Page 111 of To Dance with Death

I wake well rested and at peace, flashes of last night trickling in, a blush rising in my cheeks at the thought. I move my legs beneath the silk-soft sheets, wriggling, seeking his warmth, only to realize he isn’t there.

Slowly, I ease up to my elbows. The room is empty, as is the balcony. Worry prickles at my mind. How long have I slept? It feels like forever.

Then my breath hitches. Today is the Syndicate deadline, and here I am, languishing in Anton’s bed. Shame suffuses me, knotting my stomach.

I stand, taking a moment to orient myself through the stars that spiral through my vision. When they clear, my gaze catches once more on the balcony where I found Anton.

Or rather, on the codex sitting atop his seat.

I move on unsteady feet and take it in my hands. It’s at least six inches thick, and I already know who it belongs to.

I know it with the certainty of one who catches the scent of salt and knows the sea is near.

Confirmation comes when my trembling fingers flip to the bookmark where he left off.

Because it’s my codex, I can read any page, no matter the order. Holding my breath, I skim the text, landing on one particular passage. My fingers fly to my lips.

He knows—all of it.

Heknows.

The codex falls from my hands. Tears crawl down my face, one after another.

I know where he’s gone if he knows the truth.

I shimmy into the first dress I find in the armoire of my connecting room and run. Sundar isn’t in his room when I pass by, perhaps having left to grab breakfast, but I find the pendant on his night table. I snatch it and tuck it into my bodice, continuing as fast as my feet can carry me until I’m outside the palace and in the mountain tunnel once more.

This time, it isn’t guarded. But why?

When light finally shines through, I get a glimpse of Moranya’s Citadel—that lone claw prying its way into the aurora above. Reaching for the pendant tucked inside my breastband, I slide it around my neck for quick access should I need it, and approach despite the trepidation running through me.

She is in there. I can feel it.

Swallowing my fear, I push inside the tower.

The inside is dark, far darker than before, the sconces unlit. The moment the door clicks shut, however, they flare to life.

“I admit, I am rather pleased to finally be able to speak with you, Vastianna.”

The voice is smooth, ethereal, as if from a dream.

Frantically, I snatch the pendant and yank it out, holding it up to one of the sconces. But no one appears.

“Come,” says the voice again, a soft caress as if a finger were trailing up the base of my neck.

Despite my thudding heart, I follow the stairs, knowing that finally, I will face her.

Death.

After all this time. After the years ofbeggingfor her to take me—only to later cling to life, knowing that with any wrong move, it might vanish.

I bypass the middle floor, for it, too, is dark, and instead climb the final, lit stairwell. There are silver doors at the top, each one embellished and jeweled as if pocked by stars. Tentatively, I push them open.

The ovular space is ringed by cerulean torchlight above, save for the far side, where a tall mirror extends to where the ceiling vaults.

There Moranya waits.

She’s facing away, a silver-blue gown draping down her hips to spool along the floor, her sleeves sheer and cascading just as long. Her iridescent blue hair floats around her the way it did when I first saw her, like strands of silk caught in a breeze.