Chapter 13

The candle on the wall has burned down so low the wax has swallowed half the bronze holder. I’ve watched it die twice now—once when they lit it, once as it gutters toward nothing. Kian’s deadline is somewhere inside that shrinking ring of light. By dawn, he said, or he would “erase everyone tied to you.” Every breath tastes of damp stone and old incense. The cell is windowless, but I can feel the palace above me, layered like a heavy, jeweled crown: courtyards, lanterns, silk slippers...