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But I wished I could have thanked him. Wished I could have said goodbye.

Tor disappeared to take a nap, and the rest of us ate together, sharing stories and laughter. By some unspoken agreement, none of us talked of the horrors we had seen or the death we had dealt—that afternoon, we would meet to talk about war and plan our strategy. While we ate,Lorian told the others about the time he’d found Marth sleepwalking on Daharak’s ship, headed straight for the railing. Galon told them of the time we’d been training on the deck, and I’d fallen against an overturned barrel— disturbing a rat. The rat streaked toward me, and with nowhere else to go, I wentup—scampering up the closest rope, which had swung wildly. Losing my grip, I’d used my hands to slow my fall, giving me a wicked case of rope burn.

Asinia told us how Demos had decided he was tired of lying around after he’d almost died. My stubborn brother had made it two steps out of the tent before falling unconscious. He’d dropped like a log, ensuring Tibris had to heal his hard head once more.

Tibris grinned, bringing up the time one of the rebels—a soldier who’d defected from Regner’s army— had loudly declared that women shouldn’t be seen on a battlefield. Asinia had calmly picked up her crossbow and shot the cup of ale straight out of his hand.

Hours later, when the others had returned to their rooms to rest before the meeting, Tibris found me. “When was the last time you took a walk?”

I frowned.

“You’re coming with me.”

I laughed as he grabbed my hand, pulling me through the castle. Several people approached, and he cut them off each time. “Ask Lorian,” he instructed.

No one looked pleased at his words. I couldn’t blame them. Lorian was doing everything he could to lighten the load for me, but he had a tendency to snarl when asked stupid questions.

And he considered a lot of questions to be stupid.

I shook my head at Tibris, but my brother had no hesitancy with taking charge when it came to the overall health of those he cared about. His healing instincts were often impossible to ignore.

Rekja’s gardens were a serene haven that felt worlds away from the strife and politics of the castle. As Tibris led me through the winding pathways, the lush tapestry of colors and scents enveloped me, pulling some of the tension from my muscles.

Tall, elegant trees formed a leaf canopy above our heads, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Beneath them, flower beds burst with a riot of purples, reds, and yellows. I sucked the earthy scent of damp soil into my lungs as we meandered along the cobblestone path.

I’d needed this.

By the time we made it to a private corner of the garden, Tibris was frowning down at a rosebush as if it had personally offended him. He glanced up, meeting my eyes.

Gods, it was good to be able to look at him again. To hear him. To see he was alive and unharmed.

“You scared me,” I said. “When I learned they were holding you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Tibris’s voice was oddly flat, and I peered up at him. “What is it?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart thundered. His expression was guarded. Eyes grave.

“You can tell me anything,” I said. “You know that.”

Swallowing, he nodded. But he glanced at his feet.

My palms went damp. Was he sick? Had something bad happened to him at that camp?

Tibris met my eyes. And it was as if he was steeling himself to deliver news he thought I wouldn’t like. “While I was at the rebel camp, I met someone.”

The fist squeezing my heart unclenched. “Is that all? Gods, Tibris, you scared me.”

His gaze stayed steady on mine. “It’s not that simple, Pris. It’s Herne.”

“Herne…the camp leader?”

He nodded stiffly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

My chest tightened once more, joined by a sickly sensation in my stomach. I could see it now––from the look in his eyes, the longing on his face. My brother was in love. And instead of the supportive response he deserved, he expected me to be displeased by the political implications.