EMBER’S POV

The VIP court is quieter, richer, sealed behind another set of black doors — a private room of luxury and low gold light, a single low table, chairs that cost more than I made in a year of my old life.

Cassian settles me in with a drink I have no intention of touching, murmurs that the mistress will attend me shortly, and withdraws.

And then it’s just me, and Knox, and the pounding of my own pulse.

Knox steps in close behind my chair, mask still on, and his voice comes low and rough and just for me.

“Whatever she is when that door opens — don’t...