Despite the cool air beneath the palace, sweat dampens my forehead. I’m worried about Aren, about Kelia and Sethan, and—maybe just a tiny bit—about Lena. I need them all to be okay.

Another corridor, still no sign of the fae. This escape attempt is going eerily well, a fact that makes my skin tingle with apprehension as I lead us up a set of stairs. They curve sharply to the right. I can’t see anything around the bend.

I slow almost to a stop as I near the turn. God, I don’t like this. It’s too easy, too quiet.

“What’s wrong?” Naito whispers.

I shake my head to indicate nothing, force my paranoia aside, and round the curve.

No one’s there. A gate is at the top of the steps, though. I hurry the rest of the way, praying it isn’t locked.

It is.

“Let me try.” Naito slides past me, taking from his pocket the ring of keys he confiscated from the unconscious guard. I wince when they clatter and scrape against the metal lock. Naito’s trying to be quiet, but with the corridor so silent . . .

“Got it.” He pushes the gate open. Its screech echoes off the stone walls.

Evan curses behind us.

“Wait here,” I whisper. I’m barely able to squeeze through the narrow crack without opening the gate farther. I scan the empty corridor. I’m about to tell Naito and Evan it’s clear when a fae steps into the passageway no more than twenty feet to my left. The blue-white glow from my torch highlights his face. It’s Taber. Shit.

“Hi, Taber,” I say, stepping toward him.

“McKenzie?” He frowns at the open gate. “What are you doing here?”

Think, McKenzie. Think!

“Kyol gave me keys.”

Taber scans me slowly, head to toe. “Your robe doesn’t fit.”

I look down. “No . . . but it’s, um, warm.”

He cocks his head. “Perhaps I should escort you back to your room?”

“That would be great, actually.” I move toward him, praying he’ll turn around and walk with me, but his frown vanishes. He moves past me, shoving my arm aside when I try to block his path.

A second before he reaches the gate, Naito and Evan burst out. Naito rams his shoulder into Taber’s chest, throwing the fae backward. Evan grabs his arms, holds him down while Naito grabs Taber’s head and slams it once . . . twice . . . three times into the stone floor.

Taber lies still.

Naito stands, wiping the fae’s blood off on his pants. Evan is slower getting to his feet—I think he’s weak from sitting in that tiny prison—but neither human holds my attention for long.

“What’s wrong?” Naito asks. “He’ll be fine once a healer sees to him.”

I start backing away, pointing the orbed end of my torch toward the three fae running toward us.

Evan turns, curses. He unslings his crossbow from his shoulder, arms it with an arrow, then sights the weapon down the corridor.

“Run!” he orders as the bolt thrums from the bow. It strikes the leg of the fae in the center.

Evan nocks another arrow. The other two fae take cover in an alcove, pulling their injured comrade with them and calling out an alarm.

I chuck my torch aside—no need to hide our edarratae anymore—and run.

“Come on!” Naito yells.

Evan abandons his attack and follows. We fly past a set of stairs.

“There’s an exit,” I shout at Naito, who’s edged in front of me. “Ahead and to the right.” It’ll get us out of the palace. If we can make it into the city, we might have a chance.

Fae rush into the far end of the corridor. We skid to a halt, lose precious seconds as we all seem to realize at once they’ll cut us off before we make it to the intersection.

Naito shoves me the other way. The two uninjured fae emerge from their alcove at the corridor’s other end, sandwiching us in.

Evan shoots off another arrow. Misses.

Naito draws his sword. “Up!”

I lunge for the staircase, fly up the steps two at a time with Evan and Naito on my heels.

We’re going to have to hide, not run. I try the handle of the wooden door in front of me. Locked. I rush to the next one while Naito tries the doors on the left side of the hall.

Evan fires down the stairs.

“I can’t hold them off,” he yells, sliding another bolt into place. He fires again.

“Here!” Naito shoves open a door.

Evan reaches it first. I run through after him, an instant too slow. A fae grabs me, swinging me around as his two companions rush into the room. I brace a hand against the wall, manage to stay upright long enough to kick the door shut and slam the latch into place.

My captor launches me against the wall. My head hits hard. My vision blurs, blackens. I blink the spots from my eyes in time to focus on Naito.

He lurches forward, plunging his sword through the back of the fae holding me. It almost skewers me as well. The point of his blade stabs toward my stomach, just above my belly button. I flatten my back against the wall and suck in.

Naito pulls his sword free and then grabs my arm as the fae falls. He curses as he stares at my stomach.

“I’m fine,” I assure him as the fae vanishes into the ether. I push Naito farther into the room, away from the door, which is now being pounded on from the other side.

The two fae who made it in circle Evan, their swords drawn, ready to strike as soon as he lowers his crossbow or shoots. Even if Evan kills one of them, there’s no way he’ll get another arrow nocked before the other fae cuts him down. I’m not even sure he has another arrow.

Naito pulls me to Evan’s side. There might be three of us, but we’re human. The Court has the advantage. They’ve spent years honing their skills. If we weren’t in the Silver Palace, we’d already be dead. They’d fissure behind us and strike us down.

And time’s on their side, not ours. They can wait for backup to break down the door.

We’re in a parlor or some other type of sitting room. There’s only the one exit and then three arched windows set into the wall on our left.

The windows. We’re one tall story off the ground. The fall is likely to hurt, but it’ll be better than a sword through the gut.

I don’t pause to second-guess my plan. I grab a chair and launch it through the glass.

Evan shoots the same instant. The bolt plunges into the shoulder of the fae on the left. The other lunges forward. He slashes into Evan’s forearm before the human dodges back.

Naito attacks, swinging his sword at the fae’s head. The fae ducks, parries, and strikes out, seemingly all in one move.

I shove Evan toward the window. He dropped his crossbow when the fae cut into his arm. He tries drawing his sword, but his hand is slick with blood.

“Get out of here. Go!”

He drags in a breath, nods. “Don’t leave him.”

He hands me his sword. When he jumps, I turn back to the fight, swinging my blade at the fae who’s still standing when he takes a stab at Naito. He blocks my attack easily, advances with a thrust of his own. I parry and stagger back. Alone, I’d be dead—alone, Naito would be dead—but together, we manage to keep the fae off.

“The window,” I say. “Go!” I grunt when a particularly hard hit rattles through my sword.

“You first,” Naito throws back.