We enter the building and are greeted by the almost musical ring of clashing scims. Ahead of us, a training room door stands open, and gold torchlight pours into the hallway. A pair of Masks battles within, each brandishing two slender scims.

“It’s Veturius,” Izzi says. “And Aquilla. They’ve been at it for ages.”

As I watch them fight, I find that I’m holding my breath. They move like dancers, whirling back and forth across the room, graceful, liquid, deadly.

And so swift, like shadows on the surface of a river. If I wasn’t watching it with my own eyes, I would never believe anyone could move that fast.

Veturius knocks the scim from Aquilla’s hand, and he is on her, their bodies entangled as they wrestle across the floor with a strange, intimate violence.

He is all muscle and force, and yet I can see in the way he fights that he is holding himself back. He is refusing to unleash his whole strength on her.

Even still, there is an animal freedom to how he moves, a controlled chaos that makes the air around him blaze. So different from Keenan, with his restrained solemnity and cool interest.

Why are you comparing them, anyway?

I turn from the Aspirants. “Izzi, come on.”

The building seems empty other than Veturius and Aquilla, but Izzi and I edge along the walls carefully in case there’s a student or Centurion lurking.

We turn the corner, and I recognize the doors the Farrars used when I saw them enter here the first time, nearly a week ago.

“Here, Laia.” Izzi slips behind one of the pillars and raises her hand to a brick that, at first glance, looks like all the others. She taps it. With a quiet groan, a section of stone swings away into darkness. Lamplight illuminates a narrow, descending staircase. I look down, barely daring to believe what I’m seeing, then envelop Izzi in a grateful hug.

“Izzi, you did it!”

I don’t understand why she’s not smiling back until her face goes rigid and she grabs me.

“Shhh,” she says. “Listen.”

The flat tones of a Mask’s voice echo from the tunnel, and the stairwell glows with approaching torchlight.

“Close it!” Izzi says. “Quickly, before they see!”

I put my hand to the brick, tapping it frantically.

Nothing happens.

“—pretend you don’t see it, but you do.” A vaguely familiar voice rises from the stairwell as I paw at the brick. “You’ve always known how I feel about her. Why do you torment her? Why do you hate her so much?”

“She’s an Illustrian snob. She’d never have you anyway.”

“Maybe if you’d left her alone, I’d have had a chance.”

“She’s our enemy, Zak. She’s going to die. Get over it.”

“Then why did you tell her that you two are meant to be? Why do I get the feeling that you want her to be your Blood Shrike instead of me?”

“I’m messing with her head, you bleeding idiot. And apparently it’s working so well that even you’re affected.”

I recognize the voices now—Marcus and Zak. Izzi pushes me aside and punches at the brick. The entrance remains stubbornly open.

“Forget it!” Izzi says. “Come on!”

She grabs me, but Marcus’s face emerges at the bottom of the stairwell, and, spotting me, he bounds up, reaching me in two strides.

“Run!” I shout at Izzi.

Marcus grabs for Izzi, but I shove her out of the way, and his arm wraps around my neck instead, choking off my air. He wrenches my head back, and I stare into his pale yellow eyes.

“What’s this? Spying, wench? Trying to find a way to sneak out of the school?”

Izzi stands unmoving in the hallway, right eye wide in terror. I can’t let her get caught. Not after all she’s done for me.

“Go, Iz!” I scream. “Run!”

“Get her, you twit,” Marcus roars at his brother, who has just emerged from the tunnel. Zak makes a half-hearted effort to grab Izzi, but she wrenches out of his grasp and runs back the way we came.

“Marcus, come on.” Zak sounds exhausted and looks longingly toward the heavy oak doors that lead outside. “Leave her be. We have to be up early.”

“Don’t you remember her, Zak?” Marcus says. I struggle and try to kick the soft place between his foot and ankle, but he yanks me off my feet. “She’s the Commandant’s girl.”

“She’s expecting me,” I choke out.

“She won’t mind if you’re late.” Marcus smiles, a jackal’s grin. “I made you a promise that day, outside her office, remember? I told you that one night, you’d be alone in a dark hallway and I’d find you. I always keep my promises.”

Zak groans. “Marcus—”

“If you want to be such a eunuch, little brother,” Marcus says, “then piss off and leave me to my entertainment.”

Zak regards his twin for a moment. Then he sighs and walks away.

No! Come back!

“Just you and me, beautiful,” Marcus whispers in my ear. I bite viciously at his arm and try to wriggle away, but he spins me around by my neck and shoves me against the pillar.

“Shouldn’t have fought,” he says. “I would have gone easy on you. But then, I like a little spirit in my women.” His fist comes whistling toward my face. An infinite, explosive moment later, my head hits the stone behind me with a sickening smack, and I’m seeing double.