When her eyes adjusted, she realized they’d stepped into a wide, high-ceilinged hall.

Scarlett blinked against the sudden brightness, her gaze sweeping the tall, ornate walls. Gilded frames lined the corridor, each holding a heavy oil painting, and above them hung a chandelier—not firelit, but shimmering with contained magic that pulsed faintly in the crystal.

“Yes, yes, very grand. Keep moving; we’re late,” the Chancellor said, giving her a brisk shove that jolted her forward.

She bit back a retort, focusing on keeping her footing as he strode past, forcing her and the children to hurry just to keep pace. His clipped steps echoed off the marble floor, and even without running, she was nearly jogging to match him.

He stopped abruptly before a towering set of double doors. Two guards stood stiffly on either side, their gazes following the group with a mix of sternness and mild curiosity.

“Yes, I know we’re late,” the Chancellor said, breathless and annoyed. “This is the last of them—now open up so we can be done with this.”

The guards exchanged a look before finally stepping forward to heave the doors open.

The Chancellor pivoted to face them, his gaze locking on Scarlett. “When we go in, heads down. Don’t speak unless spoken to. And for the love of the crown, try not to look so—” he flicked a hand at her with a look of distaste “—how you look right now. A little grace, if you can manage it. Do what you’re told, and maybe we’ll have you out of here before the night’s over… or not.”

Before she could get a word in, he turned away, smoothing his vest as if that settled the matter.

“What? Do what? Do what who tells me?” she muttered, glancing back for backup—but the guards, even Artur, stood ramrod-straight, suddenly at attention, eyes fixed ahead as if carved from stone.

The door swung wide, and the Chancellor strode in without looking back. She ducked her head and followed, eyes fixed on the floor. She might loathe the man, but she wasn’t stupid enough to ignore his advice.

She held her breath until his footsteps stopped.

“I suppose we’ll put you here, then,” he muttered.

Scarlett glanced up. Only Artur and a few other guards had come inside. Beside them stood a neat row of people—some older and a lot younger. At first, she didn't think much of it. Then she noticed the hair: all varying shades of brown, like hers. The eyes: all shades of green.

Her gaze drifted down the line. A cluster of girls her age. A younger group the size of Evelyn. Even smaller children—boys and girls—mirroring each other in miniature.

It felt like standing in a hall of warped mirrors, each reflection changing slightly.

One girl, freckles dusted across her nose, stood with chin lifted and eyes closed as though she owned the place. Her silk dress shimmered under the light like it belonged in a royal portrait. Scarlett felt an unpleasant jolt. It was like looking at a better version of herself.

And it was still unnerving.

She didn’t notice the Chancellor slip ahead until his voice carried from the top of a short flight of steps. And that's when she realized he was standing on a dais—right beside a throne.

Scarlett barely had time to take that in before she realized the man next to him was staring straight at her.

Tall and thin, with a waterfall of white hair tied in a ponytail. He was grinning at her, the kind of grin a young boy would make—all cheek and trouble. Long green robes pooled around his feet, and a heavy medallion swung against his chest with each movement.

The Chancellor didn’t glance his way. “Averardus,” he said, voice flat.

The man turned to him, smile widening. “Gervasius,” he replied, his tone practically smirking. “Cutting it a bit… close, aren’t you?”

Scarlett caught the twitch in the Chancellor’s brow.

“Well,” the Chancellor said, “if someone’s magic was a little more precise, we wouldn’t have needed so many trips, would we?” His mouth curled in a thin smile. “Then again, you don’t do real magic, so I’m not sure why I expected better.”

The man—Averardus, if she remembered correctly—gave the Chancellor a tight smile before turning back to Scarlett. His eyes danced with mischief as they swept over her and the kids, lingering just long enough to make her skin crawl.

Another door opened, different from the one they had entered. A servant hurried through, moving straight to the Chancellor and whispering something. The Chancellor groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Must I really? They don’t need to hear my report." He removed his glasses, dabbing the lenses with a cloth.

"They’ve been waiting for you and your team commander," the servant said, stepping back nervously.

With a long sigh, the Chancellor slid the glasses back on and strode down the dais. "Fine. Gosfried, with me." One of the soldiers nodded and followed, moving toward the doors. Scarlett recognized him as one of the older guards. She also recognized him as the man who had held the sword to Mr. Covet's throat. Her skin pricked just thinking about it.

They were left in silence. Scarlett kept her head down, but she could still feel Averardus’s gaze on her. It pressed against her like a weight, making the air feel heavier.

The silence pressed down on her, the room seeming to shrink around them. Nervously, she glanced to the one wall she hadn’t yet noticed. It wasn’t a wall at all—it was a window, enormous, stretching nearly floor to ceiling. Beyond it, the ocean rippled for miles, the sun dipping toward the horizon, brushing the waves with gold.

It had been so obvious, yet somehow she hadn’t put all the pieces together. She was in the palace.

Her mouth parted slightly as she watched the sun edge closer to the water. Harmon’s story about the green flash drifted into her mind. It wasn’t the time to think about it—but a spark of excitement stirred within her. Could it really light up the whole room, just as he had described?

The doors creaked suddenly, pulling her attention back. Two guards stepped through, taking their places at either side. Instantly, the room moved as one, kneeling in unison. Scarlett dropped to her knees too, guiding Olive, Via, and Evelyn to do the same.

A large group poured into the room. A line of guards walked out, one of them being the guard that had accompanied the Chancellor. Behind them came a mix of men she couldn’t quite place. Some looked like they could be guards; others she wasn't sure about.

Her eyes widened when she recognized a familiar face. Captain Benann. He caught her gaze and gave a quick, reassuring smile. Scarlett could only blink in stunned surprise.

Even more shocking, another familiar figure stepped forward. At first she hesitated, unsure, but the nervous expression gave it away.

It was the young man from the beach. The older man's son.

She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or bewildered. At least there were two people she knew. True, the young man barely knew her, but surely he would vouch for her—explain that whatever was happening, she had no part in it.

It was the least he could do for her, surely?

She tried to catch his eyes, but the young man didn’t look at her. Instead, he stepped onto the dais, holding out his arm. “Presenting the kingdom’s shining light, his royal majesty, Admond.”

Scarlett’s eyes darted to the doorway.

His… Majesty?

Her heart thudded in her ears. She drew a shallow breath, her neck straining as she held her bow. Footsteps echoed down the hall—slow, deliberate, and heavy. A long shadow stretched across the floor.

Then her breath caught.

The man who emerged—the one in the long robe, jacket bedecked with medals, hair swept back—was the same man from the shore.