Page 33 of To Dance with Death

The woman who pressed her lips to his in Razam.

Whom he backed up against a wall.

It startles me into action. I step back until I’m hidden from view.

I stay low until I’ve escaped through the doors, throwing a last glance over my shoulder once I’m safely outside.

He has risen from his throne.

Chapter Eleven

Quickly, I duck behind the line of souls and weave my way outside the throne room, but a glance over my shoulder reveals four guard-beings moving my way.

Panicked, I run.

I race down another corridor, fly down a set of nearby stairs. Stars spray across my vision, my pulse a stampede. I trip over the gown I still wear. Slam against corners. Another glance over my shoulder reveals two, three—

Four of them are still after me.

Frantic, I aim toward the corridor in the distance, scattered with souls. It splits in three directions. I veer left, yanking open the first door I can find. Jerking it closed behind me, I find myself in a stairwell that leads down a single floor. I skip several steps as I descend, slowing only once I realize they must not have seen where I went. A relief.

It’s a quiet floor, with tall stone walls and several doors. A few stairwells curving up and down.

I take a moment to catch my breath, leaning against a pillar.

Anton knows I’m in Morta’s Lair. I squeeze my eyes shut,rummaging for excuses, anything I might say in the chance that I’m caught. Perhaps he’ll think I’m dead…

“I see you found your way to the palace after all.”

The voice snakes down my spine. I shudder as I turn, finding Illian there, tattered clothes and all. His smile inches up a degree when I set my eyes upon his face.

He comes toward me.

I step back.

He tilts his head. “I am only here to fulfill my duty to service the palace, you will be pleased to hear.”

“You’re a Shadow,” I say, understanding.

“And you,” he says, “are not an Exalted.”

“No, but I’m not a soul, either.”

It occurs to me then that I don’t know whether a soul can hurt a mortal. Instinctively, I take another step back.

Again he smiles, as if reading my thoughts. “Why would I harm you? With your list of sins, the blood on your hands—mine included—you will end up here with me soon enough.”

My stomach plummets. He isn’t wrong; two men died at my hands. But I can’t let him distract me. “Moranya. How can I find her?”

A shrug. “You cannot.”

“Why?”

“Because none of us knows where she is.”

“The Abyssal, then. Where is it?”

“And why do you want to know?”