By the time Stirling shakes us awake, Quinn’s limbs are wrapped in mine. Our legs are tangled, and she’s buried under my chin in the crook of my neck. The air is freezing, my fingers feel swollen from the cold, and I ache all over. But the gap between our bodies is hot. She rolls off me, yawning. I look at my sister who is grinning.

“Stirling.”

“Good morning, Scarlett. Quinn,” Stirling says and winks at the pair of us. “There’s some porridge in the kitchen, thanks to Jacob and Morrigan.”

After we eat, we gather our belongings and leave the abandoned cottage.

We take three hours, but eventually, we reach the palace perimeter.

“The tunnels to my, um, the palace—the queen’s old palace—run the entire length of the grounds. Supposedly, they were political escape tunnels built into the palace, should the realms ever go to war.”

Morrigan brightens. “That’s right. They’re there in case anyone attempts to assassinate the royals during political meetings or balls. The queen is a suspicious woman… so I hear.”

I frown at Morrigan. “How do you know the queen?”

Her eyes widen, and she shrugs. “Just a bookworm.” She points at a palace Collection tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve.

Of course.

The six of us crouch low on the edge of the grounds. The rain has, at last, taken a break. Though the clouds still smother the sky in a patchwork of muddied grey. Remy and Jacob hunt up and down the field searching for the tunnel entrance.

Quinn picks at some grass. She speaks, but her gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “My relative said they hadn’t ever been in them, and they can’t remember the last time they were in use. We’re probably looking for an entrance buried under a decade of plant growth.”

“Got it,” Jacob says, jogging back to us. “We need blades.”

The rest of us draw out our knives and blades and head over to help hack up the plants. It takes twenty minutes before we’ve pulled enough green away to really see the entrance tunnel.

“This is where I leave you,” Jacob says when we’re done gardening.

“Wait, I brought gifts,” Remy says and hands out little round flesh-coloured beads.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Goes in your ear,” Remy says. “It will enable us to stay in contact with Jacob while he hunts for vehicles.”

Stirling checks her watch. “We have a little over thirty-six hours to get the map and get back to the Queen’s Peace Ball. Three hours max inside the palace, okay?”

We all place the beads inside our ears. It’s an odd sensation, cold, slimy almost, and then it disappears into my ear canal and that whole side of my face grows warm.

“Everyone’s up and working?” Remy says.

I jolt, the dissonance of having her voice inside my head and seeing her mouth move right in front of me.

“Yeah, it’s a weird one,” she laughs. “You’ll get used to it. Made of medical magic, these, and a little dose of sound conducting waves from a music chalet. Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Well, thank you, Remy. Jacob, Stirling, do you have everything you need?” I ask.

They nod. Stirling holds up the map she’s been using. “Map, comms, and good old engineering magic.” She elbows Jacob in the ribs.

He rubs his hands together, sparks flying out from his palms. “I haven’t hot-wired in years. This should be fun.”

“And Plan B if you can’t find anything?” Scarlett asks.

“Use the tunnels to make our way to the Border and bargain our way through?” Stirling says.

“Sounds like a terrible idea,” I say.

“Which is why I’ll find us a car,” Jacob winks.

“Between Jacob’s skills as an engineer and mine as a Resourcer, how can we fail?”

“Rendezvous in three hours by the west end of the gardens. Good luck.”

“Don’t need it,” Stirling winks at me, then yanks me in for a hug. “Love you like the plague.”

“Idiot.” I shuck her off. “Be safe.”

With that, Jacob buckles his blade, picks up his rucksack, and together, he and Stirling move off.

“Okay, time to change into staff uniforms,” I say and pull my uniform out of the bag. They’re not quite the same as Border Lord uniforms, but between Quinn’s knowledge of having lived here and her relative who still works for him, she thinks they’re a close match. I guess we will see.

When we’re all dressed and our bags repacked, Remy says, “My turn.”

She stands square on to the tunnel entrance. She kneels, places her hands on the floor and takes a deep breath. Her hands vibrate and sink into the earth until there’s barely a knuckle left. The earth rumbles under my feet. Her eyes fill with grey. Silver white threads pierce the earth matting and meshing over the tunnel entrance. Sweat runs down Remy’s temple. I dig Chance out of my pocket, rubbing the gilded words for luck.

The metal rods sealing the tunnel vibrate faster, dirt and dust fall from the tunnel roof and splatter on the sodden floor.

Time evaporates. It’s taking too long. It won’t work. We’re going to end up getting caught.

I grit my teeth, grinding them into each other, my stomach hardening. But as I taste bile, the metal rods blocking the tunnel entrance evaporate, and the entrance is clear for us to enter.

“Well, that was a fucking challenge and a half,” Remy says, wiping lines of sweat from her face. “I wish I could stay and study the security systems. They’re so old and intricate, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to hack them.”

“Thank gods we picked a genius for a team mate then,” Quinn says, slapping Remy on the back.

And so we enter the tunnels, plunging ourselves into the gloom, and the mission begins.

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