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“When Wyrick and I had our disagreement.”
    Ramie didn’t seem to notice Michel’s hesitation. He walked over to the open wall and peered inside. Turning to Lazo, he pointed. “If Valor discovered the tunnels he could have killed Wyrick himself without anyone’s awareness.”
    “No,” Michel said. “I skirted every passageway. No trail leads to Wyrick’s chambers, but one leads to Ren’s.”
    Lazo rose from his seat. “From where?”
    “The third room in the guest suites. Do you know who was staying there?”
    A blinding fear clutched Lazo’s chest. “Manda and Chris.”
    “Have you seen them since Ren’s capture?”
    Lazo shook his head. “No.”
    Michel’s voice lowered. “I overheard Valor talking to his chancellor. They’re sending two people away from the castle tonight. It didn’t sound favorable.”
    “May the Maker have mercy,” Lazo whispered. “Valor’s own children tried to warn Ren.”
    Quinton pushed back his chair, jaw clenched in worry. “I’ll send a troop after them.”
    “How?” Ramie asked. “Valor isn’t letting anyone leave the grounds.”
    Michel tapped the wood above the hollow. “They can leave through here. This passage moves underground, through an old, abandoned silver mine, and ends beside the orchard outside the city walls. I fettered some of my horses there. I can show them the way.”
    - - -
    The night was overcast and shadows lingered around every corner. Manda glanced back at Stardom, a knot of horror in her stomach. She would never see Ren again. May the Maker have mercy. She was riding to her death.
    Vos rode before her, a rope linking her saddle to his. The moonlight danced on his pasty skin as if caressing a lover. His limp, black hair fluttered in the slight breeze, drawing attention to his gaunt neck. Manda shuddered. The twins’ had always unnerved her. Now she understood her aversion. They belonged to the Collective. They defied goodness and light.
    Manda twisted her hands, trying to undo the ropes that bound her, but it was futile. There was little feeling in her limbs.
    Beside her, Chris lay tied to his mount. He had yet to open his eyes.
    The gates of the castle loomed before them, but the grounds were eerily quiet. Everyone from the highest-ranking official to the lowliest stable hand was attending a banquet honoring the new king of Zier. Even if she could scream through her gag, no one would hear her.
    When they reached the gates, Manda’s hopes flared. Evann, one of Crape’s most trusted soldiers, was standing guard. She had known Evann for years, long before Ista and the twins had entered her father’s service. Surely Evann hadn’t been swayed to the order of the Collective.
    Evann quietly talked with a Fest soldier who stood outside the gates. Manda had always envied Evann’s sun-bleached locks, but the Fest soldier’s white-gold hair was a beacon in the moonlight, damning the darkness surrounding him.
    “I have a message for Lorlier,” the Fest soldier said as he pushed a rolled papyrus through the iron bars. His eyes drifted to the twins, then Manda. There was absolution in his gaze, and for a brief heartbeat Manda thought the Maker had sent her an angel.
    Evann took the message and inspected the seal. He began raising the portcullis before he detected the twins’ slight movement behind him.
    Evann lifted his hand to halt their approach, but when his eyes caught Manda, bound and gagged, his face became steel. He reached for his sword.
    “Hold your weapon,” the twins said in unison. “We have orders from Valor.”
    Evann drew his sword anyway. Within a heartbeat he had it pointed at Vos’s throat. Manda held her breath as Vos lifted a parchment from the folds of his robe. Her father’s seal glimmered in the torchlight. Evann took it but didn’t back away.
    “You,” Evann said, holding it out to the Fest soldier, “read this.”
    The soldier ducked under the half-raised portcullis and took the note. Although his face was