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Agnar spares me only a glance before sprinting toward the open window. He jumps out, wings snapping open.

When he returns minutes later, I’ve managed to pick my aching body off of the floor.

“He’s gone. And the guard outside is dead. Throat slit.” His face is grim. “What the hells happened?”

“We were…” Tears blur my vision, and I can’t finish my sentence. “Sorry…I just…”

His face softens as he strides across the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Fuck.” He gently lifts my chin, frowning as he examines my throat. “He hurt you.”

I stumble back. “It’s nothing. He wasn’t himself.”

“It’s not nothing.” Agnar skims two fingers over my throat, and I wince. “Are thoseteethmarks?”

Embarrassment warms my face. “Yeah. Things got a little rough there for a minute, but I’ve fared worse during training.”

My attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

The guilt on his face clenches my heart. “I never should have left you alone with him. After Leesa, I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before the corruption took hold.”

“It’s okay.” I squeeze his arm. “We’re all still learning how this corruption works. Never in a million years did I think Sterling would go batshit on me. One minute, he was kissing me and asking me about the trip, and the next, he was slamming me into the wall.”

He flinches and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I caught the aftermath. Did he say anything about his plans? About the drachen?”

“Some.” I recount what little Sterling told me.

“If we can find him, what are the odds you can heal him?” His voice is tentative, hopeful against all odds.

“I’m not sure exactly how it works yet, but I think I might actually be able to.” I struggle not to wince as I touch the side of my head that hit the wall. “Leesa. I need to try to heal her first. And then we can figure out what to do about Sterling.”

“First, you need to sit down.” Agnar takes my arm and guides me to a couch in Sterling’s sitting room. “I’ll send a healer to check out your injuries, and then I need to speak with the dowager queen, the council, the soldiers. Send guards to locate Sterling. There’s a lot to be done.”

“Of course. Go do what you need to do.” I shoot him a grateful look. “And thank you. If you hadn’t come when you did…”

My lip trembles, and I can’t stop the tear from escaping.

He sits on the couch beside me and pats my hand. “We’re going to get him back, Lark. Don’t lose hope.”

“I’m trying not to.”

Agnar’s chest lifts and lowers as he studies the marks Sterling left on my skin. “Can I ask…why didn’t you summon the dragons for help? They would have come, right?”

I can’t meet his eyes. “I was afraid they’d hurt him,” I whisper.

Several beats of silence follow my words, and then Agnar uses his fingers to lift my chin. “Look at me.” His other hand cradles my cheeks, and there’s a dawning wonder and warmth in his expression that I’ve never seen him direct at me before. “That was incredibly stupid of you…but I can’t lie and say I’m sorry you did it. You’re a brave woman, Lark, and for the record, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. It will be my absolute honor to see you sit at Knox’s side and call you my queen.”

Agnar presses a gentle kiss on my cheek and leaves before I dissolve into a sobbing mess.

Within a few minutes, a healer visits to tend to my injuries. She tells me to rest before I do anything else and places an herbal drink in my hands before departing.

Alone in Sterling’s chambers once again, I drop my dampening shield completely.

The night’s events play back in my head, over and over.

What could I have done differently? If Agnar had been with me to begin with, could we have subdued Sterling long enough for me to attempt to heal his corruption? Would we have succeeded? Where is Sterling now? Is he going to be all right?

“Excuse me, Lady Lark?” A voice cuts through the disquiet of my mind, and I glance up to see a guard entering the chamber. “Her highness the queen is here to see you. We’ll be in the hall if you need us.” After gesturing to a second guard beyond the doorway, he sees himself out.

Before I can muster a response, another presence fills the doorway, one that squeezes the air from my lungs. Queen Alannah stands there, a portrait of sorrow wrapped in her sleeping robe, frailty clinging to her like a second skin.