Chapter 17 · The Fire at Morrow Estate

"You know this place." Cedric's hand locked around my wrist before I could reach the glowing coordinates under the stone table.

His thumb pressed against my pulse. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to remind me that the archive belonged to him now—and so did my escape route.

"I know a mark on a wall," I said. "Try not to confuse that with loyalty."

His eyes dropped to the red lines crawling across the table. The shape was burned into my blood. A tower. A broken arch. The western wing of Morrow Estate.

My home.

Or what was left of it.

Cedric leaned closer. His coat brushed my shoulder, black wool against my torn sleeve. "You opened the royal archive with Lucian's key and your blood. You knew the location before the map appeared. That's more than a mark."

"Then ask a better question."

"Fine." His grip tightened. "How many times have you been inside the ruins?"

"Never."

The oath scar beneath my collar burned.

Cedric saw my face change. His gaze sharpened. "That was a lie."

"No. That was a word you didn't like."

"The blood oath doesn't care what I like.