Gill's grey eyes glinted with approval as Seraphina straightened, blood still seeping from her wounded wrists but determination burning in her gaze.
"Good. Because I'm not much of a fighter." He gestured toward the door.
Seraphina nodded, already moving toward the door. "Then stay behind me. I'll handle the guards."
They slipped through into the servant quarters—a warren of narrow corridors and small rooms that smelled of old food and unwashed bodies. Gill moved with surprising stealth for someone who claimed to be weak, his footsteps barely whispering against the stone.
They encountered the first guard at a junction. A single soldier, bored and half-asleep, leaning against the wall with his spear propped beside him.
Seraphina didn't hesitate.
