She took a step forward, her shoes clicking against the stone.
“Em—Mary.” Aren’s soft voice came from behind her, and she whirled around. He peeked out from behind a corner.
She rushed down the dark hallway to him. The sounds of the dinner drifted away. The curtains were drawn over the windows, and the lantern across from them wasn’t lit. If she knew Aren, he’d extinguished it himself.
“You know that hunter?” she whispered.
“I ran into him a few months ago. I killed his two buddies. He got away.”
“He’s been drinking, and he didn’t look like he was sure. Maybe he’ll give up when he can’t find you.”
“Or he’ll tell someone his suspicions.”
Footsteps pounded the floor, a dark shape suddenly appearing around the corner. The figure came toward Em and Aren until she could clearly see Willem’s furious face.
“I know you.” He reached for the dagger on his belt. “I know—”
Em grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back before he could find his weapon. Aren grabbed the dagger and pressed it to Willem’s throat.
“It needs to look like an accident,” Em said quickly. “A murder will make the entire castle suspicious.”
Willem sputtered as he fought against Aren’s hold on his throat.
“Get out of here,” Aren said, jerking his head at Em. “They can’t find you with us.”
Em opened her mouth to protest, even though she knew he was right.
“I have one more round before I can . . .” A laugh echoed through the hallway, and Aren and Em’s heads snapped up to find the source of the male voice.
Willem opened his mouth, a squeak escaping. Em clapped her hand over it. Aren slammed his hands against Willem’s chest, pushing him flat against the wall with the dagger jabbed into his throat. Willem kicked his leg, bucking his body wildly. Aren narrowed his eyes at the man’s legs, using his Ruined magic to make them go limp.
Willem tried to yell, the noise muffled by Em’s hand. She pressed down harder.
“Em, get out of here,” Aren breathed.
“Stop. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” the male voice said, closer this time.
Two guards appeared at the end of the hallway. Em stilled, not even daring to breathe. She recognized one of them.
Galo was the one who’d just spoken, and he smiled at the guard in front of him, oblivious to the three people only a few steps to his right.
The other guard grinned, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Galo’s lips. He said something Em couldn’t hear, then turned to walk away, throwing a smile at Galo over his shoulder.
Galo laughed, ducking his head as he slid his hands into his pockets. He began to turn to the right, in the direction of the dark hallway. Em sucked in a breath.
“Are we standing, or are we doing rounds?” a gruff voice called.
Galo’s gaze snapped forward. “Sorry, Julio.” He strode forward and out of sight.
Em’s legs almost collapsed under her in relief.
“A round means he’s doing a walk around the castle,” Aren whispered. “He’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Close his windpipe off,” Em said, using her other hand to cover Willem’s nose.
“You should get out—”
“If you lose hold of him after I leave, it will be even worse. Do it.”
Aren fixed his gaze on Willem’s throat. The hunter’s legs started to move. Closing off a windpipe took intense focus, and Aren couldn’t control the legs at the same time. Em shoved her body against Willem’s in an attempt to keep him still.
“I was supposed to be done with this,” Aren said through gritted teeth. “I was supposed to be done killing hunters before they killed me.”
“I know,” she said quietly. Willem’s body went limp, his head slumping to the side.
“Damian was supposed to lead the Ruined into Olso, not rot in some Lera cell while I stand guard over the people torturing him.” His voice was strangled, and getting too loud.
Em threw a glance over her shoulder, her heart beating in her throat. They were still alone, for now.
“I can’t let go yet,” Aren said more quietly. “He’s not dead yet.”
Em nodded and left her hands over Willem’s mouth and nose for almost a full minute. When Aren finally took a step back, the hunter’s eyes were open, staring blankly past them.
She braced her hands against Willem’s shoulders, keeping him upright. “Help me get him over to that table. We’ll bash his head on the corner. He reeks of alcohol. Won’t be hard to believe he fell.”
Aren grabbed the left side of his body, grunting beneath the weight.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Fine.” But his legs shook, beads of sweat appearing on his brow. Using his magic had weakened him.
“Do you still keep count? I used to count how many I killed,” Aren said as they stopped next to the table.
“Nah. I stopped several months ago. Turn him a little.” She grunted from the strain of Willem’s weight.
“Right there?” Aren asked, pointing to the edge of the table.