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Remy’s words are pinched. “She is unharmed, as is the law.”

I glance from Archie—whose rage is building dangerously and without Nico here to rein him in—to Sir Jimmy, and then to Remy. “What happened?”

His shining antlers catch the light from the torches hanging throughout the room. “Sheconfrontedour queen in her private chambers and is now being held in the dungeon with Bastien.”

Harsh murmurs sound all around us, several of the monsters moving quickly toward the kitchen, while others confer with each other and head for the door. I don’t dare ask about their intentions in front of the First Knight who could imprison them for whatever they intend to do.

As Archie’s hue darkens, Remy takes a step back. “She is unharmed, Lord Archibald Clumberton. Any attack on the Queen’s Guard and I won’t be able to protect you. Lady Bianca can’t be harmed.Youcan. Pennie, say something to him before…”

I don’t move. I don’t speak. I’m frozen in place and I don’t understand why. But something ancient is sparking within me, something discarded in my evolutionary past, something barbaric. My jaws clench and I feel my teeth hardening like the jewels I love so dearly.

An urge hits me so powerfully, I’m moving before I fully comprehend what I’m doing. The target is clear. Remy’s throat—I want to tear it out. His armor won’t stop me. Does he know that? My kind have suppressed our basest instincts for thousands of years, as we worked to blend into this civilization, to finally be part of something beyond ourselves.

How swiftly such a long-worn veneer vanishes is one of the greatest surprises of my life.

What stops me isn’t Archie, who’s about to determine just how attached Remy’s arms are to his body and how quickly his men can be stabbed in the face with their own antlers. What stops me—and Archie—is Sir Jameson Daniel Weston.

“What do you prize most, CaptainFancyPants?” Sir Jimmy demands in a cutting tone, a pointed break from his usual joviality. “Queen? Country? Decency? Honor? What? If you can only serve one master, what orwhomis it?”

Remy’s reaction to our unspoken threats is to puff up and issue a huffing grunt, while his hand rests on the hilt of his dagger. “You are mad,” Remy says to Sir Jimmy. “You and your daughter.”

Archie’s fist flies with such speed that Remy is caught off guard and is thrown back from the impact. His knights abruptly draw their swords, pointing the sharp tips at us.

I snort derisively. “Would you like to see what happens to your little sticks when they meet my fire?” I burn hotter and brighter, steam billowing from me as I grab the nearest blade with my bare hand and watch as it melts from my heat. Then I flick my hand to remove the molten steel, enjoying the sight of Remy’s knights scattering to escape the flying liquid metal.

All through that display, my body is consumed with the urge to grip each of their necks and tear free the important bits.

“What do you serve?” Sir Jimmy asks again, more intently this time.

Remy glares at Archie and me, knowing his chances against us, either individually or together, are uninspiring.

“Answer Sir Jimmy right now,Remington,” Archie snaps.

“The kingdom. My queen. Honor. The law.” Remy’s grip on his dagger is tight, but he doesn’t hold it as though it’s his only weapon now, and I abruptly wonder whether his antlers might melt if he attempted to use his greatest defense on me.

“What about right and wrong?” Sir Jimmy presses.

“I’m a servant to the queen. She dictates right and wrong.”

Sir Jimmypfftsquite effectively. “So you have no mind of your own then?”

Remy appears struck by that. “I do, it’s just…wecan’t be trusted. Our society, without our queen, was vile, a terrible, violent place. For all its sorrow, this is better.”

Sir Jimmy’s hands land on his hips and I can imagine a standoff between him and his daughter, both of them affecting exactly that pose. “That, my friend, is a faulty belief system, that youronlychoice is between two things. Right and wrong. Good and evil. Pineapples and pizza. The old treacherous way and this new sorrowful way. There are always more than two options, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a manipulative liar and a poisonous scoundrel.”

He sweeps his hand through the air, from Remy to Archie and then toward me. “There are an infinite amount of options here, and what you do next will say more about you than it does about us.” To Archie and me, Sir Jimmy says, “What do you want?”

“To be with our Lady,” we both respond in barely comprehensible snarls.

Sir Jimmy raises an eyebrow. “In the dungeon?”

“Wherever she is, is where we will be.”

Sir Jimmy then turns to Remy. “All they’re asking is to be imprisoned with my daughter—is that really something you want to prevent?”

Remy studies both of us, eyeing my steam and burning coals and Archie’s colossal, enraged form. “No violence inside the castle. You will be in cells, all separated, but you’ll be near her.ThatI can do.” He looks down at Sir Jimmy. “And what of you, Sir?”

“I’ll be right here, drinking that wine and readying to start the uprising if you all don’t behave yourselves.” He taps his temple. “Just know, I’ve studied a lot of military history. You don’t want to mess with me.”