Refocusing, she knew they had to leave, and for several reasons. She was very clear, however, that this would be the last time she stepped foot in this place that held such memories for her. Though she had known iAm for mere nights, it had been … a lifetime.

Departing from here was like closing the door on the one bright spark she had e’er had.

“Let us proceed,” s’Ex said, as if he read her mind, sensed her emotions.

Without further conversation, they donned their hoods, went to the door, and stepped out. The wind was so strong and cold that it stole her breath away, and for a moment, she couldn’t concentrate and dematerialize. Soon enough, however, she was off along with s’Ex, traveling to the Territory.

When they re-formed, it was in the forest to the rear of the retaining wall. In her maid’s disguise, she would never have been allowed through the front entrance—

Something was wrong.

Several guards were clustered around the back entrance, talking with animation.

“Stay here,” s’Ex ordered. “And don’t argue with me.”

“They won’t know who I am.”

“Unless someone figured out you left.”

She had been careful, she thought.

Except … her mother was onto her, wasn’t she.

s’Ex took a step forward. Stopped. Pivoted around and indicated to the left. “There’s a secret panel about a quarter of a mile that way. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Catra frowned, and was curious when she had a sudden protective urge over s’Ex. The Queen’s executioner was more than able to take care of himself, however.

Unless, of course, he was somehow found sneaking her back in. Then he was in mortal danger.

“I regret the position I have placed you in,” she said.

“Regret is not a luxury you and I can afford. Go that way. I’ll get you to your quarters somehow.”

With that he strode off, not bothering to hide his footsteps. And at the sound of cracking sticks, the guards drew weapons, prepared to attack.

“’Tis I,” s’Ex announced.

The fact that the guards did not relax made her worried.

“You are wanted,” one of them said suspiciously. “The Princess is gone.”

“I know. I have been out looking for her.”

“AnsLai has been in search of you,” another added.

“Then I shall go to him now and make my report.” He dropped his voice to a threat. “Unless you are of a mind to attempt to prevent me access.”

“The Princess is not in her quarters,” a third repeated.

Catra swallowed hard. They still had not put their weapons away.

“Did you not hear that I have gone looking for her in the forest? She has been dressing as a maid. She could easily have gone out this way for a nocturnal stroll.”

With subtle movements, s’Ex reached behind his back, his hand finding a flap in his robing and ducking inside. When he casually retracted his arm, the biggest serrated knife she had ever seen emerged with it.

And yet his voice continued calmly. “She has no food, no shelter, no weapons, and she is not capable of existing on her own. Where exactly do you think she would go? It is far more likely that she is within the Territory, or even in the palace itself.”

“They said you helped her escape.”

“Who says?”

“AnsLai.”

Ah, yes, the high priest that was her mother’s other right hand.

Could this be an attempted coup against the executioner?

“Who exactly do you think ordered me to go look for the Princess?” s’Ex asked. “Or are you telling me that the Queen’s command is not as powerful as a priest’s? Is that what you would like me to carry back to your ruler? Because I will, along with your dead bodies.”

Instantly, everything changed, the situation defused, the guards resheathing their weapons, s’Ex tucking his blade into the folds of his robe at his thigh.

A moment later, he was inside the walls.

Standing alone in the darkness, Catra wrapped her arms about herself and shivered. As the cold night enveloped her, and the enormity of what was happening sank in, all she heard was iAm’s voice in her head:

My brother just lost his shellan.

She died in front of him, and he spent most of the day and some of the night preparing her body for a goddamn funeral pyre.

Then he got to watch her burn until there was nothing left but ashes on the cold ground.

And I just learned that your mother is prepared to attack the only people who have ever tried to take care of me and Trez if he isn’t delivered on her doorstep tomorrow at midnight.

For so long she had been in the shadows, a peripheral player to the true power of her people. As the heir to the throne, she was supposed to have no present influence.

That time had passed.

She had always respected the traditional ways. But having experienced heartbreak and loss personally? She couldn’t let this continue.

iAm’s hurt and anger had transformed her in a meaningful way. She had injured him, compromised him, lied to him. He was right; she had been selfish.

There had to be a way to stop all this. Stop the war. Allow Trez and iAm to be free. Let herself be …

Well, if not free, then at least not a poison that infected others and ruined their lives—all because of some astrological record that didn’t for one moment take into account personal choice, personal emotions, personal lives.

Walking off in the direction s’Ex had told her to go, she tried to be silent and stick to the thickest parts of the forest.

She wasn’t sure exactly where the hidden panel was.

And had no idea what she was going to do if s’Ex didn’t show up. Or … if he had a change of heart and, either through self-interest or self-survival, turned her over to her mother.

But after a lifetime of being proper, she was going down fighting.

SEVENTY-SIX

There were plans to be made.

As iAm took form in the back parking lot of Sal’s Restaurant, he was all about the parachute. Checking his watch, he took note of the time—he had about twelve hours to get everything arranged before he and Trez could leave. Tickets he would get online. The SUV was already gassed up. Banks and lawyers opened at nine—although he’d been keeping things in good order on those fronts so he was going to be able to get seriously liquid very fast.

Xhex could take over shAdoWs and The Iron Mask if she wanted. If she didn’t, they could leave those to Big Rob and Silent Tom. God knew those two bastards were co-owners by virtue of sweat equity alone. And Sal’s?

Well, that was going to go to his head chef, Antonio diSenza. The guy was on the ball, good with the front of the house and the back. And he would treat the rest of the staff well.

All those transfers were what the lawyers were going to be for. At least he’d been smart enough to get Trez’s power of attorney years ago, so he was going to be able to sign over everything without having to bother the guy.

And as for Trez himself?

The male was sound asleep; the text from Fritz had come through about ten minutes ago. The plan was to let the poor bastard rest for as long as possible. Then tell him they were going on a trip around the world.

If the way Trez had been in that bedroom of his was any indication? He wasn’t going to put up much fight. He’d been so out-of-it, iAm could have done open-heart surgery on him without putting him on a bypass machine.

Sooner or later that bubble of exhaustion and shock was going to wear off, and there was going to be some hard-core shit on the other side for sure. But they could cross that divide when they got there: First order of business was to secure the path out of Caldwell. Second was to get Trez moving. Third was to stay ghost.

As for the Brothers and the King? He was going to sign off to them all via text and leave his phone behind.

The Shadows could read minds if the situation called for it. If he left no trace and no way of being contacted? Then when Wrath told s’Ex or AnsLai or whomever from the s’Hisbe that he didn’t know where they were and didn’t help them escape? The truth was going to be verifiable and obvious.

That way the Brotherhood and the vampires would be safe.

Walking forward, he passed by the cars of the people he’d been working with for the last two years. Even though they were human, he was going to miss them—although not because he necessarily had deep personal relationships with them. It was more because he had enjoyed this stretch of his life. The cooking, the pretend stress, the demands.

Compared to what was really on his shoulders, it had been a nice relief, like going to see a movie when you needed a break.

Besides, here at Sal’s? If there was shit wrong, he could always manage to fix it.

Opening up the rear door, he stopped. The urgent voices, the clattering, the heat, the smells … for a moment, he had to blink quickly.

“Chef!” someone said. “You’re back!”

Instantly, people were coming at him, clapping his palms, talking at him, asking him questions.

God, I want to stay here, he thought.

As with so many nights, he changed train tracks in his head, stepping away from the Trez stuff to the things he wished he were free to think about all the time. The place was hopping during the after-hours cleanup, reports that their dining rooms had been full, and that a critic from Food & Wine had come in for a four-top, being told to him over and over.