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The town unfolded like a tapestry of quaint charm as we walked through it, several guards trailing after us. The streets wound in lazy, meandering patterns, giving me an opportunity to study the buildings—their facades displaying an array of pastel colors, from warm peach tones to soft lavenders.

Residents wandered past, some of them stopping to stare, to whisper. But for the most part, they were wrapped up in their own lives, hauling baskets to and from the market, cajoling stubborn children, finishing theday’s errands.

Like most cities, Sorlithia’s heart was its market square, and the bustling hub somehow retained a relaxed atmosphere. Taverns and inns surrounded the market, while children splashed in a huge fountain.

This was a city of trees. Lush gardens sprawled every few blocks, attracting birds and butterflies. I could see why Rekja preferred Sorlithia to his capital.

And we were about to destroy whatever peace and solace he’d found here.

Next to me, Thora twisted her hands. I couldn’t tell if she was nervous or trying to restrain herself from elbowing past us and running toward the castle as it came into view.

It was perched atop a gently rising hill—an unassuming yet undeniable presence. Unlike the castles in the Eprothan and Gromalian capitals, the castle of Sorlithia was all quiet elegance and understated strength.

Its walls were a light gray, with huge windows large enough for a man to stand in. The guards at our backs spoke to those at the castle gates, who gave us long, suspicious stares but allowed us to pass.

Gravel crunched underfoot as we strode toward the large wooden doors. Intricately carved with creatures I had once thought were nothing but myth, the doors were ajar, guards stationed on either side.

One of those guards spoke briefly to the guards escorting us, murmuring something that made Lorian’s lips quirk. But the guard turned, gesturing for us to follow through the grand hall, which boasted a ceiling that arched high above our heads, painted in deep blues sparklingwith silver—the night sky. Lorian took my arm as I almost tripped, my gaze stuck to that magnificent ceiling.

The guard turned left, and we followed him into a formal sitting room. I swept my gaze over the room, noting the plush silk chairs, the polished wood of the side tables. But my attention was caught by Rekja.

He stood by the window, his long red hair tied back as he gazed down at something out of sight. He wore casual clothes. But no one who looked at him would doubt he was born to wear a crown.

The Gromalian prince slowly turned, his eyes meeting mine, his expression unfriendly. “You. And just how did you get— Ah.” Striding forward, he plucked the coin from Daharak’s fingers. “Due to my respect for ancient traditions, I will give you five—” His hands fisted as Lorian and Rythos stepped aside, revealing Thora.

Her mouth trembled, her eyes flooded with tears, and she reached for him.

Rekja caught her hand, pulling her close. “How—” He cupped the back of her head in his hand as she buried her face in his chest, and a series of emotions flashed across his face. Incredulity, shock, and finally, a burning, endless wrath.

“You took her from me.”

“Wesavedher,” Lorian corrected.

Thora lifted her head long enough to pin me with a look. She knew we would have arranged for her kidnapping, regardless of the fact that she was already being hunted.

My heart sank. But she took a deep breath, clutching Rekja close. “They kept me safe,” she said. “If not fortheir spy’s quick thinking, Jinoran would have killed me.”

Rekja’s expression darkened. “He disappeared three nights ago. Gods, I thought you were dead.” His gaze met mine, and his eyes were no longer unfriendly. No, now they shone with appreciation. “It seems I owe you my gratitude.”

Thora sent me a warning look. It wasn’t difficult to follow her thought patterns. If Rekja learned we were responsible for spreading rumors of their relationship, he’d be unlikely to work with us. Thora was keeping that from him in an effort to save both of our kingdoms.

One day, when all of this was over, I hoped Rekja made Thora his queen.

“You’re aware that Regner is moving his army south through Eprotha,” Lorian said.

Rekja nodded. “My scouts have reported signs of his regiments outside of Lesdryn. But…he sent this yesterday.”

Releasing Thora, he swiped a scroll from a nearby table and handed it to me.

To His Majesty King Rekja of Gromalia,

Please accept my sincere condolences on the passing of your father. Occasionally, difficult choices must be made for the greater good—a reality I also understand all too well.

At this time, I find it necessary to remind you of the alliance forged between our kingdoms under your father’s reign—an agreement witnessed and honored by advisers from both our kingdoms. This alliance promises to ensurethe prosperity of humans across our continent. Any deviation from this agreement would be deeply regrettable and could be construed as a declaration of war.

It is my sincere hope that we continue to maintain the friendship and cooperation established between Gromalia and Eprotha.

His Majesty King Sabium of Eprotha