The next morning, I woke earlier than usual but took my time getting out of bed. I hadn't bothered washing my face last night, and I bypassed it again this morning, only half-heartedly attempting to smooth out the smudges beneath my lashes.

I pulled on one of my old day dresses and tried not to compare it to last night's gown. The makeup and the hair were fun, but that wasn't the life for me. I was made to stand beside a princess, not stand out.

With nothing else to do after dressing, I made my way toward Astreia's room. She would hate me for waking her up, but I had to be sure she was unharmed. I assumed something like the escape of a suspected Deathsinger would be cause for waking half the castle, so likely the poor girl in the cells remained a prisoner. Not being clued in about the princess's entire plan made it difficult to determine whether we were successful in our endeavors last night.

"Come on," I huffed, stuffing my hands beneath my armpits to stave off the morning cold. If I'd gone through that kind of emotional torture last night with nothing to show for it, I was going to have a breakdown.

"Morana, what are you doing?" Astreia spoke behind me as I extended my hand to knock on her door, and I turned to find her standing in the hall with bare feet and shoes in hand.

Like me, she wore last night's makeup, but where mine had been gently smudged by a pillow, hers was a mess of smears and tears. I squinted at a particular blot on her jaw and blushed. That was not makeup.

Clearing my throat, I replied, "Checking on you, but I see you managed just fine last night."

Astreia looked a little sheepish as she stepped around me. "Well, enough I suppose."

"Are we all right?"

She hesitated, looked around, and nodded. "We're excellent. I'll talk to you later."

The door clicked shut in my face, and I scrubbed my eyes, tampering down a scream. This was the absolute last time I let the girl pull me into one of her schemes. Here I was up early because my brain was so frazzled over her safety, while she spent her evening rolling around in someone else's bed.

I spun on my heel. Perhaps I could go back to bed and catch up on the sleep I missed last night. Beatrice herself would have to drag me out of my room if she wanted me to join the other maids.

As if thinking of the maids had summoned her, I saw a flash of red hair peer around a corner. Joreen. What was she doing here? She typically worked in the kitchens. I stepped out of her line of sight and watched.

She scanned the corridor and chewed on her bottom lip. Clutched in her hands was a bulging burlap sack, and even from this distance, I could hear glass clink whenever she shifted from one foot to the other.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, unable to stand it any longer. She was up to something forbidden. That much was obvious. "Are you trying to get thrown into the cells?"

Her face went pale at the sound of my voice, but the moment her eyes landed on me, red flooded her cheeks. She lifted her chin so smoothly Astreia would have approved and sneered down her thin, pointed nose.

"It's rather early for you to be up after such a late night, isn't it?" Joreen purred.

"You should be more worried about what would happen if anyone found you so far away from the kitchens."

"That's none of your concern." Glass bottles clanked as she shoved the sack behind her back. "I have good reason to be here."

"What's in the bag?"

"Nothing."

I lunged and snatched the bag from her hands, leaving her too shocked to retaliate as I untied the string. A pungent earthy scent wafted out and choked me, burning my eyes and causing me to second guess the wisdom of sticking my hand into the contents.

"Morana, please."

Gone from her tone was the acrimony. In its place was pleading. Desperate pleading. And that was all I needed to override caution.

The first bottle I pulled out was filled with a dark liquid. At first sight, it appeared black, but morning light from the arched window across the hallway pierced through the glass and illuminated the red in the liquid.

"Is this–" A murky memory stirred in the back of my mind. Usually, when I tried to hold on to those memories, they faded immediately, but the moment I reached for it, a name came to me. "Blood Bloom and Belladonna?"

"How did you–"

"Why would you have this? What else is in here?"

I rifled through the sack. Dried Blood Bloom. Sachets of Night Rose. More bottles filled with liquids and sludges I couldn't identify. But again, a thought came to me, telling me what all these items were for.

"Are you trying to open the Shroud?"

Joreen snatched the bag back. "You can't tell anyone about this."

The click of heels on stone reached my ears, and down the corridor, I spied a shadow growing larger. I shoved Joreen back into the darker, connecting hallway. "Get behind a tapestry. Someone is coming."

For once, the girl listened, disappearing from sight the moment Yoko came into view. I wiped my sweaty palms against my skirts and walked toward her, hoping she hadn't heard me talking to Joreen. Her expression didn't appear suspicious, and I offered her a small smile as I stepped to the side to allow her to pass.

"Morana, wait."

"Excuse me, Lady Yoko," I said, dropping into a curtsey, "But I have many chores to do because of our guests."

"And yet, I see no one else up and about right now."

"Everyone else is not the companion to the princess."

The Sea Court noblewoman folded her arms over her chest, and I wondered if she wrapped her breasts to achieve such a flat look or if she was naturally that small. Not that it mattered to me, but I knew the life she chose would be difficult for a woman.

Especially one as beautiful as she was with eyes the color of the ocean at dawn and lips as plump as ripe roseberries. Whether she wrapped her breasts or kept her bone straight hair chopped short, men would always see her as weaker because of that beauty.

"Are you done staring?"

"I'm sorry," I said, dropping my eyes to the ground while cursing myself for such stupidity. I struggled not to sneak a peek at Joreen's hiding place. "Is there something you wanted from me?"

Yoko cleared her throat. A light blush stained her olive cheeks. "The Princess promised you would be discreet, but I wanted to speak to you myself. What you saw last night should not go any further than us."

"If I were you, I would be more concerned about a certain Lord of Terra."

"Yes, well. He knows better. He's rather attached to some dangling bits I threatened, and he knows I'm a person of my word."

"I believe you are," I replied, my lip twitching. Yoko also looked on the verge of laughing. "And Princess Astreia does not lie. I will say nothing."

"Good. I won't complain about the direction last night took, but I will tell you the same thing I told the Princess. It would be best if you did not go down there again."

"Of course. It won't happen again."

It wasn't a lie. I had no intention of going down there again unless I was a prisoner myself. Between Astreia's antics and Joreen's secrets, that was a reality that was becoming altogether too possible.

After Yoko rounded the corner, I went to a window and settled on the ledge. To anyone else who might pass, I was a girl enjoying the splendor of sunrise, but really, I was listening intently and scanning the space to make sure we were alone. Thankfully, since it was the principal thoroughfare to reach the Royal's sleeping quarters, few elves had access or reason to be there. Other than a strange rustling sound that raised the hair on my arms, and a shadow skittering over the stones, there was no evidence anyone else was there. I chalked up the shadows and rustling to nerves.

Finally, I said, "Joreen, you need to take that bag of contraband, throw it into the Lorvien River, and never, ever deal with any of that again."

The Vixen materialized from the shadows and came to stand beside me. She'd concealed her bag under her apron. No one of importance would question the strange protrusion—they didn't waste many thoughts or musings on servants. Why hadn't she done that before? Vixens were supposed to be clever. Perhaps later, I would rile her up with those questions, but right now, I needed her gone from here.

"You went into the prisons last night? Why?"

"Joreen..." I rubbed my face, forgetting the makeup. Kohl smeared my fingertips. "That's not important right now."

"But it is. Morana, that girl is innocent. She's a cover to make people think they're doing something to stop the horrors happening in the city." She touched the lump beneath her apron. "And in the palace, too."

"What do you mean?" I snapped my mouth shut and shook my head. "No, I don't want to know."

"I know somewhere inside of you that you want more than this life."

Blinking away a sudden onset of tears, I tilted my head and drew in a deep, sad sigh. "You're not going to listen to me, are you?"

Joreen smiled. Soft and crooked. "I can't."

Her small hand pressed against my cheek. White exploded behind my eyes. The metallic ring of a blade sharpened against stone echoed in my ears. My lungs froze and searing pain spread across my neck, growing in intensity as red bled into the white, spreading until there was nothing left but crimson.

"Your eyes."

The whispered words pulled me out of the vision. Joreen snatched her hand back and stepped away. Fear and awe twisted her expression. I wanted to tell her that whatever she saw was a trick of the light, but rage and bitterness closed my throat. This girl infuriated me, but she didn't deserve to die. Not that way.

We both heard the sound at the same time. With a slight nod from me, she bolted down the corridor, and the only reason I didn't go with her was because I knew death would not come for her for at least two days.

Two days. That's all I had to figure out how to stop it. Surely, it was possible. Why else would someone have this cursed gift if not to intervene? There was only one elf in all of Edresh who could help me. But how did I find him?

Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed her. Standing where I'd seen the shadows stirring earlier, the Winter Woman watched me with her unnerving, soulless black eyes. Her stringy white hair hung unevenly around her gaunt face, and she did not speak when I dipped my head toward her; instead, she grinned, revealing sharpened teeth, before walking away.

It was only after I returned to my room that I wondered how long she had been standing there.