Chapter 7 · The Rook Ledger

The Rook family archive smells like old money and older lies.

Mara's picking the lock on the side entrance when Julian grabs her wrist. "Wrong door," he says. His voice is flat. "That one's warded. You'll trigger every alarm from here to the execution tower."

"Then which door?" She doesn't pull away. Her pulse is still doing that thing where it syncs with his, a double beat under her skin that makes her want to claw her own chest open.

Julian points up. Third floor, corner window. The glass is dark.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not." He's already moving toward the drainpipe. "My bedroom. No wards. My father thought I was too broken to be a flight risk."

Mara follows because she doesn't have a choice. Her heartbeat won't let her get more than fifty feet from him before her ribs start cracking. She tested it twice on the way here. Fifty-two feet, and she was on her knees coughing blood.

The climb is worse than she expected. Her palms are still blistered from the key, and every time Julian's breath hitches, her lungs seize up in sympathy.