Chapter 24 · The Anchor

"They're not stopping," Eliza says.

Valen's hand locks around her wrist as they hit the turn. The kitchen passage reeks—rot and something darker, something that used to be inside someone. Behind them, boots. Heavy. Steady. Not panicked.

That's the problem. Panicked guards trip over themselves. These ones are hunting.

"They won't." He yanks her left where the passage splits three ways. Uphill. Always up. "Contract law. You tore a sovereign document. That's not a fine, that's a noose."

She rips her wrist free and keeps pace. "I know what I did."

"Do you?" It comes out harsher than he means. But he can still see it—the contract chamber, the blood ink crawling back together, the second clause lighting up. *Binding obligation transfers to secundus heir upon primary refusal.* Lyria. Fourteen. Her name in the same red threads that had Eliza's.

Eliza doesn't answer. Her jaw's locked, eyes wet, but she's not crying.

Not yet.

The passage dumps them into a cellar. Barrels against the wall, most empty. There's a window high up, narrow, maybe wide enough for her. Valen crosses and grabs the grate. Rusted iron. He pulls.

It doesn't budge.

"Valen." Her voice drops. She's staring at the doorway.