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“They are,” Dawsyn says without pause. “They have no desire, no need to swoop in and steal humans from the valley. They are free from King Vasteel’s tyranny, just as we are, just as those on the Ledge are.” Dawsyn’s glare is murderous. “And yet the Queens have no interest in allying with them to save their own people.”

“So, take the Queens’ deal,” Ruby presses, frustrated. “Persuade them!”

Dawsyn seems to consider her for a moment, her shoulders slumped, defeated. She sighs, turning away from Ruby. “They do not wish to listen,” she says lowly. “They wish to silence me. Soon they will realise they cannot.”

“Thenpretend,” Ruby hisses, her voice echoing despite it. “Justpretend… and live. Is that not better?”

Dawsyn lies down again, curling onto her side. “You still haven’t explained yourself. Why do you come down here, Captain? You needn’t. My death will not be on your hands.”

Ruby’s tongue sits dry and reluctant. She unsticks it from the roof of her mouth. “My parents… they idolised your ancestors, your grandmother. What would they think of me, knowing I helped keep you prisoner here?”

A silence stretches between them, but in the darkness, Ruby sees Dawsyn frown, sees her eyes shut, and though pain is absent in her voice, it is clear on her face. “I cannot sit quiet and do as Alvira wishes while those on the Ledge slip into the Chasm.”

Ruby groans, smacks her hand against the iron as she turns to leave. “Your arrogance will be what kills you.”

“Your Queen will be what kills me.”

Ruby halts, desperation causing her to try one more time. “Unless she has your allegiance!”

“I will sooner die than kneel.”

There is no swaying her. Ruby sees it in the jut of Dawsyn’s chin, the pinch between brows.

“Then you shall die,” the captain tells her. Ruby stalks quickly from the keep, ignoring the slow churn of her stomach.

CHAPTERFOUR

Her Majesty, the Queen of Terrsaw, observes the girl on the floor with something akin to desperation.

She is notdesperate, of course. True leaders cannot afford to be – and she is, in fact, the truest.

The girl sleeps, or rather, she pretends to. Queen Alvira would like to think it is out of fear but knows better. The girl pretends to sleep in the Queen’s presence out of petulance.

A dangerous prospect.

“Dawsyn, dear?”

The girl remains unmoving. It is… irksome.

“My apologies for disturbing you. I’ve come with gifts.” One of the guards shadowing her brings forward a pile of fine fabrics and unlocks the gate. He places them inside and Alvira’s nose wrinkles as the finery is laid upon the grime-laden stone.

The opening of the gate does not stir Dawsyn Sabar. No attempt at escape. Not a slither of curiosity.

Irritated, Alvira clears her throat. “Clothes, my dear. You could use more. We cannot soak in the blood of our past lovers for too long.”

A twitch. Alvira cannot see the girl’s face, but she imagines her eyes have snapped open. The Queen smiles. A thread to pull.

“It must hurt, knowing that the bothersome creature very nearly brought aboutyourdeath as well.”

A flex of the girl’s shoulders.

“Even more so, to think that you cannot hate him for it, now that he is gone.”

The prisoner pushes her upper body from the ground. Her face slowly turns. She glares at the Queen. Burns her. She is little more than achildwith the stare of an ancient. A detail that hasn’t escaped Alvira’s notice. An… unfortunate detail.

“Or perhaps you’ve realised your own mistakes? The ones that led to Ryon’s death–”

“Enough,” Dawsyn Sabar calls clearly, stronger than Alvira would have expected or preferred. The Queen had ordered her to be fed sparsely, to weaken her. She knows from experience that it is difficult to persuade the sturdy and able-bodied.