Magnolia's feet pounded against the ground.

  Her lungs screamed. Her legs burned. The night air knifed through her thin clothes as she tore down the unfamiliar street, past darkened shopfronts and guttering streetlamps, her reflection a blur in rain-slicked windows.

  How did I get here?

  The question hammered at her skull with every stride. The last thing she remembered was Loric's room, him touching her.

  Her begging for someone to save her. Seeing the garden… The guy who had proclaimed himself to be king. And then a fog where her memory should have been.

  Now she was running through streets she didn't recognize, her body moving on instinct, and somewhere behind her—

  "They're getting closer, you know."

  The voice unfurled in her mind like a lazy cat stretching in the sun. Deep. Amused. Utterly unconcerned with her terror.

  "Might want to pick up the pace, brat. Unless you want to see what those hounds do to pretty little runaways."

  "What—" Magnolia gasped, nearly stumbling over a broken part of the road. "What did you do to me?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I was in Loric's house. Now I'm here." She ducked around a corner, her shoulder clipping the edge of a building. "What. Did. You. Do."

  The voice laughed.

  It wasn't a pleasant sound. It rumbled through her skull like distant thunder, rich with mockery and something darker that made her skin crawl and her instincts shriek danger.

  "You're accusing me?" The voice dripped with theatrical offense. "How cruel. Here I thought we were becoming such good friends."

  "Cut the crap!"

  "Ah, there's that attitude." She could feel it grinning. "Fine, fine. You want to know what happened? I took over your body. And apparently, did something that made some very important people very, very angry." A pause, thick with amusement. "Honestly, it was quite entertaining. But don’t worry, I’ve returned your body exactly how I found it."

  Magnolia's blood ran cold. "You—you made this happen—"

  "Made?" The word came sharp now, edged with contempt. "Don't confuse yourself, brat. I simply helped you when you asked."

  "Then help me!" The words ripped out of her before she could stop them. Desperate. Pathetic. She hated how they sounded.

  Silence.

  Then the voice spoke again, slower this time. Almost gentle. The way a predator might be gentle with prey it was savoring.

  "Help you?" it repeated. "I already did. Once. Remember?"

  The noble's estate.

  The memory hit her like a fist.

  "You begged so prettily," the voice murmured. "'Save me!' And I did. I gave you exactly what you needed." Its tone hardened. "That was my favor, brat. Used. Spent. Gone. Consider it my rent for living in your body. Don't expect another."

  "You bastard—"

  "Run faster." The voice cut over her, bored now. "Or don't. Either way—" It laughed again, softer this time, almost fond. "—don't stop entertaining me."

  "Screw you!"

  The only answer was silence.

  The voice had retreated, sinking back into whatever dark corner of her mind it called home, leaving her alone with her burning lungs and failing legs and the sound of pursuit growing closer behind her.

  She made it three more blocks before her body gave out.

  Magnolia staggered to a stop, doubling over with her hands braced against her knees. Her vision swam at the edges, darkness creeping in.

  When did I last eat?

  The answer came with a vicious cramp in her gut. Not since that bastard noble's son had kidnapped her.

  Her stomach growled.

  "Shut up," she muttered to herself, and forced herself upright.

  An alleyway gaped open to her right. Dark. Narrow. Reeking of garbage. Magnolia stumbled into it, pressing her back against the cold stone wall.

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  Just a moment. Just one moment to breathe, to think, to—

  Footsteps.

  She whipped around.

  A shape emerged from the mouth of the alley. A man in dark uniform, one gloved hand wrapped around a leather leash. And at the end of that leash—

  The hound was massive. Black-furred and white-eyed, its shoulders level with the handler's hip. Muscles rippled beneath its sleek coat as it padded forward, lips peeling back to reveal teeth like ivory daggers.

  It barked.

  The sound was thunder in the narrow space, bouncing off the walls, rattling Magnolia's bones.

  But her eyes weren't on the hound.

  They were on the second figure stepping out of the shadows behind the handler.

  Another man, dressed in the same uniform. Taller. Leaner. Long black hair spilled over his shoulders like a dark waterfall, framing a face that might have been handsome if not for the lazy, cruel smile curling his lips.

  She didn’t need to be told to know that these two men didn’t have any good intentions for her.

  Magnolia spun and bolted for the other end of the alley.

  Her legs screamed in protest. Her lungs burned. But she ran—ran like her life depended on it because it did, throwing herself toward the rectangle of faint light at the far end—

  She skidded to a halt.

  He was already there.

  The long-haired man leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, one ankle hooked lazily over the other. Waiting. Like he'd been there the whole time.

  "I'd suggest you stop running." His voice was smooth as silk, edged with amusement. "Girlie."

  Magnolia's heart slammed against her ribs.

  The alley stretched between them. Thirty feet of narrow stone, walls too high to climb. Behind her, the hound's growl rumbled like an approaching storm.

  No way out.

  No way out but through.

  Etch the feeling of your sorcery into your very cells.

  A familiar phrase found itself to the center of her mind.

  Her sorcery…

  Oh that’s right….

  She can use sorcery now. She shut her eyes for half a heartbeat and reached for the sensation.

  The first time, it had felt like something inside her had snapped its fingers and the rest of her body had been forced to comply. Muscles had twisted, bones had warped, skin had split to let new limbs claw their way out. Messy, violent, horrifying, and right.

  She chased that feeling now. The internal lurch. The way her spine seemed to coil. The rush of that strange current of energy flooding her nerves.

  Come on. Come on, come on—

  Her back spasmed.

  Four tentacles burst from just below her shoulder blades, tearing through cloth, slapping the concrete on either side of her with a wet crack. They hit, flexed, anchored, slick and strong despite the ache ripping up her spine.

  The hound at the alley’s mouth went from a bark to a full-body snarl, throwing itself against the end of the leash. Its handler swore under his breath, digging his heels in.

  The black haired Peacekeeper’s brows went up. He let out a low, impressed whistle.

  “Well,” he said. “Looks like she really does want to fight.”

  “Of course” Magnolia growled.

  She didn’t wait for a countdown. Two tentacles slammed into the ground, launching her forward. The other two snapped down the alley ahead of her, tips spearing straight for the man’s chest and throat, concrete cracking under the force of their passing.

  For half a second she thought she had him.

  Then there was nothing there.

  Her tentacles punched holes in the wall where he’d been leaning a blink before. Brick dust exploded in her face.

  Wind touched the side of her neck.

  Magnolia tried to twist, to pull back, to bring her extra limbs around—

  Steel kissed skin.

  The cut started under her jaw and raked down across her collarbone. For a terrifying instant it didn’t even feel real, just a strange coldness following the blade’s path.

  Then sensation caught up.

  Pain lit her up from throat to sternum. Her knees almost gave. One hand flew to her chest and came away red, fingers slick with fresh blood.

  She hadn’t even seen him move.

  Kazane stood behind her now, only a step away, sword held out to the side in a lazy one-handed grip.

  "Too slow."

  Magnolia tried to turn, but her legs buckled. She caught herself on one knee, tentacles thrashing wildly, and craned her neck to see the man standing at her back.

  He hadn't even broken a sweat.

  "How—" Magnolia choked out. "How are you so—"

  "Fast?" The long haired man finished for her. He tilted his head, that lazy smile still playing on his lips. "You're about fifty years too early to be worrying about that, girlie." He turned away, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "Varn, bring the restraints. She's done."

  He said it with absolute certainty.

  Like she was already in chains.

  Like she was already dead.

  Magnolia's vision blurred. Blood loss. Exhaustion. Hunger. All of it crashing down on her at once. But through the haze, she saw it, the storm drain set into the alley floor.

  Kazane's back was still turned when Magnolia's flesh began to shift. By the time Kazane spun back around, sword half-raised again, what was left of Magnolia’s silhouette was just a white smear disappearing into the darkness under the street, tentacles yanking themselves thin to follow, last one whipping through with a wet slap.

  "...What."

  The word came out flat. Disbelieving.

  He stared at the drain. At the darkness below. At the faint, retreating sound of something slithering through pipes.

  His eye twitched.

  "She didn't," he said. "She didn't just—"

  Behind him, Varn lowered his face into his palm with a long, heavy sigh. The hound sat on its haunches, head tilted, looking distinctly unimpressed.

  "You're always overconfident," the handler muttered through his fingers. "I keep telling you. Every single time. 'Don't monologue, Kazane.' 'Keep your eyes on the target, Kazane.' But do you listen? No. No, you don't."

  Kazane's jaw clenched.

  "Shut up, Varn."

  "She literally squeezed through a sewer grate."

  "I said shut up."

  "While you were doing your little 'fifty years too early' speech."

  "VARN!”