We didn’t fuck with authority in this kingdom.
Dorian knew it. I felt him reaching for the sword at his waist—preparing for a slaughter of the two guard, or maybe killing one and forcing the other to raise the gate at the end of his sword.
Finn’s face flashed before me, the child he’d been. A mop of brown hair, always crouching by puddles to observe his dumb face. Shy, closed-off, scrutinizing. Innocent.
I set my hand over Dorian’s. We couldn’t do it like this. I had a better way.
He glanced at me over his shoulder—just before I threw my leg over and slid off the horse. My boots hit the cobblestones and I approached Finn, lifting my hands to my hood.
He stared back at me, brow furrowed, those skeptical brown eyes traveling over me. He didn’t recognize me; why would he expect a ghost?
I came closer, closer, until we stood so close together I could smell his morning breath. I threw my hood back. Exposed my hairless scalp to the light.
“Let us pass, Finn.”
Finn’s skepticism shifted into confusion—then shock. His eyebrows lifted, his eyes opened, and a pang of regret tightened my chest.
It was lovely to have someone remember you. Even when you’d changed so very, very much.
“Eury?” His eyes moved over my head, my clothes, back to my face. “Eurydice Waters?”
Beside him, Rowe observed me like I was a bug. “Can’t be. Eury’s dead. And she had hair.” Rowe was always great at the obvious.
“I know you know it’s me.” I stepped closer to Finn. He was the one I had to convince. “I don’t have time to explain, Finn, but if you don’t open this gate right now, the man on that horse is going to gut you.”
Behind me, the horse’s hoof clopped on the cobblestone as if it understood.
Finn’s attention flicked between us. “What in Arxius’s bloody?—”
“Please, Finn.”
Rowe pointed. “Where’s your hair gone?”
No time, no time.
I grabbed Finn’s collar with one hand and yanked my dagger from behind my back. Its blue glow flashed, smoke trailing as I set it to his neck. Numbness. Power. Under the sunlight, it hissed. “Open the motherfucking gate, Finn.”
It hurt to threaten him. But not as much as I’d thought it would.
Fear came into him, paralyzing his whole body. The shy boy. Puddle-starer. He’d always been subservient to me, always treated me like I was somehow better for walking with my chin up. He’d had that wonderful streak of skepticism, but not the balls to follow through on it.
Even now. Especially now.
“Please,” I whispered.
He stared, stared, as though searching me for real intent—and seemed to find it in my eyes. He nodded. “Open the gate, Rowe,” he murmured. “The quick release.”
“But—”
“Do it. Now.”
I held the dagger to Finn’s neck as Rowe moved in my periphery.He crossed to the wheel, engaged the mechanisms I’d watched the guard manipulate so godsdamn many times when the scouts came and went.
The gate clanged, then began to rise. Hooves sounded on the cobblestones, distant but nearing.
“Eury,” Dorian said, low.
I let go of Finn’s collar. Nodded once at him and replaced the dagger under my cloak. I held Finn’s gaze a second longer before I turned.