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“There must be a way. We can’t just accept that this is our future. That we’re going to end up with nothing.Otherwise, what’s the point in it all? What are we fighting for?”

Tears tremble in her blue eyes, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to step into her personal space and pull her into my arms. I want to hold her against me and stroke her hair, like I did last night, and comfort her.

I shake the thought from my head. My plan is to ruin her, not to give her comfort. I shouldn’t care about how she’s feeling.

“I’ve asked the greatest scholars of our kingdom to research what we know about the rot,” she continues. “There has to be something we can do.”

I huff air from my nose. “What do scholars know? All they do is read about what other people have already learned. They’re not going to tell us anything new.”

Her mouth pinches, her nostrils flaring. “What do you suggest?”

“The rot is dark magic, so the only answer will also be magic.”

“You think we need a sorcerer?”

I nod. “A powerful one, at that.”

She places her index finger against her lips as she thinks. “The only sorcerer I know of is the Mage who lives beyond the borders of Askos, in the wildlands.”

“Those lands are dangerous, Princess.”

She shoots me a look. “I’m fully aware of that. But you’re right. We need someone with great magic, not just a bunch of men with books. They say the Mage knows everything, and if that’s true, then they must know a way to stop the rot, if there is one.”

I wonder what can of worms I’ve opened.

“You’re not thinking of going yourself?” I check. “The kingdom needs you. If you die, what then?”

It occurs to me that this is a great plan. I may have stumbled into it accidentally, but it could work out perfectly.

She glances at someplace over my shoulder, her gaze misting. “If I don’t do this, there won’t be a kingdom left to rule.”

So she is planning to go herself. My stomach knots. I wish I could take back my suggestion of finding a sorcerer.

“Let me go in your place,” I blurt.

I don’t know where the offer comes from. Why am I putting my life on the line, when I’m trying to get my kingdom back? I should let her go beyond the borders of Askos, into the wildlands. If she’s killed—which she most likely will be—I’ll automatically become king. There is no one else to challenge my right to the throne.

She gives a small laugh. “I appreciate the offer, Prince Ruarok, but your reputation precedes you. Why would the Mage listen to you, or want to help you?”

“But you think they’ll listen to you?”

She lifts her chin and puts back her shoulders. “As the ruler of Askos, of course they’ll listen to me.”

The Mage is neither male nor female. They’ve lived in the wildlands for a thousand years, outliving even the Fae.

I grind my teeth. “If you go, I will go with you.”

“I’ll take my guards. I will be fine.”

Sudden jealousy flashes through me. “And that man, Balthorne, will he go with you, too?”

“Of course. He’s head of my guard.”

“No, Cirrus Planetree is head of your guard.”

She shakes her head, her waist length white-blonde hair shimmering. “He was the head of the king’s guard, and the king is no more. Balthorne has always been the man who protects me. He’s been there for me ever since I was young.”

I hate to think of another man being so important in her life. That this Balthorne looks the way he does also does nothing to help my jealousy. If I were pale blond, with wings, would she have still pushed me away last night? Or would she be proud to have me on her arm, to stand beside her in court, to be her equal?