Kara shifted in the bed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but it also wasn’t hers. Every time the too slick pillowcase shifted against her cheek, she was reminded of why she was here. Secrets itched against every attempt to relax. Couldn’t she just escape for a minute?

  She stared at the canopy that was faintly visible above her. Thoughts seemed to press against her, too heavy for sleep. She wasn’t going to be able to relax. Not with so many puzzle pieces drifting around like landmines. Teorin had secrets. Siera had secrets. No one seemed to have the full truth.

  And Siera… The woman wasn’t wrong about Novem, but something about her felt… off. She was hiding something. Kara just didn’t know what.

  Of course, despite Siera’s insistence that being here was a choice, Kara knew better. They’d kidnapped her. She was now a threat. They wouldn’t want her running to Novem or governmental authorities.

  She was only leaving if this all blew over, or she escaped. Working with Siera was the only real way forward. That wasn’t the question. The question was whether she turned over her discovery about the possible underground lab to Siera or not.

  Should she just pretend to play along and gather whatever information she could, or was real cooperation with Siera the better play?

  And then there was the other party who’d snuck into all this: Isi. She’d returned the necklace, but was that just some manipulation? She seemed sly enough to be playing everyone, but could be working for Siera or had her own agenda.

  Kara groaned. She didn’t have enough information to make a decision. Unfortunately, she wasn’t going to learn anything lying in bed. She kicked off the covers and pulled on a pair of athletic pants and a t-shirt she’d found in the closet and made her way back to the computer room.

  The hallways were empty. She still hesitated at every doorway, thinking someone would stop her, but no one did. Maybe no one cared.

  Finally, she arrived back at her ‘temporary office’ and settled in behind the desk, and the console lit up. She typed in a name: Dionira da Silva.

  Hits filled the screen; she filtered through them. Some of them looked familiar, events linked to the death of the sister Siera had mentioned before, Isi’s mother.

  Others…

  For all the da Silvas’ refinement and structure, it seems even their heirs can be undone by broad shoulders and what more than one source described as “stunning green eyes.”

  Her heart fluttered, remembering another pair of green eyes she’d encountered recently. The last time she’d seen those eyes… Siera’s words flickered through. Lev burned. Teorin hadn’t seemed cruel. Confused maybe, but not cruel. Would he help Lev?

  She shoved the thought away. It wasn’t helpful. Not right now. Kara focused back on the article.

  Is this a love story? A rebellion? Or is Dionira simply bored of suitors with family crests on their signet rings?

  Kara let out a sharp laugh. The Rag and Thread article read like the sort of thing people wrote about Lev only crueler. She knew exactly how things like this lied, but… that didn’t mean Isi was innocent, and who was this mysterious suitor?

  Articles like this exaggerated, but she also knew Lev well enough to know there were usually crumbs of truth hidden in the gaps.

  What was Isi’s angle? None of these quite fit the pieces together. She needed more information. Information she wasn’t going to get on the net, and she needed a way out if things got too dangerous. Kara shoved back from the console. It was time to take a risk.

  ***

  Kara slid into the sculpture garden room a few minutes later. The lights rose slowly, dimmer than before. Atmospheric? Maybe. It just made the sculpture garden feel eerie, like someone was waiting to jump out of the shadows.

  She ignored the feeling and wove through the statues to the burstdoor. It opened onto a moonlit balcony. Selene was full tonight, and the courtyard’s white stone path glowed faintly in the moonlight, while the trees and shrubs were lost in shadow. The fountain’s quiet splash was the only sound.

  Kara eyed the wall. The ivy-covered trellis was within reach. It looked sturdy, but hard to judge beneath the leaves. She moved to the railing and looked down. Four stories. No easy way back if the trellis failed.

  What was she doing? Maybe there was a better way down.

  Except she’d spent nearly an hour searching earlier. There wasn’t. And there probably wouldn’t be any risk-free escape route. Besides, Kara had a feeling her freedom was only going to shrink. Right now, she had leverage. That wouldn’t last.

  She took a breath, steeling herself. Swinging a leg over the stone balcony, she rested a foot on the outer edge. Slowly, she reached for the trellis. Her hand brushed past the ivy to the wooden frame beneath. She gave it a firm tug.

  It didn’t budge.

  Good.

  She shifted to the outside of the balcony, then eased one foot onto a crossbeam. It seemed sturdy, but how was she supposed to trust that? How in the world did Lev do this all the time?

  Maybe she should have asked him to teach her, except she’d never expected to be in this situation. It was fine. If he were here, he’d tease her about panicking at four stories instead of eight. She knew how to roll if she fell… except it was a very long way down.

  She bit her lip, then gathered her courage and found another foothold, pushing herself off the balcony before she could think about it and shifting her full weight to the trellis.

  It held.

  Kara carefully worked her way down, fingers gripping the wood as she avoided the thickest ivy. Two feet. Five. Fifteen. Just two more floors—tall ones.

  She was level with a second-story window when she heard the first crack. Sharp. Quick. Then there was another crack, one that rattled her bones.

  For a moment, nothing happened. She let out a breath of relief. There was a grating sound, and the trellis shifted. The whole world tilted as the entire portion of trellis that she was on leaned away from the building.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Not the slats, the entire structure. She searched frantically for a handhold, something, but the garden trees were too far. The window was glass.

  There was a lurch. Kara clung tight as the trellis stopped, now tilted at a 30-degree angle. And supported entirely by a web of ivy. Ivy that probably wouldn’t hold much longer.

  She scrambled lower, but the movement made the ivy shift. A strand snapped. Then another.

  She glanced back. The nearest tree was ten feet away. Thick branches. Maybe strong enough.

  Another snap.

  Kara whimpered. The trellis shuddered, then fell.

  She leapt, shoving off with all her strength, reaching for the tree. Her fingers brushed leaves. She wasn’t far enough. She shrieked as the branches slipped past.

  Then something solid slammed around her middle, squeezing tight, knocking the breath from her lungs. Not rope, not wood—alive. Arms? The little Kinetic memory she had rebelled: not arms she recognized.

  Below, the trellis crashed into the garden with a brutal crack.

  But Kara didn’t. She was hanging, suspended.

  She gasped, struggling for air, pressure still tight around her ribs. Then suddenly, breath returned in a burst. She was alive. Still descending, slowly. Her feet touched down. The pressure released.

  She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to work the tension out of her fingers. The memory of gripping the trellis too tightly lingered, her skin still tingling.

  She spun, searching for her rescuer. Nothing. Just the wall and the shattered wood.

  She exhaled shakily, arms still wrapped around herself. “Hello?” she whispered.

  “Shhh!”

  The air in front of her shimmered, then Isi came into view.

  “What—” Kara began, but Isi held a finger to her lips.

  Keys jingled somewhere nearby, and Isi sprang into motion. She unhooked wires from a harness on her hips and gave them a sharp tug. The cords zipped upward, vanishing into the dark above. She moved fast, grabbing Kara’s wrist and firmly yanking her back. Before Kara could react, she was pinned between Isi and the bark of a tree.

  Then Isi vanished. Kara glanced down, but she could still see herself. Her heart beat faster. Did the illusion cover them both? It had to, right?

  A man Kara didn’t recognize stepped into the courtyard, light spilling from his fingers. A guard. He must’ve heard her scream or the trellis crashing down. The light from his hand swept across the courtyard—once, twice—lingering for a breath as it passed over them.

  Kara tensed.

  The light moved on.

  The guard paused near the fallen trellis, examining the splintered wood. Then the beam turned.

  Back toward their tree. And stayed there.

  Kara’s pulse hammered in her ears, but the guard said nothing. Eventually, the light shifted, scanning the next tree.

  Kara didn’t breathe. Isi’s illusion was clearly working. How was unclear, but for a second, Kara had the ridiculous urge to examine it. What was she thinking? That was exactly the sort of thin Lev teased her about.

  The guard did a quick sweep of the courtyard, checking under benches, behind trees, even peeking into a few maintenance closets. Finally, he shrugged, muttered something under his breath, and turned back the way he’d come.

  Hopefully, he thought the trellis had just rotted through. Kara finally exhaled. Isi stepped back, and the illusion dropped. She gave Kara a quick once-over, brushed some dirt from her jacket, and said dryly, “The trellises aren’t really meant to hold people.”

  Then she turned and walked away.

  Kara blinked, still stunned. What just happened?

  “Wait!” Kara called after her.

  Isi paused, glanced back, but didn’t stop. She tilted her head slightly, a silent invitation to follow. Kara ran to catch up as Isi continued toward one of the courtyard’s wooden doors.

  “Why did you save me?” Kara demanded. Because Isi had saved her, from broken limbs at the very least.

  Isi chuckled. “Did you want me to let you fall?”

  “No, but I don't understand—”

  “I told you,” Isi interrupted. “I'm on your side. Sort of. More than Siera or anyone else in this house, anyway.”

  “If you’re on my side, why were you out here in the first place?”

  Isi paused at the door leading out of the courtyard and rolled her eyes. “I was following you, of course. Is there really any other explanation? Just because I’m not on Siera’s side doesn’t mean that I won’t keep tabs on you.”

  It was a more honest answer than Kara expected, but then again, maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. Isi had been pretty blunt so far, and she was continually doing things that Kara couldn’t make sense of. Like returning valuable stolen property.

  “Why did you give my necklace back?” Kara asked.

  Isi blinked. “It's yours. I didn't want Siera to have it, but I wasn't planning on keeping it forever.”

  “So, you didn't look at it?”

  “Oh, I definitely looked at it,” Isi said with a grin. “I'm not that chivalrous. You've got some interesting stuff on there, don't you?” Her grin turned sly. “I didn’t expect you to steal from Novem. You seem like the goody two-shoes type, no offense, but I guess I misjudged you.”

  Kara flushed. Isi had definitely hacked into the memory stick, but Siera didn’t seem to know. Maybe Isi was telling the truth about not being on Siera’s side at least. “But why—”

  Isi interrupted again. “Look, I'll answer your questions if you want, but not here. Too many listening ears. If you want answers, you are going to have to follow me to somewhere more conducive to an open conversation.”

  Kara hesitated. She wasn’t sure about Isi, but following her didn’t feel like much of a risk. At worst, she’d see more of the first floor. Maybe even get a few answers.

  If Isi was working with Siera, then Siera wanted this anyway. And if she wasn’t… maybe Kara had found a real ally. That was enough for now. Kara nodded. “Lead on.”

  Isi grinned. “Lovely.” She slipped a long cloak from her backpack and tossed it to Kara, who caught it.

  The fabric unfurled, and Kara found herself holding a sparkling length of fabric. It was surprisingly, soft, even with the embedded crystal netting. A luminance cloak?

  “I’m not—” Kara started.

  Isi cut her off with a chuckle. “Oh, I know you’re a Memoran. I modified it. It’s for me to hide you. The bottom floors have a few more inhabitants than you’ve seen, so stay close.”

  Isi tugged a crystal-lined rod from the sleeve. “These need to stay in contact with the pads on my shoulders,” she said, tapping the shimmery sections on her jacket. “Got it?”

  Kara nodded. She’d seen crystal-threaded fashion before. It was incredibly popular among Luminars for color-shifting effects. But nothing like this. “Did you design it?” Kara asked.

  Isi smiled. “I wish. I put in plenty of practice to use it, but it’s been passed down in my family with each generation tweaking or improving it.”

  Right. It made sense the da Silvas would have something like that.

  Kara opened her mouth to ask another question, but Isi gave her a look that said she was done talking.

  Kara slipped on the cloak, placed her hands on Isi’s shoulders, and aligned the rods with the contact points. Isi was taller, limiting Kara’s view. But she didn’t need to see, just follow.

  “Good,” Isi said. “When I stop, you stop. I’ll cloak your movements as best I can, but two people is more difficult. Thankfully, most lights are dim right now. And obviously, no talking until we get there. Understood?”

  “Yes,” Kara said.

  Isi hummed. “Let’s go.” She opened the door and slipped into the hall. Kara followed.

  This wing of the house had fewer paintings and colder lighting, almost sterile. Isi reached up and gave Kara’s hand a quick squeeze. Kara nearly stumbled as Isi stopped.

  So that was the signal.

  A woman passed the intersection ahead, arms full of bedsheets. She didn’t even glance their way. They moved on, winding through the halls.

  At the next sharp turn, a man came straight toward them. Kara’s heart jumped. Isi froze and edged aside. Kara mirrored the movement, pulse thudding in her ears.

  Kara held her breath, waiting for him to call them out, but Isi smoothly maneuvered out of his path. He walked right past. Apparently, Isi was better at this than she let on. The lights were low, like Isi had said, but cloaking a second person had to be tricky.

  They made another turn, and Isi opened a door to a narrow stairwell. She listened, then said, “You can let go now. Four floors up.”

  Kara released her, and they climbed quickly. At the top, Isi pushed open a thick oak door. The hallway beyond looked familiar—decorative lamps, the occasional painting. Not the same as anywhere she’d been but a similar style. Maybe this was behind one of the locked doors she’d encountered earlier. She’d been on the fourth floor.

  Isi led her down the hall, fingers trailing the wall. Then she stopped, felt along a seam, and there was a soft click. A hidden panel popped open.

  Kara blinked. Secret rooms? Really?

  Isi just shot her a grin before tugging her inside. The door slid shut, leaving them in darkness.

  Hopefully, the kind that led to answers.

  [Lev] Here’s my weekly rent. I can totally relate to memory being a pain. Maybe not to being a vampire, though... unless a touch vampire counts? Actually, that just makes me sound insane. Forget I said anything.