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I scoffed. “A choice?” What choice did I have bound and unarmed?

“Yes,” Killian said, taking one last step toward me. He was close enough that I smelled the scent of parchment wafting from his clothes. I could see the faint spots of ink on his hands.

“Our secret alliance no longer serves either of us,” Killian said. “The king will move quickly. If we have any hope in defeating him, you need to know who you’ve really been dealing with.”

“You want me to join your ranks?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Why would I trust you?” I lifted my bound wrists. They were only one example of how Killian—how Riven—had betrayed me.

Killian smirked. “You already have. You just didn’t know it. I need you to recommit yourself to the mission, Keera. Knowing your Riven answers to me. If you can’t, then I’m afraid—”

“You’ll have to kill me?” I guessed.

“Truly, I’d rather not.” Killian lifted his hand to his chest. “I think you and I will become great friends.”

“Do you make a habit of lying to your friends?” I asked. “Binding their hands?”

“Not unless I have to.” He shrugged. “Keera, you know better than most that secrets are dangerous things to share. Your wounded pride was not worth risking all my men by revealing myself.” His voice was hard and unmoving. I hated the part of me that understood what he meant.

“Why reveal yourself now?” I asked.

“For starters,” Killian said with a grin, “I reckon someone willing to get blown up wants to defeat my father just as much as I do. Maybe even more.” He tilted his head, studying me.

My skin prickled under his gaze. Why did the prince want to defeat his father? How long had he been working against the Crown? I scowled at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking my questions in front of all his accomplices.

“More importantly,” Killian added, “I think you would be of better use beside me in the fight to come.”

I scowled. “You mean you don2019;t trust me.” The bindings on my wrists felt tighter, like they would never be undone. All those people I had killed trying to escape the weight of the Crown, trying to end the reign of the king, had been for nothing. I had freed myself of one set of shackles only to find my hands tied to another instead. My stomach lurched. If I was going to vomit, I’d make sure it landed on the prince.

“Idotrust you, actually,” Killian said, his expression softening. “And I will have to keep doing so for us to succeed. I think you’re an even better strategist than you are a weapon. I have others that will kill for me; not as many that can see which pieces need to be moved to topple a monarchy.”

He had said something similar that day in the throne room. My cheeks heated as I remembered how grateful I had been for his support in front of the king. Now his words left a bitter taste in my mouth. He’d been playing me all along, and I’d been too dimwitted to catch it.

“I wanted to end theCrown,” I said, my voice hoarse against my throat. “Not work to place yet another king upon the throne.”

“We want the same,” Killian answered evenly. I raised my brows at the gold circlet on his head.

Killian took it off, his eyes not leaving mine as he did so. “This crown is nothing more than a tool, Keera. Like your blade. Or better yet, your hood. It helps us move without being seen. It protects those who trust me.” He looked around the room at the Halflings and Elves who stood watching us.

He took a step toward me. “But once we succeed, I will take it off. I have no interest in being king. In ruling a land that was never meant to be ruled to begin with.” He dropped the crown and it bounced against the floor. I didn’t trust his words, but when I looked over his shoulder, I saw Syrra. Her lips were set into their usual straight line, but her eyes were locked on me.

She nodded once. A sign that I could trust the prince. Or at least thatshetrusted the pretty things he said.

Killian took my hands in his. They were gentle and unmarked. He had no callouses from fighting or training, but his skin was rough. Dry like the scrolls and parchment he spent most of his days with.

He pulled a blade from his belt. The thin steel glinted. It was short but long enough to pierce a heart.

“I meant what I said, Keera,” he whispered, so close his breath warmed my cheek. “I want you to be my ally. But I also want you to be my friend.” His eyes bore into mine, daring me to take one last chance. I sucked in a breath, unsure if I could trust them. They were so much like the cruel ones of his brother.

I nodded.

Killian thrust the blade through my bindings.

“Now,” he said as the thick rope fell to the floor. “Let’s kill my father.”

It wasn’t a joke. It was a promise.

SO MANY HANDS HELDthe various versions of this book and many more held me up while writing it. I would like to say thank you to my family and friends who listened to all my excited tangents, stressful tears, and anxiety-ridden thought spirals while I published this book.

To my sister, Emma, for reading multiple drafts and spending several car rides talking it out. To my friend, Marissa, for reading various drafts and believing that BookTok would love this book as much as I do. To my mom, Cheryl, for giving me pep talks when I needed them and tough talks when I spiraled. To my brother, Eric, for helping me pick a cover even though I ignored your advice completely. To my dad, Greg, for accepting that this book would have to cut into ourDexterrewatch. To my brother, Sag, for taking me out to dinner and distracting me from all my edits. You didn’t know it then, but I needed that. To my friends, Abby and Emily, for always being a phone call away and never doubting that I could actually publish this thing. I hope I did you all proud.