Area had waited three hundred years to walk back into the coven that threw him out. Now he crouched in a stone tomb wrapped in fog, and he could not take a single step. He did not know who sat on the throne. The old king was dead. That much a dying courier had gasped to him. But a dead king means nothing if his hunter still guards the gate. Move blind, and Area would walk straight into an enemy's hands. He pressed his palm against the cracked slab of the door. Cold seeped through the carved letters. Outside, the fog hid everything past ten feet. Somewhere beyond it lay the coven's hall. He needed a name. Without a name, he was a fool with a grudge and no plan. A scratch came at the door. Area froze. He drew back into the dark and bared his fangs. The slab shifted. A woman slipped inside, black hair damp with mist, red eyes finding him at once. She wore a gown the color of old blood. He had not seen her since the night of his exile. Seraphina Blackwood. She had stood in the crowd that spat on him. She had not spat. "Still hiding in a grave," she said. "It suits you." Area did not lower his fangs. "You could have led them here." "I came alone." She held up empty hands. "I've been sending you word for a year. The couriers kept dying before they reached you." Her voice dropped. "So I came myself." "Then tell me," Area said. "Who holds the throne?" Seraphina glanced at the door, then back. "No one. The council is split. Two claimants, and neither can hold the hall." She stepped closer. "But the one who hunted you still commands the guard. He waits for a rival to show his face. He wants you most of all." Area felt something loosen in his chest. Not safety. Direction. A divided throne was a throne a man could take. "Why help me?" he asked. "Because I've knelt to weak kings long enough." She met his eyes. "You were the only one who ever refused to kneel. That's worth a wager." Area studied her. She had risked her life crossing the fog. That was fact, not flattery. He made his choice. "Get me inside before dawn," he said. "Past the guard. Unseen." Seraphina smiled, and her fangs showed. "I know a door your hunter forgot." She turned toward the fog. "But once you're in, there's no crawling back to this tomb. If we're caught, he'll burn us both in the courtyard." Area pushed the slab wide. Cold mist poured over his feet. The empty throne was real now, and reachable, and guarded by the one man who wanted him dead. "Then we won't be caught," he said, and stepped out into the fog.