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I held up my hand. My fingers brushed his wrist, sending an electric current up my arm. I pulled away, staring at the tips of my fingers. Riven shifted his shoulders, pulling me back to my thought. “Killing the king but leaving the Crown would be worse than letting Aemon live out his reign.”

Riven raised a thick brow. His lips were set in a straight line, but he didn’t speak.

“What have you heard about the crown prince?” I asked.

Riven’s eyes squinted as he shrugged. “He’s a vain man more interested in power than the intricacies of ruling a kingdom.”

“That’s true,” I said, nodding my head. “But he’s also reckless and cruel. King Aemon doesn’t care about the deaths of Halflings or peasants, but there’s always a reason for it. The prince kills Halflings for sport. There’s no telling what he would do if he ever claimed the throne.”

Riven’s neck tensed as he swallowed. “Surely some of that is an exaggeration.”

I slammed my hand against the mantel. “He keeps Halflings locked in his chambers, torturing them, making them feel worthless. Sometimes he cuts them. Sometimes he leaves marks on their skin that take weeks to heal. Sometimes he doesn’t touch them at all but leaves them tied to a wall for days.” My chest heaved with each word. I was speaking of Damien’s tendencies, but in my mind all I saw was Gwyn.

Riven’s hands fell to his sides. The hollow of his cheek widened as he chewed the inside. “I had no idea it was that bad,” he said, his eyes dropping to the hearth. The scars on my back scratched against the tunic. I knew I could show him just how cruel the prince truly was. They were ugly enough to convince anyone of my vitriol for the king and his son. But I couldn’t. I’d carried them too long on my own. Exposing them to the world felt wrong. I wouldn’t do it, even to buy Riven’s trust.

I would earn it some other way.

Riven stared at me for what felt like years. His eyes trailed over the lines of my face, so slowly I barely saw them move. I shifted my feet, uncomfortable under his intense gaze, but unable to turn away.

“We will kill the prince, too,” Riven said with a stiff nod. “Both of them if we have to.” I didn’t doubt the earnestness in his eyes.

The door opened and I broke away from Riven’s stare.

“What, Collin?” Riven called over his shoulder. The Halfling I followed here stood in the doorway. His blond curls were still damp with rain and clung to the freckles along his cheeks. Riven’s shoulders tensed as he walked across the room. Collin whispered in his ear, too quickly for me to parse the Elvish. Riven’s head pulled back. “Where is she?” he demanded, his dark voice filling the room.

“The east side of the city,” Collin answered. “Looking forher.” His eyes cut to me.

This was not good.

“Who?” I asked, reaching for my cloak.

“The Dagger,” Riven spat. “She’s here.”

No. Not good at all.

Despite the warmth on my back, an icy chill ran down my spine. “Why is she here?” I asked Collin. I pulled the cloak off the hook and wrapped the heavy black fabric around my neck. It pulled against my throat, but I didn’t care. If Gerarda was here, that could only mean bad news.

“I expected you would know better than us,” Collin replied coolly. He raised a brow and shared a look with Riven.

“I don’t know why she’s here,” I said, heat rushing to my cheeks. “She was stationed in Koratha when I left.”

“If this is some trick—” Collin started.

“It’s not.” I pulled the damp fabric around my shoulders. “I have no idea why the Dagger is here. Let me go find her and send her back to the kingdom before she learns too much.”

“No.” It was not a statement; it was a command. I turned toward Riven, ready to strike.

“No?” I repeated.

“You will not speak to her,” Riven continued, stalking toward me. “You won’t even see her. I might believe you have your reasons to want the king gone, but I won’t give you an opportunity to expose us. Or lead us into a trap.”

“She won’t leave until she finds me or has reason to believe I’ve left.” I knew Gerarda. She wouldn’t abandon her mission until she knew her target had fled. I needed to talk to her. “I promise you don’t want the Dagger poking around your city for very long; she won’t be nearly as gracious as me.”

Twelve hours. That’s how long we had until the Dagger started showing Aralinth how she earned her title. Maybe less if someone gave her reason to attack.

“You are not meeting her in our city,” Riven repeated.

I gritted my teeth. “Then we have to lure her out.”