Tiredness hung off of her limbs, weighing them down like she'd been draped in a soaked blanket. They'd made good time to Lady Calinya's old summer house, leaving behind the whispers of people in the dark and the scents of docks and ships for the forest they now hid in.

Feyla peered from behind a rotting mango tree. The pungent, sweet smell choked her nose and the oppressive humidity sent beads of sweat trailing down her neck and between her breasts. Moonlight illuminated an abandoned former garden. Thick grass had encroached upon former walkways, uprooting stone and old boundaries made by a gardener's tender care. While the house's structure had survived the flames, ugly black burn marks still marred the stone like scars. Calinya didn't seem to have sent anyone back here after that night of flames and terror.

Sandrina hid behind a tree to her left and Mydel a bit further back from there. Feyla waved her hand forward and the three began creeping across the abandoned garden. They slunk over the remains of a garden wall and scampered from bush to bush as they drew closer to the house. The lilac shimmer of Sandrina's magic hovered around them in a barrier. To them, it glowed dangerously bright. But to anyone else looking on from in front of them, the illusion spell made them a flickering shadow that hid the three from sight as long as no one looked too close for too long.

One of Crayden's thugs—a tall, thick-necked fey with a large knife at his side—leaned against the side of the house. A lantern sat by his feet, lengthening his shadow out in from of him. His head turned as he scanned the garden for intruders.

"You better know what you're doing, Everbloom," Sandrina whispered. They'd tucked themselves against a long, stone bench and her spell still floated in front of them.

"Don't worry about me," Feyla snapped. "I know what I'm capable of."

The other woman raised an eyebrow but didn't argue further. She pushed the illusion out farther and Feyla crawled after it, drawing closer to the guard. Another tree, one that had survived and grown since the fire, stretched out a branch above the thug. Feyla pressed herself against the bark and scrambled up as fast as she could.

The thug's ear twitched. He jerked his long, jagged knife from his side and twisted around, searching for the source of the noises. Feyla didn't wait for him to find it. When his eyes began narrowing suspiciously at the bench hiding the mages, she leaped.

Wind tugged her hair away from her face. She slammed into the thug's back and swiftly wrapped her arms around his neck, striking the point that would put him to sleep hard. A muffled grunt escaped his throat. The fey staggered forward, his free hand grasping at Feyla's thighs she'd clenched his neck between. His eyes half rolled back but they didn't close.

Gates, the curse nearly rose to her lips. Her angle had been wrong. Or the fey was just too big for the standard jab. His knife flashed up. Feyla struck him once, twice, a third time, before finally, the blow penetrated deep enough. His knife slipped from his hand and they both fell to the ground.

Feyla rolled free of the body. Her breath came out in gasps but she forced herself to stand. "Done," she said primly, dusting off her hands like it had all been according to plan.

Sandrina dismissed her spell as she and Mydel joined Feyla. Mydel picked up the lantern, his eyes wide in the light as he stared at Feyla cautiously. "Did you really used to do that for a living?"

"There was most to it than just that." Feyla stuck the thug with a dose of a sleeping potion and let Mydel tug the fey behind the bench. The three of them hedged around the boarded-up window. Sandrina ran her hand along the wood, feeling for all of the nails holding the boards up. Mydel set down the lamp and he and Feyla placed their hand on either side of the boards. Sandrina summoned her magic again and pushed her lavender glow into the boards. The nails began to glow a faint red before melted metal dripped from their holes. One by one, Sandrina levitated the half-melted nails from the boards. Mydel and Feyla caught the now-free wood, lowering it to the ground as silently as they could until the open window was before them.

Mydel doused the lamp and under the cover of darkness, the three slipped inside. Feyla's boots shifted on the uneven floor. She blinked, trying to readjust her eyes from the lantern's light. Sandrina had given her a general overview of the house's layout. They were in the hall that circled around the perimeter of the building. Somewhere, further inside and past the circling hall, there was an inner courtyard in the classic Abreylian style. Stairs to the second floor extended to their left, and unlike the outside, new wood had strengthened the mostly-burnt stairs that had once been there. Desden had some repairs done, it seemed.

Feyla crept up the stairs, Sandrina and Mydel following. She felt each step with her foot and brushed her hands against the rough walls. Sedgewick, Sedgewick, Sedgewick. If they were wed and bonded, she could have clung to that thread connecting them and followed its direction until it had led her back to the one who held her heart. But they weren't and she couldn't. Instead, she was struggling blindly in a stairwell. What if she'd been wrong? What if he wasn't here at all?

Feyla shook her head, her now-short hair flaring out. She couldn't think that. All she could do was press on and hope the tug in her heart would lead her to him even without a bond.

They reached the top of the stairs. Moonlight seeped into more windows here, casting a ghostly glow over the hall. A different, warmer light escaped from around the corner. Feyla and Sandrina exchanged a look before they swiftly picked their way to the corner. Voices carried from around the corner. Feyla pressed herself against the wall and pricked up her ears to listen.

"Not going in there again," a hard, male voice said. Feyla heard what sound like a spit before he spoke again. "Crazy—that's what he is. Ain't getting paid enough for this."

"If the rumors I heard was true, this'll be a big payout in the end," a second voice replied.

"Hellgates take the coin. It'll all get sent up to Vacia anyways. Bet that goblin spawn ain't even getting anything outta this. We'll be lucky that disc doesn't blow us all to pieces. If he doesn't snap and do it first. I tell you, I ain't going back in there."

The second voice let out an irritable huff. "Calla curse you. If he blasts me for getting something wrong again, I'm killing you from the grave." One set of footsteps drifted further away. Feyla slipped around the corner. Both men were facing away and Feyla silenced the owner of the first voice with a quick jab to the neck. Mydel grabbed him as he fell but the second man still jumped, dropping the cup of tea he was holding. The wooden cup barely had time to spread its contents over the floor before Feyla was upon the one who dropped it. The second man let out a grunt before he too fell into silent slumber.

"I suppose your stealth techniques have their uses," Sandrina whispered half-begrudgingly. She kicked the cup aside and pulled her staff from her back. Mydel followed with his own. "But we'll need something more aggressive now." A smile curved her lips and her nostrils flared like she could already smell the fight coming.

"That has to be where Desden is." Mydel nodded toward the light spilling out of the bottom of a large double-door.

Feyla's heart fluttered, bumping against her chest like a bird trying to fly free of a cage. If Desden was scheming nearby then Sedgewick couldn't be far. "I'm ready," she said, bracing herself to run into danger.

"I wasn't going to wait." Sandrina shot forward. Mydel kicked against the door and it burst open, temporarily blinding their night-adjusted eyes. The two mages launched their blasts of magic as one. Feyla ran into the room behind them just in time to see those blasts sputter out against a ward.

Not a black wizard's ward, no. Not even the red glow she'd come to associate with the Carrows. This ward was orange. Because sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, surrounded by runes scrawled onto sheets and sheets of papers and carved into the floors itself, was Sedgewick.

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Author's Note: A slightly shorter chapter than we've had lately but really, how could I pass up the cliffhanger? What is Sedgewick doing all by himself? How will Feyla handle it? (and did you see this coming at all?) Let me know in the comments!