He moved like a wraith, slipping through the polished stone halls of Atreaum with calculated silence. Elian couldn't unchain his Grimoire, but he could glamour its light to look like a regular book.
Too risky to use the front door.
Elian slipped beneath a grate instead and walked beneath the guards patrolling the hallways. His goal was to get to the underground tunnels before daybreak.
As long as he left the castle, the Queen could fake his death for all he cared. Her heart was incredibly fickle. But perhaps it had always been, and Lucian rejecting her summons was the last straw.
"Maybe she has a problem with morticians not following her orders," he muttered, and nearly jumped out of the grate when a guard's boot stomped on the floor, snuffing out a cigarette.
"Have you heard about Elian?"
He shouldn't have been surprised to hear his name again.
But this time, it wasn't from the Queen's lips.
It was from the guards.
