“Anyone else? Or just you?”
“You will ruin us,” she says bitterly. “You will ruin us all, and for what? Her?”
Shadows lengthen as Thiago’s eyes darken. I recognize the set of his shoulders and the press of his mouth. There’s no sign of the charming suitor who won my heart for all those months, no sign of the careful prince who tries to rule his country with a fair and even hand. No, this is the predator. The dark prince they all whisper about.
Even my breath catches, because I’ve never seen the warlord who earned that reputation long ago fully unleashed. It’s like a glimpse of the male beneath the mask, and I don’t know him.
Not completely.
“Is it ruin to seek salvation in the only hope you have ever seen?” he asks in a gentle voice that holds an edge of malice.
The two of them stare at each other.
“You should thank her, you know.” Thiago takes a step toward her, eyes glittering darkly. “Because you know nothing of what I am capable of. You know nothing of the depths that call at me. There is only one thing that reminds me of who I am and what I wish to remain, and she’s standing right in fucking front of you.”
Kyrian steps between them, not as a threat, but as a warning that we need to keep a cool head here. “We’re playing directly into Adaia’s hands.”
I catch Thiago’s arm.
And our eyes meet.
“I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.”
“I’m aware of that,” he growls in my head.
“Then stop acting like—”
“Like what? Like I just saw my wife being dragged out of a fucking burning building? You said you would go nowhere without me.”
My eyes narrow. “Or Eris. Who was with me.”
His thin in return.
“Later,” I tell him. “You can chide me later. Right now, you’re threatening our allies.”
“What I have in mind has nothing to do with ‘chiding,’” he promises. But he turns to the prince and princess. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn. It’s not every day you see your wife nearly die.”
“She wasn’t the only one,” says Imerys, suddenly coughing. “And that’s enough, Luce. We’re only talking ourselves in circles.”
“Immy?” Corvin kneels next to his youngest sister as she continues coughing. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone just burned half my fucking library.” There are tears in the corners of her eyes.
I keep seeing the library in my mind, going up in flames. Lucere and Thiago doused the worst of the fire, but so many of the books were burned.
Especially those on the level where Imerys and I were searching the other day.
Where something was watching us.
“Go home,” Lucere says through clenched teeth. “I think you’ve done enough here. I don’t know what the truth is. I don’t know who attacked us. Or why. But as I told Adaia the other day, Ravenal intends to stand by itself. It will uphold the terms of the original Alliance. We do not side with either of you. We stand by ourselves, and will remain neutral in this coming conflict.”
Thiago doesn’t move. “Remember this moment when Ravenal’s borders are being overrun with red and gold banners. This was the moment where you could have saved your people and your country.”
And then he turns to shoot us a dark look.
“Let’s go home.”
Kyrian catches his arm before he turns to go. “Keep me apprised. If you need help, I will do what I can.”
Failure tastes as bitter as I thought it would.
“You did your best,” I murmur as we’re about to mount and head for the Hallow. “Her eyes and ears were already closed before we even arrived.”
Thiago stares moodily ahead. “Your mother won this skirmish. I could see it on Lucere’s face—she’s afraid of what Queen Maren can do to her. If she bows her head before your mother, then maybe, just maybe, she won’t be crushed. She can ride their coattails to victory, clap enthusiastically when they deliver my head on a plate, and smile hollowly as her cities are slowly overrun. She’ll be the first knee to bend before your mother.”
“She’ll also be the last,” I remind him. “Kyrian despises my mother, and Queen Maren doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘yield.’ Maren’s the one unpredictable factor my mother can’t control. It wouldn’t entirely surprise me if Maren thinks to use my mother to draw fire from their enemies before she knifes Adaia in the back and sets her crown on her own head.”
“Do you think this was truly her doing?” He meets my gaze.
I swallow. “I’m starting to think it wasn’t the fetch in the library the other day. If Maren has the Mirror, then she might be able to watch us through the World of Dreams.”
But why burn the library?
“Either she thinks I found something in there,” I whisper. “Or this was a threat to stop Lucere from allying herself with us.”
But which one?
Hope dies in his eyes. “I nearly had her. I thought I nearly had her—”
“This game isn’t over yet. Lucere has yielded. For now. That doesn’t mean she won’t come to her senses. Or maybe we can return to my original idea.”
“I don’t think Lucere’s going to be standing near any open windows in the near future. And I thought you frowned upon that kind of behavior.”
“I do.” I would never plot another queen’s death. “She hasn’t made her pledge to the lands yet. She hasn’t bound herself, and until she does, she is only heir apparent. Not queen. Perhaps someone else will grow a sudden ambition.”
“Hmm.” He turns back to his horse, but I know he’s thinking. “Remind me not to play fari with you.”
I can’t help seeing the moves on the board the way my mother taught me. It doesn’t mean I have to make those moves, but if there is one thing my mother
