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“Yes,” she said, “there is a problem.” She stepped closer to Jorvik, and I barely refrained from dragging her back toward me. “Who are you?”

Blynth frowned, turning his attention to Jorvik.

Slowly, Jorvik raised his arms. “That was fast, Your Majesty. Your cousin made it seem like you were somewhat…challenged when it came to intelligence.”

Prisca smiled at him. His face lost some of its color, and he suddenly seemed much younger than his years.

I lunged, wrapping my hand around Jorvik’s throat… just as the tip of Blynth’s dagger found Jorvik’s pulse point. “Tell me this treachery isn’t the reason Thorge is dead,” he demanded.

“I can’t do that.”

Prisca stepped up close to me. A fine trembling began to take over her body. It wasn’t terror.

Zathrian had twenty thousand hybrids ready to march on us. And now this?

“What does he want?”

“For me to give you a message.” Jorvik swallowed, and a bead of blood appeared at the end of Blynth’s dagger.

“Speak,” I said, and he began to shake. As if it had only just occurred to him exactly how much danger he was in. He had assumed that Prisca was weak, half dead, and presented no true threat.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked Prisca in the eye.

“Tell the elders you cede the crown to Zathrian—or die.”

6

Prisca

“How did this happen?” I asked Blynth, my throat tight.

Marth had dragged Jorvik away, stashing him out of my sight while we discussed our next move. Zathrian had once again proven that he could easily get close to me whenever he wanted.

Lightning flickered in Lorian’s eyes, and even Blynth looked disconcerted by the sparks rising from his skin.

“It’s a power play, meant to frighten you,” Blynth said. “But it tells us one thing. Your cousin doesn’t truly believe he can take the crown by force. And clearly, the hybrid elders are no longer enchanted by the idea of his ruling.”

They may not be enchanted with my cousin, but if they ever learned I’d turned back time, any support they might have given us would be gone. I glanced at Lorian, and he met my eyes steadily. No, we wouldn’t tell them. And neither would any of our people.

But which of the elders had switched sides? The last I’d heard, I’d only had Ysara and Tymriel.

We were all sitting around the smalltable, cups of wine in our hands. Jorvik’s betrayal had accomplished one thing—all formality had disappeared between us.

Lorian’s expression was hard. “If he’d gotten her alone, he could have assassinated her.”

“You have my sincere apologies. This never should have happened. If I may…Nelayra.” Blynth folded his hands on the table. I’d convinced him to drop the formal address while we were in private, but I was no longer fighting my birth name. Nelayra was the hybrid heir. It was Nelayra whom the hybrids would go to war for. “This is a taunt,” he said. “Your cousin doesn’t think you’ll hand over the crown, no matter what he does. But he did it to show you he can get close. To throw you off your stride. To make you feel unsafe.”

Zathrian had achieved all of those things.

Blynth studied my face, and I wondered what he could see.

Beneath the table, Lorian reached for my hand and squeezed. “How much does Jorvik know of our plans?”

Blynth carefully considered this, as he seemed to carefully consider everything. “He was only given the position as my aide because we were already on the move and Thorge was dead. He has the appropriate rank, but before this, he didn’t have access to any war plans or knowledge of our troops.”

“I’ll give him to Marth,” Lorian said. “He will be able to learn exactly what Jorvik has shared. In the meantime, let’s discuss what will happen next.”

It was my turn to squeeze his hand in a silent thank-you. I hadn’t realized how shaken I was until this verymoment. But Lorian knew. And he was giving me a moment to recover.