Penny hurried down the corridor.

Oil paintings and empty vases whirled by. She was dimly aware of Grayson's heavy footsteps, of the smell of spicy cologne and wood polish, but it all felt distant. Sweat beaded the back of her neck. The cold metal compass thumped against her chest like a second heart. Penny took a sharp left, and then swore as she crashed into something solid.

"Easy," Ryne murmured. "Just me."

Her older brother steadied her. He was barefoot and rumpled, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. Anna and Tristan stood beside him. Something radiated from them — something that felt like dipping your hand in acid — and Penny winced.

"What's going on?" Penny asked.

"Bugger if I know," Ryne muttered.

He let go of her shoulders. They fell into step, starting down the stairs towards the entrance hall. Grayson's sword slapped against his thigh with each step.

"Did Isaac tell you to come?" Grayson asked.

Ryne shook his head. "Camille."

"Whatever it is," Tristan said, his mouth flat, "it doesn't sound good."

"Don't say that." Anna bounded ahead, her dark ponytail bouncing. "It could be a dangerous six-headed beast that we have to vanquish."

"As I said," Tristan sighed, "it doesn't sound good."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "What if it had seven heads?"

"Worse," Tristan said, looking slightly green. "That would be so much worse."

They paused in an alcove outside the entrance hall. Sunlight glinted off the chandelier, throwing white sparks across the marble pillars; a dusty piano and a half-wilted plant were the only decoration. Camille sat on the piano bench, and Isaac leaned over top of her, their heads bent close together. Isaac looked up as they approached. "Oh, good. You're here." He nodded. "Put your sword away, Cidarius."

Anna's grip tightened on the weapon. "Why?"

"Just do it," Isaac said.

"You know," Anna said conversationally, "I once had a vendor at Grim's Market tell me that when I was thinking about buying a mystery sandwich. Just do it." She shrugged. "Turns out it was dragon balls."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was illegal to sell those."

"It damn well should be," Anna said. "That sandwich was disgusting."

Isaac crossed his arms. "I mean it. All weapons away."

"What's going on?" Ryne asked.

Isaac's mouth tightened. "Just do it. You'll make them nervous."

"Them?" Anna echoed.

Her eyes shot to the double doors. Penny closed her eyes. She could sense a faint buzz emanating from the next room. So many emotions, she thought, all tangled up together like a ball of yarn at the bottom of a drawer.

"It might be better..." Camille hesitated. "I should stay here."

Isaac shook his head. "You're coming with."

"Isaac," Camille said.

Her voice was soft. She put a hand on his arm, and there was something so tender about her feelings — something soft as a velvet blanket — that Penny felt suddenly embarrassed to be in the same room.

Isaac held out a hand. "Come on."

His voice was firm. Camille didn't move. "I don't want to upset anyone."

Isaac frowned. "You won't."

"I might," Camille said.

"Why?"

Camille's brown eyes were steady. "You know why."

Penny looked at her shoes. Everyone seemed fascinated by objects in the room: the chandelier, a golden sconce, the metronome on the piano... The air had the ripe tang of lemon and awkwardness. It was something they never discussed, Penny thought. An unspoken truth that none of them were willing to accept.

Penny thought about last week in Libertas. It had been a hot night — the sort of night where the bedsheets stuck to your skin — and she'd gone to the kitchens for a cool rag. She'd been soaking the cloth in water when a reflection flickered in the glass window. Penny had screamed and reached instinctively for a knife.

"It's just me," Camille had said.

She'd raised her hands. Even now, Penny remembered that they'd shaken slightly, which was what had calmed her. Lucia's hands had never shaken. Slowly, Penny had lowered the knife, her throat dry.

"I'm sorry," she'd said, her heart racing. "I didn't mean..."

Camille's face had been cloaked in shadow. "Don't apologize. Not for that."

Penny had never told any of the others about that night. As far as she knew, Camille hadn't, either. But she could feel Camille's eyes on her now, and a sense of shame flooded Penny, strong enough that she had to bite down on her cheek.

"This is ridiculous," Isaac said. "Just come with us."

Camille shook her head. "Let me stay behind."

He exhaled. "Cami—"

"Isaac," Camille said. "Please."

Isaac flexed his hands. There was a steely look in his eyes that Penny had seen before — usually just before he sunk his sword into its target — and he opened his mouth to speak when Ryne stepped forward.

"Let it go, Isaac," Ryne said. "We're losing time."

Isaac's mouth tightened. "I'll find you after."

He addressed his words to Camille, who nodded, her eyes on the piano. Isaac started for the double doors. He paused with his hand on the knob. His mouth was so thin, Penny thought, that it had practically disappeared.

"Brace yourselves," Isaac said.

He pushed open the door.

The smell hit Penny first. There was something stale and sour about it, like old socks in need of washing. People eyed them suspiciously. There must have been about fifty of them, Penny thought, all in torn clothing and rags, their bare feet leaving muddy prints on the tile. Some men held squalling babies. Several women sported large gashes, oozing blood and yellow pus. Children hid behind their parents' legs.

Penny squeezed her eyes shut.

Emotions assaulted her from every side. The sour taste of suspicion. The heavy, aching weight of sadness. And anger, so much anger, enough that it made her mouth taste of fresh blood. A warm hand touched her arm.

"Are you alright?" Grayson murmured.

Penny nodded, her stomach churning. Anna leaned closer to Isaac. "What happened to them?"

Isaac's face was grim. "Better to let them explain."

"Your Majesty." A middle-aged man in a torn green tunic limped forward. "We've come to beg asylum."

His eyes were on Ryne, but it was Anna that spoke.

"You're from Lucerna."

A hush fell over the room. Anna took a step forward. She was standing in front of the rest of them now, Penny thought, although whether she'd done that on purpose, it was difficult to say. Her blue eyes were the colour of winter skies.

"It's the accent," Anna said. "I can tell."

The man swallowed. "I..."

He looked to Ryne for guidance. Ryne nodded.

"It's alright," Ryne said. "You can trust her."

The man shifted his weight. "She's a nightweaver, isn't she?"

His voice was wary. Another man — younger, built like the shaft of a quill— stepped forward to hiss in his ear. "Charles, you idiot, don't you recognize her? That's Annalise Cidarius. She's the nightweaver queen."

Murmurs broke out.

Penny shifted her weight. Hostility radiated from the group. If she were writing this as a scene in a novel, Penny thought, she'd describe it like steam from a brass kettle, the sort that was hot enough to burn.

Anna lounged against a pillar. "I prefer 'Queen of Shadows' myself." The room fell silent, although she hadn't raised her voice. "I find it sounds much more impressive and mysterious. But that's just me."

The hostility grew thicker. Penny shifted closer.

"Anna," Penny murmured. "You should go."

Unsurprisingly, Anna ignored her. "What do you want from us?"

The man spat on the ground. "I'm not speaking to the likes of you."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "This is my castle."

"No." The man jerked his head in Ryne's direction. "It's his castle."

"Then why," Anna said, her voice low and dangerous, "are we standing on top of a raven?"

Penny blinked. Anna was right, she realized; for the first time, she noticed that the swirling black lines on the tiles formed a pattern. A wing. An eye. A beak. She wondered briefly if her parents had ever noticed it, and then dismissed the idea. Of course not. Nobody ever used the east entrance hall; the only thing above it was the servants' quarters, which meant that they were the only people who would have ever seen the pattern from above.

A Cidarius raven.

Hidden in the heart of the castle.

"So." Anna crossed her arms. "Who wants to go first?"

For a moment, nobody moved. Then an elderly woman stepped forward. Her greying hair was tied up in a faded red bandana, and she was sporting a large cut on her cheek. Her spine was very straight.

"It's Lord Eris, m'lady." The woman's voice was surprisingly deep and clear. "He's attacking villages. His guards ride through the streets of Lucerna demanding funds, and if you can't pay them, then..."

Her throat bobbed. Anna's eyes narrowed.

"Then what?"

The elderly woman turned. "Show them, Darian."

A redheaded young man stepped forward. He looked stronger than the rest of them, Penny thought; his body was muscled and hard, chiselled like one of the statues in the garden. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Penny's stomach plunged.

Only a nub was left.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Grayson made a noise. Even Anna —unshakeable, unflappable Anna — looked like she might be sick. The voices came all at once now, tripping over each other like children clamouring on a playpark.

"He made us kneel and swear fealty to him."

"My son wouldn't do it," a woman said. "Eris lashed him until he passed out."

A man stepped forward. "He told everyone that we're liars and thieves. Nobody knows who to trust."

"There are bodies in the streets. The village healers are overrun."

"We had to dig a mass grave."

"And my wife." The first man — Charles — looked at the floor. "My wife, Stella. He took her one night. She was screaming and begging him to let her stay, and I tried to get to her, but one of the guards..." His voice cracked. "That was two weeks ago. Nobody's seen her since."

"We'll help you," Anna said.

Energy poured off her in waves. Penny thought of an exploding star, burning so hot that it felt almost cold. The impact of it was dizzying. She hadn't realized that Ryne was moving until he stepped in front of her, turning to face the crowd.

"What Anna means," Ryne said, "is that you've given us much to consider." His voice was bland. "Please make yourselves comfortable. My friends and I will find some food and fresh clothes for you while we deliberate."

Anna's mouth tightened. "There's nothing to deliberate. Of course we'll help."

"Cidarius." Ryne's voice was cool, but Penny could feel his anger like a molten brand on her throat. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Anna lifted a hand, as if to say, go right ahead. Ryne's shoulders stiffened.

"Privately?" he asked.

Her lips were white. "Fine."

They strode out of the room, their gazes fixed straight ahead. The double doors swung closed, and Penny sagged in relief. Her chest ached as if she'd been running. Grayson rubbed circles on her back, his eyes lingering to the door.

Grayson exhaled. "Should we...?"

"No." Isaac shook his head. "Let them work it out."

"And if they don't?" Tristan asked.

Isaac shrugged. "Then I hope you haven't left any explosives lying around, Tris."