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A low, male grunt sounded. Rythos had wound his legs through the bars of our cage and was hanging upside down doing sit-ups. When the main cell door opened, he almost fell.

I smirked. Rythos untangled himself from the bars and leaned against them. His insistence on touching the bars made with fae iron was likely all part of some game he was playing with his brother. If it hurt him, it was impossible to tell from the predatory look in his eyes.

The woman who stepped into the corridor was taller than me by at least a footspan and looked like she spent her days on the battlefield, swinging her sword. She wore a dark-gray dress, and when she smiledat me, I saw Rythos in her smile.

“Cousin,” she said, stepping up to the bars.

“Miric. This is Madinia.”

She gave me a nod. But her smile disappeared, and she tutted at Rythos. “You really fucked up this time.”

“I’m aware.”

“Verdion and Brevan sent me in here to convince you to cooperate with them. Pretend I’m doing that, and tell me exactly what happenedandwhat you were thinking.”

Despite the situation, a tendril of amusement curled through me. Any woman who could order around one of the domineering fae was a force to be reckoned with.

Rythos told her everything. When he got to the part about Verdion agreeing to cooperate with Regner long before we knew war was even a possibility, Miric’s eyes turned haunted.

“And your brother sees no problem with this?”

“My brother isn’t king. Yet.”

She waved her hand. “That doesn’t mean he’s without influence. Lorian and the others…they will be waiting for you.”

“They will be waiting forus. For the fleet of Arslan ships that could determine whether any of us lives through this war.”

She let out a shaky breath. Rythos leaned against the bars.

“Exactly how am I supposed to cooperate?”

“They want you to remove your magic from the council.”

I jolted. “His magic is still working?”

“Yes. My cousin has become more powerful since hehas been gone.” She cast him a fond look. “The council has continued to disregard Verdion and Brevan’s orders, and they are readying the fleet for war.”

My heart raced, and I turned to Rythos. “How much longer will that power last?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping it would be long enough for my brother to have at least listened to what we have to say.”

And then the true conversation began happening. Rythos and Miric began speaking using their hands. I’d seen this language before—one of the servant’s children in Regner’s palace had lost her hearing at a young age in an accident. But I’d never learned how to communicate with her.

Rythos glanced at me. “Madinia usually has a lot to say about such situations.” He flicked his gaze to his hands and then to the door.

We were being listened to. And everything we said would be reported back to his brother and father.

I took the hint. And I paced the cell, letting loose with a tirade I’d been holding back for days. The conditions were unimaginable. I hadn’t hadanyfresh air. My first introduction to the Arslan had proven they were an intolerant, dull, arrogant people who didn’t deserve the beautiful island they lived on.

Miric laughed at that, losing her concentration. Rythos shot me a look.

So, I switched to more important topics. I told her— and whoever was listening—of everything I’d seen, living in Regner’s castle. I told her what it had truly been like, growing up in his court as a hybrid. And I told her justhow much he hated the fae—allof the fae.

Someone hit the door with a closed fist. I spoke faster. I would not be silenced. Rythos’s and Miric’s hands moved so quickly, they were almost a blur. I could see them cutting each other off, nodding, planning something.

And then the guard opened the door. Their hands froze, and Miric turned toward the guard.

“I suggest you think about what I said, Rythos,” Miric said, following the Arslan guard toward the door.