All at once the memory of being in Mr. Corvus’s office with Eli came back to me. Two men had walked in and attacked us with sleeping spells. But not just any men—Captain Gargrave and one of his Will Guard.

As if thinking his name had conjured him into life, I heard Gargrave say from somewhere above me, “This one’s waking up.”

“Good,” another voice replied. “Just in time.”

Closing my eyes, I shifted sideways onto my back and to the direction of the voices. Pain shot through me from the roots of my hair to my toenails. The worst of it was in my shoulders and neck. How long had I been lying like this? Hours for sure.

I opened my eyes to see a low-hanging stone ceiling above me, easily as dirty and cracked as the floor. Right away it put me in mind of a medieval dungeon, although that might’ve had more to do with the torture currently being inflicted on my body. Bracing one leg against the floor, I tried to roll over onto my other side but couldn’t manage it.

“No need to struggle so hard,” Gargrave said, his voice suddenly much nearer than it had been before. “Ana-acro.”

I screamed as the spell hoisted me into the air by the ropes around my wrists. The magic jerked me to the right then dropped me into a wooden chair. For a moment I couldn’t see or think or do anything until the pain receded.

Then finally I looked around, getting my bearings at last. It seemed my first judgment had been correct. This was a dungeon, or at least it was underground. The air possessed that damp smell like the tunnels at Arkwell. There were no windows, and the only light came from torches hung on the walls. So no electricity either, it seemed.

Captain Gargrave stood a few feet in front of me. He was wearing his usual red and black Will Guard uniform, but he had the sleeves rolled up, exposing his thick forearms. I spotted an intricate black tattoo running up his right arm from wrist to elbow. It took a second for my brain to puzzle out the shape. Those black marks were a flock of crows in flight. Gargrave, not Corvus, must’ve been the crows in Eli’s dream.

The moment I made the realization, my eyes fixed on the man standing a few feet behind Gargrave, his face partly hidden in shadows. Even still, I recognized him. I’d never met Titus Kirkwood in person, but I’d seen his image often enough. Once again I was struck by the strong resemblance he bore to his nephew.

“What are you doing?” I said, struggling in vain to free myself. I couldn’t see the rope binding me, but I knew it was silver and made of magic, simply by the painful tingling in my skin where it touched. “Where’s Eli?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Titus said in a voice that belonged in one of those annoying mud-slinging political commercials. “He’s here, too.”

I jerked my head around, trying to locate Eli in the semi-darkness. Then I saw him lying a few feet away near the wall. Like me, his wrists were bound behind him.

“Ana-acro,” Gargrave said again, and Eli’s body rose into the air. He cried out, coming awake at once. Gargrave deposited him into the chair next to me.

“There now.” Titus rubbed his hands together. He was a tall, broad-chested man with blond hair slowly giving way to gray and a pointed, severe chin. “The dream-seers together as they should be. It really is a shame that it’s come to this. Your talents would’ve proved useful, I’m sure. I tried to keep you out of the way long enough for me to finish my business, but it seems it wasn’t meant to be. You’ve learned too much.”

I glared at him. “How do you know what we’ve learned?”

A cold smile slid across Titus’s face like a snake. “Why, from your own mouth. I knew tonight was your last chance to predict the attack on Lyonshold so I had Captain Gargrave slip a listening device beneath Eli’s door earlier this evening. Bugs, I think ordinaries call them. Such a strange euphemism. But highly effective when brand-new and animation free.”

My mouth fell open at this news, and I cringed at all the things he must’ve heard. Not just about the Telluric Rods and our plans to search Mr. Corvus’s office, but also about the dream-seer’s curse.

“If you didn’t want us to find out, you’ve shouldn’t have relied on someone else to do your dirty work,” Eli said, surprising me by how quickly he’d recovered and caught up.

Titus examined his hands, the skin around his knuckles oddly discolored. “I only use these for the delicate situations.”

I scoffed. “You mean like beating up your nephew?” I expected Titus to react with anger, but his lips parted into a smile revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

“Yes. He’s always been a delicate situation, I’m afraid. Just like his mother.” Titus clapped his hands. “But enough wasting time.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “The ceremony will be starting soon, and I need to be away from here when it does.”

“Where are we?” Eli demanded.

“Lyonshold. In the dungeon of Senate Hall, to be precise,” Titus said. “And I’m well aware that you know what’s coming next. Even without the dreams, your detective work has been quite impressive, although it helped that my nephew was so eager to betray my secrets.”

“You can’t do this.” Eli jerked against the rope binding him, but Gargrave pointed his staff, freezing him in place.

“Go head and keep struggling,” said Gargrave. “I would hate for this to get boring.”

My head buzzed with the realization of where we were and when. No wonder moving had hurt so much. We must’ve been under that sleeping spell for nearly eighteen hours. “Abducting us was stupid,” I said, trying to draw attention off Eli. “We’re the dream-seers. Someone has to have noticed we’re missing by now.”