Thread of Gold

Ch. 5: until it bleeds

Anna hopped lightly across the roof.

The sun was disappearing now, casting long shadows over the hulking stone towers. Guards' swords flashed like strange, night-blooming flowers. She crept along the castle ramparts, sticking close to the stone wall. Checking all the possibilities one-by-one. She slipped into Queen Brigid's quarters first, then the Royal Treasury. Sophie had explained the lay-out of the castle, as much of it as she could remember.

Still no map of Nyxos.

Which left only one possibility.

Anna crept closer to the King's quarters, tiptoeing along the window ledge. Wind whistled past her ears, sharp as an arrow. Grass loomed below. Her heartbeat was a fluttering bird in her chest, but she took deep breaths, letting the motion steady her.

Calm.

Sophie's first lesson.

Anna inched closer to the window, avoiding a white splotch of bird dung. She wondered what her fellow Nightweavers would say if they could see her now. Princess Annalise Cidarius, the rightful ruler of Wynterlynn, skirting around bird shit and trying desperately not to topple off a window ledge.

Rourke would have laughed his ass off.

The thought of him was bittersweet, and Anna shoved it away. She wasn't thinking about Rourke. Not today.

Anna peeked through the window, squinting into the dark chamber. No surprise there. Ryne had probably changed and was now on his way to the evening banquet.

Still.

She'd have to hurry.

Anna slid through the opening, landing silently on the stone floor. No guards inside the room. Good. She didn't want to waste any time incapacitating anyone. She scrabbled around the chambers, checking in a leather trunk and dusty books, behind leather riding crops and a rack of obscenely bright waistcoats. And then she saw it.

A golden chest beneath the bed.

Something pulsed inside of it. A strange, otherworldly presence, cold as a night breeze. She could feel it singing to her. The map of Nyxos. She was sure of it.

Anna fell to her knees, crawling towards the chest, and then swore.

A lock.

The sort that required a key.

She yanked out one of the jeweled pins in her hair, sending it tumbling down her back. Handy, those. They were sharp enough to double as a knife at close range — and a lock-picking device, now that she thought about it.

She jammed the pin into the lock, wiggling experimentally. There was a bright flash. Pain flared across her palm, and she bit back a cry. The jeweled pin clattered to the floor, the silvery blade warped and melted.

Damn.

A magical lock.

Anna popped her stinging finger to her mouth, sucking on the skin. She had seen these before, at Grim's Market. Only the person with the proper key could get in. That person being the swine that stole her throne, presumably.

Anna lowered her finger. She only had a few minutes before people would expect her at the banquet. Could she shatter the chest? But that would attract a lot of noise, and there were guards stationed outside the door—

She heard the click too late.

Anna sprang up just as the door opened. Revealing King Ryne Delafort, staring at her with an expression of pure astonishment.