Midnight came with the sound of thunder.
We'd slipped away from our guard posts during a particularly energetic waltz, using the crowd as cover. The palace was a labyrinth of marble corridors and velvet curtains, lit by enchanted candles that cast everything in romantic amber light.
"I hate how pretty this place is," Seol-ah muttered, hiking up her dress to move faster. "It makes me want to set it on fire just on principle."
The North Tower was older than the rest of the palace. The romantic aesthetic gave way to something more austere. Stone instead of marble. Iron instead of gold. We climbed the spiral stairs quickly, weapons drawn—our real weapons, which we'd hidden in dimensional storage before the banquet.
Raven was waiting at the top, standing by a window that overlooked the sleeping city. She'd changed out of her ball gown into practical black leather armor. Two daggers hung at her hips, and she was studying a map spread across a rough wooden table.
