Night made the Water Kingdom look cleaner than it was.
Snow covered filth well.
So did moonlight.
The palace rose above the city in pale stone and blue glass, elegant towers cutting into the sky like blades. Lanterns burned along its outer walls, warm gold against frozen dark. From a distance, it looked beautiful.
Up close—
I knew better.
Children had died in a cave while that place glowed.
My jaw tightened.
Beside me, Raiden said nothing.
For once.
We stood on the roofline of an abandoned storehouse overlooking the lower palace walls. Snow gathered along broken shingles and slid in quiet sheets to the alley below. My breath fogged the air.
Revik and Muir waited farther back in shadow with the others.
Unhappy about it.
Good.
They could stay unhappy.
"You two are the worst possible pair for a stealth mission," Revik had muttered ten minutes ago.
"Well, that's just a blatant lie," Raiden had replied lazily. "We are the best option."
Muir hadn't laughed.
He had looked at me instead.
"You don't have to do this tonight."
"Yes, I do," I'd said.
And that had been the end of it.
Now the city slept beneath us.
Mostly.
The docks never truly slept.
Neither did guilt.
Neither did rage.
Neither, apparently, did the thread between me and the man beside me.
It pulsed once.
Steady.
Aware.
I ignored it.
"We move now," I said.
Raiden's mouth curved faintly.
"You do love giving orders."
"You'll love surviving because of them."
That earned a quiet hum.
Then he stepped backward—
and vanished.
Not fully.
No flare.
No dramatic display.
Just shadows folding around him like obedient silk until he was part of the night.
Show-off.
A hand closed around my wrist.
I startled—
only slightly.
His voice brushed my ear from nowhere.
"You're loud when you think."
I yanked my arm free.
"You're irritating when you talk."
"Then we're both burdened."
The shadows peeled back just enough to reveal him again.
Smirking.
Of course.
He crouched at the edge of the roof and looked down toward the palace wall.
"Three guards," he murmured. "Two walking pattern. One lazy."
"How tragic for him."
"Very."
I moved first.
Leaping the narrow alley gap, boots landing silently on the next rooftop. Snow crunched softly beneath me. I dropped low and crossed to the far edge.
The palace wall rose another twenty feet beyond.
Raiden landed beside me without sound.
Reminding me of the night we met.
I shook my head to clear the memory away.
I studied the patrol below.
Two guards crossed paths at the gate arch.
One leaned near a brazier, warming his hands.
Lazy indeed.
"I can freeze the lock and open the servant gate," I whispered.
"You could."
"But?"
"But then they'd notice the gate opening by itself, and we'd spend the next hour killing people."
I glanced at him.
"You say that like it's a downside."
His eyes flashed.
Dangerous amusement.
"It depends how much time we have."
The thread warmed.
Sharp.
Interested.
I hated that I knew what that felt like now.
He touched the center of my back.
Lightly.
"Jump when I say."
My spine locked.
"Remove your hand."
"Later."
"Raiden."
"Now."
The shadows surged.
The world blurred.
Cold swallowed me whole.
Then released.
We landed inside the wall, tucked between stacked barrels and a stone supply shed.
I spun toward him.
"What was that?"
"A gift."
"You dragged me through shadow."
"You're welcome."
I stepped closer.
"You do that again without warning and I'll make sure you don't leave the shadows."
His gaze dipped briefly to my mouth.
Then back to my eyes.
"Noted."
The thread snapped tight.
I turned before I could think about why.
We moved through servant paths first.
Narrow corridors behind the grand outer halls.
Stone floors scrubbed clean.
Warm lanterns every ten feet.
Paintings in gilded frames.
Fresh flowers in winter.
Silver trays abandoned outside polished doors.
Luxury layered over rot.
Every elegant detail made my anger colder.
Raiden felt it.
I knew because the thread responded with a low hum of awareness.
He said nothing.
Smarter than usual.
We paused at an intersection as two maids passed carrying folded linens.
I lowered my head.
Raiden shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine.
Too close.
His hand slid to the small of my back and pressed me into shadow beside a pillar.
The maids kept walking.
Talking quietly about cakes.
Cakes.
I thought of fevered children.
My nails bit into my palm.
His fingers tightened once against my back.
Grounding.
I hated that I still craved his touch.
When the corridor cleared, I moved away immediately.
"You're touchy tonight," he murmured.
"I'm considering murder."
"Toward me?"
"We'll see."
He smiled.
Gods.
We crossed into the inner halls.
This part of the palace was quieter.
Heavily guarded.
Blue banners embroidered with silver waves hung from vaulted ceilings. Carved marble columns lined the passage like silent judges.
I heard music somewhere distant.
Laughter too.
Of course.
A kingdom rotted below and laughed above.
I started forward.
Raiden caught my wrist.
Hard enough to stop me.
A patrol rounded the far corner.
I barely had time to inhale before he pulled me into a recessed alcove hidden behind hanging drapery.
My back hit stone.
His body pinned the space in front of me.
One hand braced beside my head.
The other still around my wrist.
Too much man.
Too much heat.
Too close.
The patrol passed outside.
Bootsteps slow.
One paused.
I stopped breathing.
Raiden lowered his head until his mouth nearly touched my ear.
"Try not to breathe so loudly, little thief."
I glared up at him.
"I'm imagining your funeral."
"Touching."
The guard moved on.
The moment stretched anyway.
Neither of us moved.
The thread screamed.
Storm.
Fire.
Heat.
Something darker beneath both.
My pulse beat against the wrist he still held.
He felt it.
His eyes dropped there.
Then slowly lifted back to mine.
I yanked free and shoved past him.
He let me.
Smug bastard.
We climbed a narrow stair hidden behind a tapestry and emerged onto an upper gallery overlooking the throne room.
I froze.
The room below was vast.
A polished floor of blue-veined marble.
Tall windows crusted with frost.
Massive braziers throwing gold light across carved walls.
At the far end—
the throne.
High-backed.
Pearl inlaid.
Ridiculous.
And seated in it—
the Water King.
Relaxed.
One ankle crossed over the other.
Wine in hand.
A thin line of age around clever eyes.
He wore velvet while children shook in caves wearing practically nothing.
My vision sharpened.
Around him stood advisors, guards, ministers.
One of them—
the harbor minister.
Alive.
Pale.
Sweating.
Good.
Another man I didn't know unrolled documents before the throne.
The king skimmed them lazily.
"Dock losses?" he asked.
"Contained, Your Majesty."
Contained.
I tasted blood where I bit my cheek.
"And the missing stock?"
"We've rerouted through lower access points."
My hand drifted to the dagger at my thigh.
The king sighed.
"Then replace the losses and stop bringing me inconveniences."
Losses.
Children.
He meant children.
The minister swallowed visibly.
"What of the northern complaints, sire? Refugee camps are asking—"
"Then let them ask."
Laughter from one advisor.
My body went very still.
Beside me, Raiden felt it instantly.
His fingers wrapped around my throwing wrist before I fully moved.
"Not yet," he murmured.
I didn't look at him.
"Let go."
"We have what we came for."
"No."
My voice was barely sound.
"We have an admission."
"No."
He stepped closer.
"Lyra."
Too gentle.
Too late.
Below us, the king lifted his goblet.
"To efficiency."
More laughter.
Something in me snapped into perfect clarity.
I turned my head slowly and met Raiden's gaze.
He saw it.
The certainty.
The decision.
His grip tightened.
"Too late," I whispered.
I ripped free.
My dagger was already in my hand.
Obsidian caught firelight once.
Then flew.
The blade cut through the throne room like a line of judgment.
A flash.
A hiss.
Impact.
The king jerked back with a shout.
Blood streaked across his cheek.
Bright red against pale skin.
The dagger buried itself deep into the back of the throne beside his head with a crack of splintering pearl.
Silence slammed into the room.
Every guard reached for steel.
Every advisor stumbled backward.
The harbor minister dropped to his knees.
The king pressed trembling fingers to his face.
Stared at the blood.
Then looked upward.
Toward the dark gallery.
Toward us.
My chest rose once.
Slowly.
Even from across the chamber, he knew.
He was no longer untouchable.
Beside me, Raiden exhaled something dangerously close to a laugh.
The king's voice tore through the room.
"FIND THEM!"
And the palace erupted.