Page 62 of When Day Breaks

"Come on, let's go before we're caught out here." She turns her back to me and jogs along the edge of the castle.

I look back to see if anyone is watching before I follow along. We reach the back end of the building where an unguarded door is, and she doesn't hesitate to try the knob. We both look at each other surprised when it opens easily, and she forces me behind her as she peers in to make sure there's no threat on the other side.

She nods her head and looks at me. "The guards will know our faces. The guards and the king and queen. The rest of these dumb idiots won't know who the fuck we are but if you sense danger, get the hell out of dodge. You canmanifestout of the castle if needed, but don't worry about leaving me behind. Your safety is more important," she says and a feeling of entitlement sinks low in my gut, making me feel nauseous at her words. "Got it?" She watches me, waits for my agreement, but I hate that she thinks I'm more important than her just because I'm a queen. But I nod my head in approval anyway and follow her through the entrance.

Troian shuts the door quietly behind us as I look around. The room is dark, but it looks like it could be some kind of laundry room just based on the smell of soap alone. Or maybe some sort of bathroom, who knows.

"What's the plan?" I ask Troy, knowing that we intend to find Amy but thehowis what has me questioning.

"We should stick together. Like I said, I doubt anyone will recognize us." She shrugs off her jacket and ties it around her hips, leading me to reassess the outfits we chose today. We're both wearing all black which, despite her opinion on the matter, might make us stand out.

"Uh, um…" I clear my throat, and she notices what I'm seeing.

"Right, well . . . like I said these people are dumb." She pulls on the sleeves of her jacket to secure it in place before she continues, "Travois told me her room was on the second floor. He told me that despite what we know about her being married to the king's brother, he's never seen him around. At least not with her." She peeks around the room to see if there's another way out.

That's when I notice the light peeking out from under what I assume to be a door leading into a hallway most likely, and I point to it.

"You're a lot better at pathfinding than you think," she says and it dawns on me.

"I spent a lot of time thinking I was hearing and seeing things," I admit, referring to my short time I was being stalked by her invasive brother but she disregards my statement.

"Once we find our mother, we have to act quickly. We don't want to scare her off but we need to know what she knows. About Viktrum, about Dominek. Maybe she knows more than what was given to Rivian." I listen to Troian list off a rather concise plan, quick and to the point and dejection falls over my face.

My heart has been numb for years believing my mother abandoned me for selfish reasons. And maybe that's still true, but the first chance I had to finally confront her, I tempted to rip her heart from her body. I didn't know who she was of course, but now . . . now I have to play good cop, bad cop with my mother's other daughter instead of trying to figure out how or why she could leave me like that. She has to have known that I'd need her.

I look over to Troian who, unlike me, doesn't seem fazed by the fact that we both have lived through similar situations with the same woman. She masks her emotions a little bit better than I do because she probably has a better hold over her feelings thanme. Though, it doesn't get past me that I'm sure she's thinking the same thing I am. She has to be, right?

“Another tip,” she remarks. “Royals can’t die just by ripping their hearts out. That only works for non-Royal Nocturnes.” Her advice doesn’t get lost on me. She’s referring to my attempt to assassinate her. “On top of taking their heart, you must burn their body or cut off their head.” Troian opens the door with caution and looks back at me. "Don't hesitate,” I nod my head once more before we both exit the room.

The hallway we stand in is just like that of the Hollows Trace castle. Dimly lit, sconces every foot or so down the wall, wallpaper and framed portraits of God knows who line the wall as well, and the view straight down is near dark.

"We need to find stairs," she mentions as we both try to figure out which way to travel first.

"Let's go this way," we both say at the same time as we point down opposite ends.

"You're the pathfinder," she quips and holds her hand out to the direction that I pointed to—what I believe to be the front of the castle— and allows me to lead the way.

I tense my shoulders and straighten my back, feigning some kind of leadership as she follows behind. After a few feet, we walk up to a ninety-degree angle that hooks left. None of us speak a word until we know for sure the coast is clear. Hopefully, no one is as much of an early bird as my husband is. But I know the time is ticking past noon now and the need for urgency is beating in my chest, making my nerves run rampant.

After a few minutes of silent travels through unknown territory, we finally reach a set of stairs that lead upward. "Good job," Troian praises as she pats me on the back and scoots past me to start her ascent up to the second floor. I focus my ears on the surrounding areas to make sure we won't be caught by anyone as I follow behind.

I'm surprised it's as quiet as it's been. I thought for sure we'd see a guard or two by now, maybe an afternoon wanderer. I know I don't see many people in our castle but then again, we at least run into a few other Nocturnes here and there.

"Something doesn't feel right," I say to Troy, not knowing if my instincts are of nerves digging into my brain or if something really does bother me.

"First time jitters," she assures me, waving me off as she looks down the hallway and peering into any open room we approach. "They go away the more you sneak around." I appreciate her faith in me, but I still don't feel satisfied with her explanation.

Something is off.

"Don't you think we should have run into someone by now? Anyone?" I try to argue but it only earns me a shrift shush from her, which frustrates me a bit.

I get that she's focused, but I can't ignore my gut feeling on this.

I decide to pull her arm, halting her from proceeding any further and I yank her back against the wall. I place my palm over her mouth to prevent her from arguing and I mimic her gesture from earlier, pointing to my ear.

She listens. And in the near distance, we can both hear the faint sound of footsteps—lots of them—starting to make their way up the stairs in what resembles an angry mob-march.

"It's a setup," I tell her, removing my hand. "They know we're here," I add and we both lift off the wall and take off down the hallway.

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