SELENE’S STABThe hallway was a tunnel of smoke and screams. Elara and the other servants were dragging Selene toward the west wing, but the floor was slick with oil and blood. Every time a beam cracked overhead, they jumped, their grip on the Queen loosening for a split second.

"Hurry up!" Elara yelled over the roar of the fire. "If the roof comes down, we’re all dead, gold or no gold!"

Selene stumbled, her hair matted to her forehead. "You can’t do this," she wheezed. "You’re making a ...