“Master Tieren,” he said casually, as if the informality of his voice could cover up the fact that he and Lila were streaked with blood and standing in front of the body of a nearly dead prince.

“Kell,” said the man, frowning deeply. “Kers la? Ir vanesh mer.…” And then he trailed off and looked at Lila. His eyes were pale and startlingly blue; they seemed to go straight through her. His brow furrowed, and then he began speaking again, this time in English. As if he could tell, with a single glance, that she did not understand, did not belong. “What brings you here?” he asked, addressing both of them.

“You said I would always have a room,” answered Kell wearily. “I’m afraid I had need of it.”

He stepped aside so that Master Tieren could see the wounded prince.

The man’s eyes went wide, and he touched his fingers to his lips in a small prayer-like gesture. “Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” said Kell, hand drifting to his collar to hide the mark. “But the palace is under attack. I cannot explain everything, not now, but you must believe me, Tieren. It has been taken by traitors. They are using forbidden magic, possessing the bodies and minds of those around them. No one is safe—nowhere is safe—and no one is to be trusted.” He was breathless by the time he finished.

Tieren crossed to Kell in a handful of slow strides. He took Kell’s face in his hands, the gesture strangely intimate, and looked into his eyes as he had Lila’s, as if he could see past them. “What have you done to yourself?”

Kell’s voice caught in his throat. “Only what I had to.” His coat had fallen open, and the man’s gaze drifted down to the blackened mark over Kell’s heart. “Please,” he said, sounding frightened. “I would not have brought danger into these halls, but I had no choice.”

The man’s hands fell away. “The sanctuary is warded against darkness. The prince will be safe within these walls.”

Relief swept across Kell’s features. Tieren turned to consider Lila a second time.

“You are not from here,” he said by way of introduction.

Lila held out her hand. “Delilah Bard.”

The man took it, and something like a shiver, but warmer, passed beneath her skin, a calm spreading through her in its wake. “My name is Master Tieren,” he said. “I am the onase aven—that is to say, the head priest—of the London Sanctuary. And a healer,” he added, as if to explain the sensation. Their hands fell apart, and Tieren went to the prince’s side and brought his bony fingers to rest feather-light on top of Rhy’s chest. “His injuries are severe.”

“I know,” said Kell shakily. “I can feel them as if they were my own.”

Lila tensed, and Tieren’s expression darkened. “Then I will do what I can to ease his pain, and yours.”

Kell nodded gratefully. “It’s my fault,” he said. “But I will set things right.” Tieren opened his mouth to speak, but Kell stopped him. “I cannot tell you,” he said. “I must ask for your trust as well as your discretion.”

Tieren’s mouth became a thin line. “I will lead you to the tunnels,” he said. “From there you will be able to find your way. Whichever way you need.”

*   *   *

Kell had been silent since leaving the small room. He hadn’t been able to look at his brother, hadn’t been able to say good-bye, had only swallowed and nodded and turned away, following Master Tieren out. Lila trailed behind, picking Rhy’s dried blood from the cuffs of her new coat (she supposed she would have had to get her hands—and sleeves—dirty sooner or later). As they made their way through the bowels of the sanctuary, she watched Kell and the way his gaze hung on Tieren, as if willing the priest to say something. But the priest kept his mouth shut and his eyes ahead, and eventually Kell’s step began to trail, until he and Lila were side by side in the head priest’s wake.

“The clothing suits you,” he said quietly. “Do I want to know how you came by it?”

Lila tilted her head. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking. I bought it from a woman in the market named Calla.”

Kell smiled faintly at the name. “And how did you pay for it?”

“I haven’t yet,” retorted Lila. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.” Her gaze dropped away. “Though I don’t know when I’ll have the chance…”

“You will,” said Kell. “Because you’re staying here.”

“Like hell I am,” shot Lila.

“The sanctuary will keep you safe.”

“I will not be left behind.”

Kell shook his head. “You were never meant to go farther. When I said yes, I did so with the intent to leave you here, in my city, to deliver word of my fate to the king and queen.” Lila drew a breath, but he held up his uninjured hand. “And to keep you safe. White London is no place for a Grey-worlder. It’s no place for anyone.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. “I’m going with you.”

“Lila, this isn’t some game. Enough people have died, and I—”

“You’re right, it’s not a game,” pressed Lila. “It’s strategy. I heard what the queen said about the stone being broken in two. You need to dispose of both pieces, and as of right now, you only have one. The White king has the other, right? Which means we have our work cut out for us. And it is we, Kell. Two of them means there should be two of us as well. You can take the king, and I’ll handle the queen.”