Page 247 of Kingdom of Ash

Even the guard straightened, glancing to the slit of a window behind him.

Dorian halted, tucking himself into a shadow.

Nothing. No cries or shouts, yet …

The guard returned to his post, but scanned the hall.

Dorian remained still and quiet, waiting. Had they discovered his presence? Sent out a call?

It couldn’t have been as easy as it had seemed. Erawan no doubt had traps to alert him of any enemy presence—

Rushing, light steps sounded around the corner, and the guard turned toward them. “What is it?” the man demanded.

The approaching servant didn’t check his pace. “Who knows these days with the company we keep? I’m not lingering to find out.” Then the man hurried on, rushing past Dorian.

Not rushing toward something, butaway.

Dorian’s whiskers flicked as he scented the air. Nothing.

Waiting in a hallway would do no good. But to plunge ahead, to seek out whatever might be happening … Not wise, either.

There was one place he might hear something. Where people were always gossiping, even at Morath.

So Dorian ventured back down the hall. Down another set of stairs, his little legs barely able to move fast enough. Toward the kitchens, hot and bright with the light of the great hearth.

Lady Elide had worked here—had known these people. Not Valg, but people conscripted into service. People who would undoubtedly talk about the comings and goings of this keep. Just as they had at the palace in Rifthold.

The various servants and cooks were indeed waiting. Staring toward the stairs on the opposite side of the cavernous kitchen. As was the lean, green-eyed tabby cat across the room.

Dorian made himself as small as possible. But the beast paid him no mind, its attention fixed on the stairs. As if it knew, too.

And then steps—quick and hushed. Two women entered, empty trays in their hands. Both wan and trembling.

A man who had to be the head cook asked the women, “Did you see anything?”

One of the women shook her head. “They weren’t in the council room yet. Thank the gods.”

Her partner’s hands wobbled as she set down her tray. “They will be soon, though.”

“Lucky you got out before they came,” someone said. “Or you might have found yourself part of lunch, too.”

Lucky, indeed. Dorian lingered, but the kitchen resumed its rhythms, satisfied two of its own had made it back safely.

The council room—perhaps the same Manon had described. Where Erawan preferred to have his meetings. And if Erawan himself was headed there …

Dorian scuttled out, heeding that mental map Manon had crafted. A fool—only a fool would willingly go to see Erawan. Risk it.

Perhaps he had a death wish. Perhaps he truly was a fool. But he wanted to see him. Had to see him, this creature who had ruined so many things. Who stood poised to devour their world.

He had to look at him, thisthingwho had ordered him enslaved, who had butchered Sorscha. And if he was fortunate—maybe he’d kill him.

He could remain in this form and strike. But it would be so much more satisfying to return to his own body, to draw Damaris, and end him. To let Erawan see the pale band around his throat and know who killed him, that he hadn’t broken him yet.

And then Dorian would find that key.

The silence showed him the way, perhaps more so than the mental map he’d memorized.

Halls emptied out. The air became thick, cold. As if Erawan’s corruption leaked from him.

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