EMBER’S POV
The mountain swallows the car whole.
There’s no door or glittering red sign that announces this as the entrance to the most dangerous casino on the continent.
A road runs straight into a wall of black rock. Just as we’re about to hit, the stone opens, and the car glides down a throat of polished stone, deep into the belly of the mountain, and behind us, the rock seals shut like a mouth finishing a meal.
“Cute,” I say, because Merrilyn Aster is not impressed by geology. “Very theatrical. Someone’s compensating.”
Beside me, Knox says nothing.
Knox can’t say anything because Knox is currently a bodyguard in black, with a surgical mask over the lower half of his face, to cover a weeping rash so contagious and so grotesque that no sane creature will ask him to lift it.
Only h
