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“Very well.”

Cirrus leads me there, though I know my way. Balthorne brings up the rear. Cirrus is the head of the King’s Guard, but does that mean he’ll become the head ofmyguard now? I’m unsure of where that would leave Balthorne. I’ve never been a huge fan of Cirrus, but I trust Balthorne with my life.

The cold air touches my cheeks and nose long before I come face to face with the hole in the side of the castle. My heart crawls up my throat and lodges there, making it hard for me to breathe. Instead of the skybridge, which once crossed to the king’s quarters, there is now only the night sky. Wind howls around the part of the castle that remains. It catches my long, white hair, whipping it around my face. Mortar crumbles from the fractured stone, reminding me how fragile this part of the castle hasbecome. It’s stood for a thousand years, but in the space of one night, a vital part has been destroyed.

The atmosphere of shock and grief that surrounds us also unites us. It’s a deep sense of mourning, not only for the loss of our king and queen, but also for who we were as people. The relative comfort and security of our lives is no more. It can all be ripped away from us at any moment.

The future is also uncertain. I can’t even think too far ahead right now.

I turn to Cirrus.

“We must make an official announcement from the castle that the king and queen are dead, and the kingdom will enter an official seven days of mourning. I need the word spread that the kingdom has a new ruler in the form of Princess Taelyn Loftborn. The people need to know they have someone at the helm. Someone guiding them.”

Cirrus ducks his head. “Yes, Princess.”

“I will go to the king’s offices now and work from there. Please instruct the head of the treasury to inform me as to the state of the castle’s coffers. The city is going to need money if it’s going to rebuild.”

“Of course, Princess.”

I look to my lady’s maid. “Skylar, could you return to my chambers and bring me something more fitting to wear?”

She gives me a brief smile, turns, and hurries away.

“Balthorne,” I say to the head of my guard, “you may escort me.”

We walk in solemn silence through the castle, down to my late-stepfather’s private offices. The heavy wooden door is shut, and, with a shaking hand, I reach out to open it.

It’s strange stepping into this room. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been here in the ten years I’ve been living in the castle. It was the king’s private offices, but the king is no longer with us. I am the only remaining member of royalty now, and therefore, this is nowmyprivate office.

I’m the Queen of Askos now, though it’s unofficial. We have far more important things to worry about than a coronation. Besides, it’s only right that the kingdom observes the seven days of mourning before crowning a new monarch.

Will ruling as a woman make Askos more vulnerable than it already is? If I had a husband by my side, my ability would not be questioned, but alone? That’s a different matter.

We have been weakened by the king’s and my mother’s deaths, but also by the rot that’s now worked its way into the very ground we stand upon. Why would any other kingdoms want to conquer us now? What would they want with lands that are ready to fall away beneath our feet at any moment? If we can’t trust the very ground we stand upon, what can we trust?

I’ve been here before.

I lost my homeland, Torremora, to the rot. I grew up while watching pieces of the city fall into the nothingness. It hadn’t happened all at once, but slowly, bit by bit, over years and then decades.

It hurts my heart that these people are going to have to go through what my homeland suffered. Where will we all go? How many places will be left? Before long, resources will become slim, and then the fighting will start. I know how it goes. We’re still at the beginning here, and peoplewill feel terrible for their neighbors who’ve lost everything, but in the years to come, those same neighbors will become enemies. Anyone who has something will see those with nothing as their enemies. They’ll guard what they have and kill anyone who tries to take it, no matter how desperate they are. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Normally good people forced to kill families with babies because they’re trying to protect what is theirs.

Soon there will be nowhere left to run.

The walls of the office are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. A ladder on a runner is available to reach those shelves near the top. At the far end of the room, an open fire still smolders in the grate. In the middle, positioned on an expensive rug, sits the king’s heavy wooden desk.

Balthorne is waiting for me outside, preventing anyone else from entering. This space is mine now.

I go to the bookshelves and run my fingers across the spines of the books. So many books on every subject possible—on magic, and history, and arts. As I take slow, deliberate steps, I touch the leather bindings and inhale their scent.

One book in particular draws my attention. Its spine is as thick as my forearm, and it appears to have real gold embossed into the leather.

I experience a strange pull. It causes my heart to skip, and my breath to tighten in my chest. It’s almost as though my fingers have been magnetized and something is drawing me toward it.

I select the book from the shelf. The cover opens, and the pages flip as though on their own. What is this? Magic?

Being a full-blooded Fae, magic is something thatshould come naturally to me, but I’ve always had a difficult relationship with it. While other pure Fae might have powerful magic, mine has always been somewhat lacking. I’ve told myself that my magic is simply dormant, and will come to me when I am older, but currently, it is weak.

The pages finally come to rest, open at the precise page where a gap has been cut into the pages beneath. Nestled in the hole is a large iron key.